the product of being trusted with a computer in schoool :))))))))

also this was written after i'd listened to wicked games on repeat

He loves with his head, not his heart.

He plays it like a game, but not a game with pawns. More, a game with strategy, figuring out the opponent's weaknesses and strengths, and playing that aspect like a pawn. Moving the pieces when the timing aligns with the situation, and the perfect opportunity to strike is shown.

However, what is lost is not what is promised by the rules.

But love knows no rules.

In his head, he believes he must've won something or another, saved someone, had been the hero or the martyr or whatever, keeping everything out while he sorts around, switching aspects of his life that were preventing him from caring for anyone else, from shutting people out. most of it he's found a way to fix, or at least cope with. But he knows it was all a bit too late

Confirmation is what he feared, and exactly what he's gotten.

The boy is no longer in his range. He's moved.

He's not angry, he's not sad, he's not guilty, but there's a giant pit in his chest, a sink of his heart. In the back of his mind, he's always known, and he's still got quite a ways to go, but he knows that love shouldn't be like a game, it's not some fucking checkerboard and really he shouldn't see it that way.

But the thought of being sucked in by someone's charm and love terrifies him. it scares him to be with someone else entirely, he's afraid of being left behind. Unloved. Unfortunate for him, what he doesn't know will hurt. He may be unloved now, but he make it that way. himself.

The moment flashes behind his eyes so briefly, he'd almost missed it. He'd almost missed the bittersweet sting of remembering that moment. Right before he'd thrown himself into the hellstorm, how the back door hung just the slightest bit open, and how his heart dropped a million miles. How he raced outside, and his relief when he saw that at least Tris was *physically* alright made his head feel a lot better, but knowing his heart hurt still pained him.

And realizing that he really felt something pained him even more.

And fuck, even back then it scared him.

He remembers exactly how he tasted. Cherry chapstick with mint and just him. He remembers how he was so disappointed when the other boy's lips left his. How he dived right back in for more, not even questioning what would happen after. or having any sense of reason, really. All he felt was warmth. Euphoria. Passion. The feeling of his body pressed against Tristan's.

In his hand, he holds the lighter from that night, flipping the top, watching the flame jump up and settle quickly, and once again closing it. he does this multiple times, recalling memories, and thinks about how pathetic this is, and how he should be chasing after some girl who's rejected him about 4 times. Or doing something to get this two-month romance out of his head.

It's then he begins to question if it was really all in his head.

Did he really love the person who was the most convenient to love in that moment? Was it really a game?

Or had his intoxication managed to slip itself under his millions of walls?

He wishes he had a joint, or alcohol, or something to give him a buzz, because all he can think about is Tris and how he tasted and felt and how he loved him and forgot what this felt like, loathing in himself, because he was able to forget with him around, or really, anyone around.

He fucked up. Horribly. Terribly. And he needs to fix it. Because he didn't just lose someone that day, he lost everything.