Light poured in through the window. I pressed my eyes shut tightly and rolled over on my side. Finally, I accepted defeat and opened my eyes. I wasn't getting back to sleep. Sitting up, I glanced at the clock. Eleven twenty-three. Later than I should have slept; Daniel was coming over at noon. I wanted to be at least somewhat awake by then.
I dressed slowly, trying not to think about anything other than the sock I was pulling on. Unfortunately, thoughts of Daniel distracted me from my footwear. Not too recently I had discovered that my love for Daniel was more than friendly. I was overcome with desire. Writing was my only release. Pages of words that no eyes but mine would ever see.
These pages held confessions more personal than any of the lyrics I had ever written. Exposing all of my raw emotions that didn't surface until I pulled out a pen. All of my feelings for Daniel were put into words...it was a little frightening, actually. I didn't read them often; I found that when I did, I sat wallowing in self-pity for several hours after.
I picked up the notebook that held the True Confessions of Darren Hayes and held it for a moment. Flipping through the pages, I couldn't help but sigh. It took a lot of energy to love someone that much. Closing the book, I stood up and shoved it in a drawer. I then searched for a pen and another notebook and sat to wait for Daniel.
Dan arrived at 12:04. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, indicating he had also risen late.
"Alarm didn't go off?" I asked knowingly.
"Right. Anyway, shall we?" He asked, pointing to his guitar. We sat down and Daniel played a new melody he'd been working on.
"Oh, Danny, that was beautiful!" I gushed. Daniel looked at me expectantly.
"Well?" He prodded.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"Lyrics! Usually you'd have about four pages by now," Dan said teasingly.
"Well, I'm, um...thinking," I finished weakly. I held my pen, but the only words that came to my mind were those expressing my longing for Daniel. I couldn't use those. Dan would understand them, I was positive. "Must be writer's block," I explained finally. Dan snickered.
"Don't you have anything? Haven't you worked on *anything* new?" Dan stared at me. I had to look away.
"Um, no..." I lied. Daniel looked into my eyes for a while, as if deciding whether or not he should believe me. Then he shook his head.
"Alright. If you say so."
After another few weeks, I had nearly lost control. I needed to be with Daniel like I needed to breathe. Every second I was with him I grew more desperate to hold on to him. I couldn't believe how possessive of him I was. Maybe Daniel had realized how clingy I was getting, but so far he didn't seem to be catching on to the reason for this attachment.
I couldn't understand how he could be completely oblivious to something that seemed painfully obvious to me, but that was probably better. At least this way I could live happily in denial. That was better than the world of hurt that would be created for me if Daniel rejected me. Yes, it was safer that he didn't know.
We got together a few times a week. It was nice seeing him outside of work. Of course, work was relaxed, but there was just a different atmosphere. Over the past few months we had really grown close. We'd been spending far more time together. Somewhere, deep inside, where my most personal thoughts lived, lurked the hope that maybe this was because Daniel felt the same way about me as I did about him. Of course, reality always stepped in and told me the thought was ridiculous.
Besides that, there was also the fact that Daniel had a boyfriend. Sumner. Daniel, after much prodding, sometimes described their dates to me. I always fantasized that I was in Sumner's place. Then I would pull myself back into the real world and tell myself how crazy I was becoming.
One day that week, I was sitting in my kitchen, daydreaming, when the phone rang. I jolted up out of the chair. After a bit of a search, I located the cordless phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Darren, it's Dan," said the voice on the other end. He sounded a bit distracted. "Can we meet for lunch? I need to talk to you."
"Of course," I said. We agreed to meet in an hour. I hung up and tossed the phone onto the kitchen table.
In exactly one hour, I met Daniel at a restaurant. He looked a bit upset. Immediately, I asked "Is something wrong?" After a moment's hesitation, he answered.
"Sumner broke up with me."
"Oh, Danny," I said gently, pulling him into a hug. As much as I felt sorry for him, I couldn't help but think, this could be my chance.
~Chapter Three~
Daniel and Sumner had been together for seven months. Not too long, but definitely long enough to become attached to someone. I had studied every aspect of having a relationship with Daniel over those seven months, hoping one day I could put the knowledge to use. I had learned everything from what pissed Dan off in a relationship to what turned him on.
His recent breakup had given me a small sense of hope. This made me feel incredibly guilty. Dan was my best friend; I was not supposed to be happy about something like this. I was, though, however badly I felt about it.
Up until now, a relationship with Dan had been out of the question, impossible. Now that it was a possibility, I was growing even more anxious and excited. The need to do something about my love for Daniel was growing rapidly. Each day when I woke up, I promised myself that would be the day I'd take action. Every night I told myself "tomorrow will be the day." It was pathetic, and I knew it.
Dan and I began to work more often. His break-up with Sumner had opened up a lot of emotion, all of which Daniel poured into his music. The result was some of the most beautiful, heart-wrenching music I'd ever heard. In the back of my mind, I pondered how some of the lyrics in my hidden notebook would sound with Daniel's music. I longed to show him the words, but instead I created new, semi-personal lyrics with less than half of the emotion found in my other work. If Daniel noticed a change in my writing style, he didn't mention it.
I seriously doubted that Daniel picked up on much of anything anymore. He'd been living in a daze lately. I tried everything I could think of to bring him out of it; nothing worked. The only times he seemed, well, stable, were when we were working. We got together outside of work as much as possible, also. I focused all of the energy I hadn't devoted to writing on cheering him up. The time we spent together seemed to help a bit. I thought that maybe, if I showed him I would always be there for him, he would come to me.
Well, a guy can dream, can't he?
~Chapter Four~
As time passed, Daniel began going out drinking more and more. It was his way of coping with the situation, I suppose. He often came knocking on my door at two or three in the morning. He'd stumble into my living room and I'd immediately smell the beer and cigarettes on him. I often wondered why I bothered dragging myself out of my warm bed to deal with the intoxicated object of my affection. I'd hear the quiet but persistent banging on my door and think, "Let him find his own way home," and turn over, willing myself to fall back asleep. Then would come the slurred call of, "Dazza, come on. Please let me in."
I would cringe when my bare feet touched the cold wood floor and curse myself for not having it carpeted. I would feel my way across the icy floor with my feet, then switch on the light. Squinting in the now oh-so-familiar brightness, I'd wish fleetingly that I had a nice job in a bank somewhere so I wouldn't have to deal with this early morning annoyance caused by my wonderful band mate. Then I'd sigh, let Dan in, and make up the couch.
Of course, it couldn't even be that simple. On the nights that Daniel didn't fall asleep the minute his shoes were kicked off, he would want to stay up and talk. Making intelligent conversation with anyone at two in the morning is hard enough, but when the other person is drunk, it's nearly impossible. If it hadn't been so early in the morning, I might have considered some of the things that Dan said funny. But it *was* that early, and my sense of humor wasn't awake yet. Of course, Dan found almost everything I said hilarious. He exploded into helpless fits of giggles that were so un-Daniel-like that after sighing, I couldn't help but smile. Then, rubbing my temples, I'd wonder why I'd submitted myself to this once again.
"Ya know what's great?" Dan interrupted my self-pitying thoughts to ask.
"No, what?"
"Those chocolate-covered carrots they're makin now," he said, scratching his ear.
"There are no such things as chocolate-covered carrots, thank God," I said tiredly.
"Know what you need?"
"Hmm?"
"A turtle. You need a turtle," Dan informed me.
"Yeah, ok," I said, humoring him. "A turtle, right."
"Ya know what else?" Dan asked groggily.
"What, Danny-boy?"
"You're my best friend."
"I know, Dan. You're my best friend too."
Dan had a tendency to get sentimental when he was drunk. When he was conscious, that is.
"Dazza?"
"What, Dan?" I leaned back in my chair and tried to convince myself I wasn't tired.
"Can I have some lemonade?"
"Danny, I don't have any lemonade."
"But I really want some lemonade!" Dan complained. I sighed, went into the kitchen, and poured Dan a glass of water.
"Here's your 'lemonade', Dan," I said, placing the glass on a coaster on the coffee table. I glanced at Dan; he was asleep, stretched out on the couch with his mouth open. I took a sip of the water and went back to bed.
The next night I was rudely awoken once again by pounding at the door. I groaned inwardly and glanced at the clock. 2:26. The words "cruel and unusual punishment" popped into my head. I let Daniel in, plopped a stack of blankets on the couch, and locked myself in my bedroom. Tomorrow, I thought, we'd have a talk.
~Chapter Five~
Dan woke as I was making coffee the next morning. He stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, sat on the counter, and began to pour the remaining contents of the coffee pot into his mouth.
"Mornin', sunshine," I said sarcastically.
"I have a terrible headache," Dan muttered, ignoring my previous comment entirely.
"Well, that's one of the side-effects of staying out drinking half the night. That and annoying the heck out of your best mate by waking him up at God-awful hours of the morning expecting to be let in." I took a sip of my coffee and looked at Dan meaningfully. Dan avoided my stare and continued to empty the coffee pot. After tipping the pot in order to swallow the last drop, he turned to me.
"So, what do you want to do today?"
"You," I mumbled under my breath. To Dan I simply said "I need to talk to you about something." Dan grimaced.
"That doesn't sound good," he observed. I shrugged and led him to the living room. After we were seated, I took a deep breath and began.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about your new, um...habits," I began, "mainly, going out drinking until you're so drunk you can hardly walk, then waking me up so you can crash here." There. I'd said it. I let my breath out. Dan, who had looked quite nervous, relaxed a great deal.
"Geez...I'm real sorry 'bout last night, Dar. I know I woke you up; it's just been fun hanging out with you so much lately. I am sorry, though."
I sighed. "Dan, it wasn't just last night. You've been doing this for quite some time. And it's not just that I'm annoyed; I'm worried about you as well."
Dan, who had tensed up again somewhere in the middle of my speech, leaned back to rest his head on the back of his chair. He fiddled with one of his shirt buttons, avoiding my eyes.
"Oh," he mumbled simply. I could see he wasn't going anywhere with that response, so I continued.
"I understand what you must be going through. I know you really cared for Sumner, but you need to get over him. Or at least find a better way of dealing with it, a way that can't hurt you!"
Dan glared at me. "You think it's a matter of getting over Sumner? I've got news for you, Darren; it's not that simple. I don't give a damn about Sumner anymore. But I do care about the fact that no one seems willing to stay in a relationship with me. You wouldn't understand, Darren. You don't understand what it's like not to feel loved." Dan grabbed his jacket and left.
I remained where I was, stung by his words. Then the full intensity of them hit me. Did Dan really feel no one loved him? If only he knew how untrue that was. Then a bubble of realization popped in my face: Dan didn't particularly care about Sumner. If I could show him how much I cared for him - hell, how much I *loved* him - could he really think about returning those feelings? I had to find out.
First, though, there was some making up to do. I went off in search of the phone.
