#mloop

As soon as you saw them, you knew. It wasn’t exactly something you could miss if you were to pay attention. They looked at each other with the most unrestricted love that you had ever seen anyone look at another with. It was brilliant, the way the gravitated towards each other. They looked at each with the sort of familiarity that came with knowing the other person for years upon years, despite your knowing that they had only been together for a few months.

Seeing them kissing in hallways made your chest ache in ways that it hadn’t for years, and seeing them hugged was like looking in a mirror from the past. They kissed with a sort of shining passion, like they wouldn’t stop kissing even if the world was ending around them; and even though you had seen them pull away, it always seemed like they wouldn’t—and for a few moments every time, you really did believe they wouldn’t stop this time. Inevitably, they would pull away, and it was still so beautiful, the way they looked at each other. Like they each believed that nothing in the world would ever be more gorgeous than the other.

When he ran his fingers through the other boy’s hair, it was so careful and tender; as though he believed the boy would break if it was any less gentle. However, you knew there were times that were not like this—you had seen them in other hallways grabbing and pulling and biting each other with concupiscent and deliberate motions. They were always so lovely in their motions, flowing and smooth and calm, but passionate and intense and random. They were loud, as well, you knew because you roomed next to them, and they loved each with every shout and every moan.

You could hear when the boy would ask the other if he was okay, that he needed to relax. You could hear the strain in both their voices as they made love without knowing you could hear their every sound. There was something lovely about that, too, the way they were so invested in each other than they couldn’t begin to worry about whom might hear them. The smaller boy, the one in your psych class, you knew he minded. You knew because whenever the teacher called on him he stopped breathing, started shaking, and turned cherry red; you always wondered if he was alright. You knew he cared about who heard him, because he was deathly afraid of coming off as stupid, but it was lovely the way that the other boy made him forget all about that.

The other boy, the taller one, he was the one every spoke of. The words and gossip flew around you like gnats that you tried to swat away. You weren’t one for gossip, you thought it was silly, but the gossip about the boy was rather interesting and heartbreaking at the same time. You didn’t know much about him, but you knew that he was polar opposite of the boy in your psych class, and you knew that he wasn’t afraid and that he was kind of a jerk, apparently. He didn’t seem like a jerk—he always smiled at you in the hallways and high-fived your best friend—but you didn’t know him well, and figured he was a jerk to others. You had heard of the cheating, and you knew that Psych Class Boy missed school for three days because of it, and you got irrationally angry.

They weren’t your friends, you shouldn’t have cared, but it was unfair to both of them. It was unfair that the taller boy was tempted and teased and made to feel guilty, and it was unfair that Psych Class Boy was hurt so horribly. You wanted to take them both into a room and show them a slideshow of their love, to show them that they were meant for each other, to show them how they looked at each other. You couldn’t do that, though, because you didn’t know them, you didn’t know how they worked and you were more of the stand-in-the-corner-and-stay-silent type of person. You didn’t have the courage to do something so brave, but you wanted someone else to do it.

You hadn’t ever liked the blonde boy with the piercing, and you hadn’t ever liked the blonde boy’s boyfriend, because they were both negative and they never smiled back. You felt sympathetic, however, as it seemed like both boys had gone through rough times. You didn’t excuse their behavior because of that, but you made a point to always smile at them in the hallways and say, “I hope you’re having a splendid day.”

The day you saw the hickey was the day you learned the taller boy’s name. You saw the hickey on the blonde’s boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, perhaps; you weren’t sure—and you immediately knew who did it. It was in the exact place of Psych Class Boy’s hickeys, and it was in the exact place of JT’s long-since-vanished hickeys. The taller boy’s hickeys were like a beacon, a sign to know he was the one doing them. You were shocked, absolutely, but not surprised. When you saw the taller boy next, his head was down, and then someone called his name—Bryan—and you looked up at the same time as him.

You dropped you head almost immediately, before catching Bryan’s smile at you. You smiled back slightly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile completely, because you were angry. You were angry with Bryan for being able to act so unaffected, even though you knew he was probably very disappointed in himself (you had hope that this was true), and you were angry with the other boy for letting himself get so carried away. It was easier to be angry at the other boy—Noah, you soon found out—because you didn’t have a bond with Noah. You didn’t like him ever, so it was easier to hate him now. You were also angry with Psych Class Boy for being so completely oblivious and unquestioning, but you hurt for him. You had known someone like him.

You wanted everyone to just be happy, and for Bryan to realize what a gift he had and for Psych Class Boy to realize how curious he should be, and for Noah to realize how stupid it was of him to let things go so far. It was irrational, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to say something, but you stayed quiet, watching the boys you had grown to know and watching them make mistakes. You watched Psych Class Boy love Bryan unconditionally, and you understood. No matter what, you knew that Psych Class Boy wasn’t going to let go of Bryan. You knew this much, as you had been him once.

You wanted to shake him. You wanted to shake both of them, but you smiled and said, “I hope you’re having a splendid day,” like you always did. It wasn’t your job to tell them when they were making mistakes, and they weren’t your responsibility, so you shouldn’t care. But you stayed awake every night, staring at your dorm and wondering how the hell you could help, because you remembered what it felt like to cheat on someone. You were never cheated on, but you had cheated, and you knew how Bryan felt. You wanted him to tell Psych Class Boy, because you knew that a love like theirs ran deep and ran true, and if you learned anything in your quiet life, it was that when a love was that bright, the victim would always come back.