He shouldn’t be here, and he knew it. Letting himself be at Bentley’s beck and call was really just doing him far more harm than it was good, and yet... those few moments of happiness whenever he was in Bentley’s arms - or, more accurately, his bed - were the only real moments of happiness he’d had in a what felt like way too long. Every time, he told himself never again, only to come right back just days later. Maybe one day he’d grow a backbone, tell Bentley to fuck off, and find himself a real boyfriend, but it was pretty obvious that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and he had a feeling they both knew that. A real boyfriend would be a risk. He could get his heart broken, but this? Whatever it was they were doing... it was safe. Or at least it was supposed to be. Lately, he wasn’t so sure. As much as he tried to tell himself that Bentley was simply a way to let off steam, he knew that, at least deep down, something more was going on. He should end it, or he’d only end up hurt. Once his feet stopped in front of Bentley’s door, he made the decision that, as soon as Bentley opened it, he was going to end things.
And then the door opened. Bentley was on the other side, and he smiled at him, and Luca knew he was fucked. It was always so much easier to pretend to hate the guy in retrospect, when they weren’t together, and Luca wasn’t looking into those damn eyes. "Well?” Luca shifted, tightening the strings on his hoodie, to give his fingers something to do besides reach out for Bentley. “Are you going to just stand there and look at me, or are you going to invite me in to play a game of ‘no homo, but...’?” @rothisms
