Conflicted Eyes, Confusing Feelings | Complete

s e v e n t y - t w o

Typos are devils in disguise, and Grammarly and Prowriting aid can only do so much :(. If you spot any typos, you can let me know (because some of them are just pure cringe).

Chapter 71: What is love?

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I looked at him as a friend until I realized I loved him.

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Because Sage wasn't the best cycler on the street, or a noob, as Gage would say, he kept close to the sidewalk and be mindful of everything around him. He lost himself in the moment anyway, getting caught in the sensation of wind brushing his cheeks, the rough rubber of the handbrakes along his soft fingertip; it made him feel a million times better that evening, as opposed to being cooped up in his room with his nose buried in different physics or mathematics textbooks. Notwithstanding the benefits of being home, being there did more than harm than good in distraction him, be it from his broken heart, triggering flashbacks or the disturbing memories of meetings with the Priest Goodward — someone Sage hasn't seen in days now.

Cycling alone was the perfect cure for all the headache, the misery, and sadness. As he inched closer to the town, he swerved around a crack in the sidewalk and stared up at the sky, where strips of cotton-like clouds hovered in the air, obscuring the sun's golden rays. The air was warm and fresh, whirling around him in waves that pumped him with motivation and hope.

Less than ten minutes into the ride, he arrived at the supermarket, locking it to one of the railings before he hurried to the supermarket's entrance, where he first pushed the plastic double doors open and greeting the security guards. As he grabbed a trolley with shaking hands, his brows furrowed as he looked around, taking in the familiar environment whilst trying not to incite unneeded memories. The last time he'd been there was with Xander, and that fateful lube incident. It wasn't something he wanted to remember at that particular moment, but as he strolled down aisle ten for the requested toiletries, the colorful flamboyance of condoms and lube on the adjacent side towed his eyes.

Despite feeling mildly flustered, his curiosity won the battle in the emotional side of his brain and he walked over to have a better look. Stacks and stacks of condoms were vertically stacked in half-cut boxes of the associated brand, each just waiting to be plucked from the queue that had formed.

Before reaching forth and grabbing something off the shelves (just for closer inspection, of course), he glanced on either side of him, ensuring the coast was clear before going through with it. The last thing he wanted was for an old lady, child - or anyone for that matter - staring at him and judging.

His fingers grazed the smooth packaging of one, a loud grunt resounded in his ear. At first, he cringed, confused where it came from, but as they kept coming rhythmically, muffled cries resounded right after each one. Panic quickly set in, causing him to release the condom as though burnt and backing up, away from it all. Suddenly, Sage was the one crying, and Carlos was on top of him, grunting loudly as he jerked his hips forth, nonstop.

The memory made Sage sick to the very pit of his stomach. His eyes grew watery and he fumbled for a grip on the handle of the trolley, all for the idea of retreating before the disturbing memory manifested itself in a more potent form, leaving him shaking and tormented.

"Skyn's a good brand. Heard they have a one size fits all policy."