I Tried To “Fix” Myself… But My Best Friend Bennett Made It Worse
I genuinely thought I could fix myself.
Not in a dramatic, life-changing, movie kind of way.
Nothing like that.
Just quietly, subtly, like adjusting a setting no one else could see.
Because if I could just stop feeling the way I did about Bennett, everything would go back to normal.
That’s what I told myself, at leaSt. It started the night I realized I wasn’t just admiring him anymore.
We were sitting on his couch, controllers in hand, half paying attention to some game we’d already beaten twice.
It was late, the kind of late where everything feels slower, softer.
The room was dim, just a glow from the TV lighting up his face.
And I remember looking at him, not in a quick glance way, but really looking.
The way his jaw tensed when he focused.
The way his fingers moved over the controller.
The slight smirk he had when he knew he was about to win.
Something in my chest shifted.
Not suddenly, not dramatically, just enough.
Enough to make me look away a second too late.
“Dude, you’re getting destroyed.”
Bennett said, nudging my knee with his.
I blinked, realizing I hadn’t moved my character in at least 10 seconds.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”
I muttered, forcing a laugh.
But my voice felt off, thinner.
Because the truth hit me right there, quiet and uncomfortable.
I didn’t just like being around him.
I wanted him.
And that was the problem.
Bennett wasn’t just some random guy.
He was my best friend.
The one person who knew everything about me, or at least everything I’d let him see.
We had a routine.
Late-night gaming, random food runs, inside jokes that didn’t make sense to anyone else.
It was easy, safe.
And I was about to ruin it.
So yeah, I decided to fix it.
I figured it couldn’t be that hard.
People changed all the time, right?
You just redirect your thoughts.
Focus on something else.
Meet someone new.
Pretend it’s not there until it actually isn’t.
Simple.
At first, I went with the obvious approach.
I downloaded a dating app.
Not because I wanted anything serious, but because I needed a distraction.
Someone, anyone, who wasn’t Bennett.
The first few days were fine.
Mindless swiping, a few matches, conversations that didn’t really go anywhere.
It felt mechanical, safe.
And most importantly, it kept my brain occupied.
Until Bennett found out.
He walked into my room one evening without knocking, like he always did, holding a bag of takeout.
“Got your usual.”
He said, dropping it on my desk before pausing.
His eyes flicked to my phone.
“Wait, are you on a dating app?”
I froze for half a second.
Too long.
“Uh, yeah.”
I said, trying to sound casual.
“Figured I’d try it out.”
Bennett raised an eyebrow, something unreadable flashing across his face.
“Huh.”
“Didn’t know you were looking for anything.”
“I’m not really.”
I shrugged.
“Just seeing what’s out there.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Just stood there, watching me in that way he did sometimes, like he was trying to piece something together.
Then he huffed out a small laugh.
“Damn.”
“Guess I’m getting replaced.”
It was a joke, obviously.
But something about the way he said it, it stuck.
“Yeah, right.”
I scoffed.
“You’re not that easy to get rid of.”
“Good.”
He said, a little too quickly.
And then just like that, the moment passed.
Or at least, it should have.
Because after that, things started to feel different.
Subtle at firSt. Bennett started hanging around my room more, sitting closer than usual, asking more questions about who I was talking to.
Nothing obvious.
Nothing I could call out without sounding insane.
But I noticed.
And the worst part?
It didn’t help.
If anything, it made everything worse.
Because now, instead of just dealing with my own feelings, I had this constant awareness of him.
The way his arm brushed mine when we reached for the same thing.
The way his voice dropped when it was just the two of us.
It was like trying to ignore a fire while standing in it.
Still, I kept going.
I forced myself to meet up with one of the guys from the app.
His name was Eric.
He was nice, normal, easy to talk to.
Everything I should have wanted.
We met at a small coffee place downtown, sat across from each other making polite conversation.
And for a while, it worked.
I laughed at the right moments, asked the right questions, played the part of someone who was completely, totally fine.
Until Eric reached across the table and casually touched my hand.
It was nothing, just a light, friendly gesture.
But my brain didn’t register it that way.
Because instead of feeling anything for him, all I could think about was how it wasn’t Bennett.
And that realization hit harder than anything else.
I pulled my hand back a little too faSt. “Sorry.”
I said, forcing a smile.
“I just, uh, didn’t expect that.”
Eric looked a bit confused, but nodded.
“Yeah, no worries.”
But the mood had shifted.
And I knew right then, this wasn’t going to work.
Not like this.
Not when every attempt to fix myself just circled back to the same problem.
Bennett.
By the time I got home, I felt off, restless, like I’d just proven something I didn’t want to admit.
I pushed the door open, stepping inside, and immediately froze.
Because Bennett was sitting on the couch, waiting.
He looked up as soon as I walked in, eyes locking onto mine.
“How was it?”
He asked.
His voice was casual, but his posture wasn’t.
And for some reason, my chest tightened.
Because I had a feeling this was where things were about to get a lot worse.
I should have just said it was fine.
That’s what a normal person would have done.
Shrug it off, grab some water, maybe make a joke about how awkward first dates can be.
Instead, I hesitated.
Just for a second.
“Uh, yeah.”
“It was good.”
I said, kicking my shoes off and trying to sound like I meant it.
Bennett didn’t look convinced.
He leaned back against the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest, watching me in that quiet, focused way that made me feel like I was being read.
“Just good?”
He asked.
I shrugged, heading toward the kitchen, mostly to avoid eye contact.
“He was nice.
We got coffee, talked.
That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
Bennett repeated.
Something about his tone made me glance back.
He hadn’t moved.
Still sitting there, eyes locked on me.
“Yeah.”
I said, a little more defensive than I meant to be.
“That’s kind of how first dates work.”
“I know how dates work.”
He shot back, a hint of irritation slipping through.
That caught me off guard.
Bennett wasn’t the jealous type, or at least, I didn’t think he was.
“Then why are you interrogating me?”
I asked, trying to keep things light, but it came out sharper than intended.
“I’m not interrogating you.”
He said, sitting up now.
“I’m just asking.”
“It feels like more than asking.”
There was a brief silence.
The kind that stretches just a little too long.
Then Bennett exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
“All right, fine.
I’m just” He stopped himself, shaking his head.
“Forget it.”
“No, what?”
I pushed, even though part of me knew I shouldn’t.
He looked at me again, jaw tightening slightly.
“I just didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”
“With what?”
“Going on a date?”
“Yeah.”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
Another pause.
This one heavier.
“I don’t know.”
He said, finally.
“Just didn’t seem like your thing.”
I let out a small, humorless laugh.
“Right.”
“Because you know everything about me, right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s kind of what you implied.”
“Damian.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I cut him off, even though it clearly wasn’t.
“I get it.
You have this version of me in your head, and anything outside of that is just weird.”
“That’s not fair.”
Bennett said, his voice lower now.
“Then what is it?”
I challenged.
The tension snapped into place so quickly it almost felt unreal.
One second we were just talking.
The next, it felt like we were standing on opposite sides of something neither of us fully understood.
Bennett stood up, slowly, closing some of the distance between us.
“I just” He started, then stopped, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“I didn’t like the idea of you going out with some random guy.”
My heart stuttered.
There it was.
Not loud, not dramatic, but enough.
I forced a scoff, even though it came out weaker than I wanted.
“Why?”
“You worried he’s not going to treat me right or something?
Bennett didn’t smile.
Didn’t deflect.
He just looked at me.
Yeah.
He said.
And that should have been it.
A normal, friendly concern.
Except it didn’t feel normal.
Because of the way he said it.
Because of the way he was looking at me.
Because of everything that had been building under the surface for weeks.
You don’t get to do that.
I said before I could stop myself.
His brows pulled together.
Do what?
Act like that.
Like what?
Like it matters.
I said, my voice tightening.
Like you care who I’m with.
I do care.
He said immediately.
Not like that.
The words slipped out.
And the second they did, I felt it.
That shift.
That irreversible step forward.
Bennett went still.
What’s that supposed to mean?
He asked, quieter now.
I should have backed off.
I should have laughed it off, changed the subject, anything.
But I was tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of trying to fix something that clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
It means I said, forcing myself to hold his gaze.
You don’t get to act like this is your business when it’s not.
His expression hardened slightly.
So I’m just supposed to not care at all?
That’s not what I said.
Then what are you saying, Damien?
He pressed, stepping closer.
Too close.
I’m saying you don’t get to have it both ways.
I snapped.
He blinked.
What does that even mean?
It means you don’t get to keep me right here.
I gestured between us, my chest tight.
Like I’m yours, and then act weird when I try to move on.
The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back.
Not because they weren’t true.
But because of how much truth they carried.
Bennett stared at me.
Actually stared.
Like I just said something he couldn’t quite process.
Keep you, like you’re mine?
He repeated slowly.
I swallowed, my confidence cracking.
I didn’t mean it like No, explain it.
He cut in.
His voice wasn’t angry.
That would have been easier.
It was something else.
Something heavier.
I just I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.
You act like it sometimes, okay?
The way you are with me, the way you get when I do anything outside of this.
This?
He echoed.
Us.
I said quietly.
That word hung between us.
Too big.
Too undefined.
Bennett’s gaze dropped for a second, like he was thinking.
Then he looked back up.
And something in his expression had changed.
Maybe I don’t like the idea of you with someone else.
He said.
My breath caught.
That doesn’t mean anything.
I said quickly, even though my chest was already tightening again.
Doesn’t it?
No.
I insisted.
It just means you’re used to me being around.
That’s all.
Is that what you think this is?
He asked.
It’s what it has to be.
The words came out more desperate than I intended.
Because if it wasn’t that then everything I’d been trying to ignore became real.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
Bennett studied me for a long moment.
Then, quieter than before You went on that date to prove something, didn’t you?
I froze.
Because yeah.
I did.
I went because I wanted to.
I said, but even I didn’t believe it.
Bennett’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Did you even like him?
I hesitated.
That was all the answer he needed.
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly.
Yeah.
He murmured.
That’s what I thought.
Something in my chest twisted.
Don’t do that.
I said.
Do what?
Act like you know everything.
I don’t know everything.
He said.
But I know you.
I almost laughed.
Because that was the problem.
He did.
Just not the part that mattered moSt. And the worst part?
I was starting to realize that trying to fix myself wasn’t just failing.
It was making everything between us impossible to ignore.
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not even close.
I just lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again, like if I analyzed it enough, it would somehow make sense.
It didn’t.
Every version of the conversation led to the same place.
I’d crossed a line.
Not just in what I said, but in what I meant.
And the worst part?
Bennett didn’t pull away.
He didn’t laugh it off or shut it down like I half expected him to.
He leaned into it.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
At some point, I heard his door open.
Soft footsteps.
The kitchen cabinet.
The fridge.
Normal sounds.
But they felt different now.
Everything did.
I turned onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut like that would somehow force sleep to come.
It didn’t.
All I could think about was him standing there, looking at me like that, saying things he never said before.
Maybe I don’t like the idea of you with someone else.
That line wouldn’t leave my head.
It looped over and over, settling somewhere deep in my chest where I didn’t want it.
Because if I let myself believe it meant something then everything changed.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I knew, my alarm was going off.
I groaned, reaching blindly to shut it off.
My body felt heavy.
My head worse.
Like I hadn’t slept at all.
Which, technically, I hadn’t.
I dragged myself out of bed, half expecting things to feel normal again in the morning.
Like maybe it had just been a late-night, overthinking kind of thing.
But the second I stepped out of my room and saw Bennett already in the kitchen yeah.
Not normal.
He was leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, coffee in hand.
He looked up when he heard me.
And for a split second there it was.
That same tension.
Unspoken.
Thick.
Morning.
He said.
Hey, I replied.
We both paused.
Like we were waiting for the other person to bring it up.
Neither of us did.
Instead, I grabbed a mug, poured myself some coffee, and tried to act like my heart wasn’t doing something weird in my cheSt. It was painfully awkward.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just off.
Like two people pretending they hadn’t just shifted something fundamental between them.
So, Bennett said after a moment, setting his phone down.
You busy today?
The question felt normal.
Too normal.
Uh just classes.
I said.
Then probably work later.
He nodded slowly.
Cool.
Another pause.
God, this was unbearable.
I might be out tonight.
He added, almost casually.
That caught my attention.
Oh.
Yeah?
Yeah.
He said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Might go grab drinks with some people.
Something in my chest tightened again.
I hated how immediate that reaction was.
Nice.
I said, forcing a shrug.
You should.
I will.
Silence.
Again.
It was like we were mirroring each other, both trying to act unaffected, both failing.
I set my mug down a little harder than I meant to.
Are we just going to pretend last night didn’t happen?
I asked.
There it was.
No easing into it.
No subtlety.
Bennett didn’t look surprised.
If anything, he looked relieved.
Was wondering how long that would take.
He said.
Yeah, well, it’s kind of hard to ignore.
He nodded.
Fair.
I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms.
So, what was that?
I asked.
Bennett tilted his head slightly.
What do you mean?
You know exactly what I mean.
He held my gaze for a second.
Then sighed.
I don’t know, Damien.
He admitted.
I’ve been trying to figure that out, too.
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
You don’t know?
I repeated.
No.
He said.
I just know I didn’t like it.
Didn’t like what?
The idea of you with someone else.
There it was again.
More direct this time.
Less room to pretend it meant nothing.
I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.
That doesn’t automatically mean something, Bennett.
I didn’t say it did.
But you’re acting like it does.
Because it feels like it does.
He said.
That shut me up for a second.
Because that that was honeSt. And honesty was dangerous right now.
You ever think maybe you’re just not used to things changing?
I said, grasping for something logical.
We’ve been like this for a while.
Of course it’s going to feel weird if I start dating someone.
Bennett watched me carefully.
You really think that’s all this is?
I think it’s the most reasonable explanation.
And if If not?
I hesitated.
Because I didn’t have a backup plan for that.
It has to be.
I said finally.
Bennett let out a quiet breath, like he expected that answer.
You’re doing it again.
He said.
Doing what?
Trying to fix it.
My stomach dropped slightly.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
That’s not what I’m doing.
It is.
He said pushing off the counter.
You’re trying to explain it away so you don’t have to deal with it.
And what exactly am I supposed to deal with?
I shot back.
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
But enough.
Us.
That word again.
Heavy.
Undefined.
You keep saying that like it means something.
I said my voice tightening.
Maybe it does.
Or maybe you just don’t want it to change.
I argued.
And maybe you don’t want to admit it already has.
That hit harder than I expected.
Because deep down I knew he was right.
Things had changed.
The second I stopped pretending.
The second he stopped pretending.
We just hadn’t said it out loud yet.
And now?
Now it was right there.
Between us.
Bennett’s gaze softened slightly.
Like he could see the shift in my expression.
I’m not trying to mess things up.
He said quieter now.
I just don’t think pretending nothing’s working anymore.
I swallowed.
Because that was exactly what I’d been doing.
And it wasn’t working.
It was making everything worse.
I tried to fix it.
I admitted before I could stop myself.
His brows pulled together slightly.
Fix what?
This.
I said gesturing vaguely between us.
Whatever this is.
Bennett didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t joke.
He just listened.
I thought if I just ignored it or distracted myself, it would go away.
I continued.
That I could just go back to how things were.
And?
He asked.
I let out a quiet, humorless breath.
It didn’t.
No surprise there.
But saying it out loud made it feel more real.
More permanent.
Bennett nodded slowly.
Yeah.
He said.
I figured.
I looked at him.
Then why didn’t you say anything?
He held my gaze.
Because I wasn’t sure if it was just you.
He admitted.
Or if I was part of it, too.
My chest tightened.
And now?
I asked.
I think I am.
That was it.
No big speech.
No dramatic moment.
Just a quiet truth.
And somehow that hit harder than anything else.
I didn’t know what to say after that.
There wasn’t some perfect response lined up in my head.
No clever comeback.
No way to deflect it like I usually did.
Because Bennett had just confirmed the one thing I was trying so hard not to believe.
It wasn’t one-sided.
And that made everything a lot more complicated.
We just stood there for a second.
Too close.
Too aware.
You think you are?
I finally said my voice quieter than before.
Bennett huffed out a small breath.
Like he almost smiled but didn’t.
Yeah.
He said.
I’m trying not to jump to conclusions.
That sounds like you’re already there.
Maybe I am.
My chest tightened again.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
In my head, there were only two outcomes.
Either I got over it.
Or I ruined everything.
There was no version where he met me halfway.
And yet here we were.
So what does that mean?
I asked.
Bennett tilted his head slightly.
You tell me.
I let out a short laugh.
Seriously?
I’m serious.
He said.
You’re the one who’s been thinking about this longer.
That was annoyingly fair.
I looked away for a second, dragging a hand through my hair.
I don’t know.
I admitted.
I didn’t exactly plan for this outcome.
Yeah, same.
He said.
Another pause.
But this one wasn’t as tense.
It was uncertain.
Like we were both standing in the same unfamiliar place, trying to figure out where to step next.
I just I started then stopped.
Because saying it out loud felt like crossing another line.
Bennett noticed.
What?
He asked.
I hesitated.
Then forced it out anyway.
I don’t want to lose this.
His expression softened immediately.
You won’t.
You don’t know that.
I do.
He said more firmly this time.
Because I don’t want that either.
I studied his face.
Trying to figure out if he really meant it.
Trying to see if there was any hesitation.
There wasn’t.
And that somehow made it worse.
Things are already different.
I said.
Yeah.
He agreed.
That’s the problem.
Or it’s just reality catching up.
He countered.
I frowned slightly.
What does that mean?
Bennett shrugged one shoulder.
It means maybe we’ve been ignoring something that’s been there longer than we thought.
That idea hit deeper than I expected.
Because if that was true then this wasn’t new.
It was just finally obvious.
I don’t like that.
I admitted.
Why?
Because it means I’ve been lying to myself for a while.
Bennett didn’t respond right away.
Then quieter.
Yeah.
Me, too.
That settled something in me.
Not completely.
But enough to take the edge off the panic that had been building since last night.
We weren’t on opposite sides of this.
We were both just late to realizing it.
Still, that didn’t make it easy.
So what now?
I asked.
Bennett exhaled, glancing down for a second before looking back at me.
I don’t think we force anything.
He said.
No rushing into labels or whatever.
That sounds safe.
I muttered.
It is safe.
He said.
And I think we need that right now.
I nodded slowly.
He wasn’t wrong.
The last thing I needed was to spiral this into something bigger before I could even process it.
So we just act normal?
I asked.
Bennett gave me a look.
You think that’s still possible?
I huffed out a small laugh.
Fair.
Because yeah, normal was already gone.
Completely.
Then what?
I asked again.
Bennett hesitated this time.
Not long.
Just enough to make me notice.
Then we see what happens.
He said.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
That’s vague.
Yeah.
He admitted.
Because anything more specific feels like we’re trying to control it.
And you don’t want to do that.
Do you?
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because the honest answer?
No.
That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.
Trying to control something that clearly didn’t work like that.
I just don’t want to screw it up.
I said.
Bennett stepped a little closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough that I could feel the shift.
You’re not the only one in this.
He said.
My eyes flicked up to his.
I know.
Then stop acting like you have to handle it alone.
That landed harder than it should have.
Because that’s exactly what I’d been doing.
Trying to fix it by myself.
Trying to carry it without letting it affect him.
And all it did was make everything worse.
I guess I’m not used to sharing this kind of thing.
I admitted.
Yeah.
Bennett said softly.
I noticed.
There was no judgment in his voice.
Just understanding.
And that made something in my chest loosen.
Just a little.
We stood there again.
That same closeness.
That same awareness.
But now it felt different.
Less like something we were avoiding.
And more like something we were both aware of.
Waiting.
Hey.
Bennett said after a second.
Yeah?
If this gets weird he started.
It already is weird.
I cut in.
He smirked slightly.
Okay, more weird.
He corrected.
We talk about it.
No shutting down.
No pretending.
I nodded.
Yeah.
Okay.
Deal?
Deal.
We didn’t shake on it.
Didn’t laugh it off.
It just settled between us.
And for the first time since all of this started it didn’t feel like I was trying to fix something anymore.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t about to get even more complicated.
For a couple of days, things were weirdly okay.
Not normal.
Definitely not normal.
But not as tense as I expected, either.
It was like we had this unspoken agreement to not overthink every little thing.
We still hung out, still did the same dumb routines.
Gaming, food runs, arguing over what to watch.
Except now, there was this constant awareness underneath it all.
Like a low hum you couldn’t turn off.
Every time our shoulders brushed, I noticed.
Every time he looked at me just a second too long, I noticed.
And the worst part?
I stopped trying to ignore it.
Which, in hindsight, was probably mistake number one.
It happened on a random Thursday night.
Nothing special.
No build-up.
We were in the living room, half watching something neither of us cared about.
I was stretched out on one end of the couch, Bennett sitting closer than usual.
But not close enough to call out.
At least, not officially.
I could feel the heat from him.
And instead of shifting away like I used to, I didn’t.
That was new.
“You’re not even watching this.”
Bennett said after a while.
I blinked, realizing he was right.
“Neither are you.”
I shot back.
“Yeah, but I’m at least pretending better.”
I snorted quietly.
“Sure you are.”
Silence settled again.
But it wasn’t awkward.
It was heavy.
Different.
I shifted slightly, turning my head toward him.
And that’s when I noticed he was already looking at me.
Not in a casual way.
In a very intentional way.
My chest tightened.
“What?”
I asked.
Bennett didn’t answer right away.
His eyes flicked between mine, like he was debating something.
“You ever going to stop overthinking this?”
He asked.
That caught me off guard.
“Overthinking what?”
“This.”
He said, gesturing vaguely between us.
I frowned.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He cut in.
“I can see it on your face every time we’re like this.”
“Like what?”
I challenged.
“Close.”
He said simply.
That word landed heavier than it should have.
“I’m not overthinking.”
I said, even though we both knew that was a lie.
Bennett leaned back slightly, studying me.
“Then what are you doing?”
I opened my mouth, then paused.
Because I didn’t actually have a good answer.
“I’m just trying not to mess it up.”
I said finally.
He exhaled softly, like he expected that.
“Damien.”
He said, quieter now.
“You’re going to mess it up if you keep treating it like something fragile.”
“That’s because it is fragile.”
“Or maybe it’s just new.”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t feel new.”
That slipped out before I could stop it.
Bennett’s expression shifted slightly.
“What does it feel like?”
He asked.
I hesitated.
Because the honest answer?
It felt like something that had been building for a while, and I was just late to realizing it.
“It feels like something I should have dealt with earlier.”
I admitted.
Bennett didn’t look surprised.
“Yeah.”
He said.
“Same.”
“Come here.”
He said.
My heart stuttered.
“What?”
“Come here.”
He repeated, softer this time.
I didn’t move.
Not right away.
Because this this felt like a step.
A real one.
“You’re doing it again.”
He added.
“Doing what?”
“Freezing.”
I exhaled slowly.
Then, before I could overthink it any more than I already had, I shifted closer.
Not all the way.
Just enough to close the gap a little.
Bennett didn’t say anything.
But I saw the way his shoulders relaxed slightly.
Like that mattered more than he expected.
We sat like that for a second.
Close.
Too aware.
My pulse was loud in my ears.
“This okay?”
He asked quietly.
The fact that he asked, that alone made something in my chest loosen.
“Yeah.”
I said.
And I meant it.
For a moment, nothing happened.
No big move.
No sudden shift.
Just proximity.
Then I felt it.
His hand brushing against mine.
Light.
Testing.
I didn’t pull away.
That was mistake number two.
Because the second I didn’t, he didn’t either.
Our fingers shifted slightly.
Not fully intertwined.
But close enough that it wasn’t accidental anymore.
And that’s when everything in my chest went tight.
Because this wasn’t just tension anymore.
This was real.
“Still okay?”
He asked again.
His voice was lower now.
Closer.
“Yeah.”
I said, even though my brain was starting to spiral.
Because now I couldn’t pretend this was something I could fix.
I couldn’t ignore it.
I couldn’t redirect it.
I could only feel it.
And that terrified me.
Because the more I let it happen, the less control I had.
And I was starting to realize control was never actually mine to begin with.
I wish I could say I handled that moment well.
That I stayed calm, took it slow, let things unfold naturally like Bennett said.
I didn’t.
I overthought it.
Immediately.
Because sitting there, his hand barely touching mine, my brain went into overdrive.
What does this mean?
Is this a mistake?
What happens after this?
And just like that, I did exactly what I’d been doing this whole time.
Tried to control it.
I pulled my hand back.
Not aggressively.
Just enough.
Enough to break it.
Bennett noticed instantly.
Of course he did.
His hand stilled where it was for a second before he let it drop to his side.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
“Sorry.”
I muttered, sitting up a little straighter.
“I just Yeah.”
He said quietly.
“You’re overthinking.”
I exhaled, dragging a hand over my face.
“I told you I would.”
“I told you not to.”
“Yeah, well.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“Turns out I’m not great at that.”
Silence settled between us again.
But this time, it wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t heavy in that charged, almost hopeful way.
It felt off.
Like I’d just taken something fragile and bent it slightly out of shape.
“I’m not trying to make this weird.”
I said after a second.
Bennett leaned back into the couch, looking at the TV but clearly not watching it.
“I know.”
“Then why does it feel like I just did?”
He didn’t answer right away.
And that was answer enough.
My chest tightened.
“This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”
I admitted.
“I knew it would get complicated.”
Bennett glanced at me then.
“It’s only complicated because you keep fighting it.”
“I’m not fighting it.”
“You literally just pulled away.”
He said, not harsh, but direct.
“That doesn’t mean I’m fighting it.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means I don’t want to mess this up.”
I finally.
“And you think pulling away is going to help with that?”
“I think rushing into something we don’t understand is worse.”
Bennett’s jaw tightened slightly.
“So now this is rushing?”
“No, that’s not what I It was just a hand, Damien.”
“I know that.”
“Then why did you react like that?”
“Because it felt like more than a hand.
Because it felt like the point of no return.
Because if I didn’t stop it there, I wouldn’t stop at all.”
But I couldn’t say any of that out loud.
So instead, “I just need a second.”
I said.
Bennett looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.
“All right.”
But the way he said it, it wasn’t frustration.
It was distance.
And that hit worse.
The rest of the night didn’t recover.
We stayed in the same room, technically still hanging out, but everything felt forced.
The easy rhythm we had?
Gone.
Replaced with something stiff.
Careful.
By the time I went to bed, my chest felt heavy again.
But not in the same way as before.
This wasn’t confusion anymore.
It was regret.
The next day was worse.
Because Bennett didn’t avoid me.
That would have been easier.
Instead, he acted normal.
Too normal.
Like nothing had happened.
Like we hadn’t been sitting inches apart the night before, almost crossing a line I was too scared to step over.
“Morning.”
He said, grabbing his keys as I walked into the kitchen.
“Hey.”
“I’m heading out.
Got stuff to do.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He paused by the door.
“Later?”
“Yeah.”
And then he left.
Just like that.
No tension.
No weirdness.
Just distance disguised as normal.
I stood there for a second after the door closed, trying to figure out why that felt worse than an argument.
And then it hit me.
This is what I wanted, right?
Space.
Control.
No rushing.
So why did it feel like I’d just taken a step backwards?
Because I had.
I tried to fix it again.
And just like before, it only made things worse.
That night, he came home late.
Later than usual.
I was on the couch, pretending to watch something, but really just waiting.
The second I heard the door open, my attention snapped to it.
Bennett walked in, running a hand through his hair, looking slightly tired.
“Hey.”
He said.
“Hey.”
He kicked his shoes off, dropping his keys on the counter.
For a second, I thought he was just going to go straight to his room.
And honestly, that thought made something in my chest drop.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stopped, looked at me.
“Did you figure it out yet?”
He asked.
I frowned slightly.
“Figure what out?”
“What do you want?”
The question hit harder than I expected because I’d been avoiding it hard.
“I I hesitated.
I don’t know.”
Bennett nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
That was it.
No pushing.
No frustration.
Just acceptance.
And for some reason, that made everything feel worse.
“Why aren’t you arguing with me?”
I asked.
He let out a small breath.
“Because I’m not trying to convince you of anything.”
“That’s not what you were doing before.”
“Yeah.”
He admitted.
“And it clearly didn’t help.”
I sat up slightly.
“So, that’s it?”
“You’re just going to back off?”
“I’m giving you space.”
He said.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
The way he said it, calm, controlled, it made my chest tighten again.
Because yeah, that was what I wanted.
So, why did it feel like I was losing something?
“I didn’t say I wanted you to disappear.”
I muttered.
“I’m not disappearing.”
“It kind of feels like it.”
Bennett looked at me for a long second.
“That’s because you’re used to me pushing.”
I didn’t respond because he was right.
And now that he wasn’t, I didn’t know how to handle it.
“You can’t have it both ways, Damian.”
He added quietly.
“You can’t pull me in and push me away at the same time.”
That landed hard because that’s exactly what I’d been doing.
And for the first time since this all started, I realized something I didn’t want to admit.
Trying to fix myself didn’t just fail.
It pushed Bennett away, too.
And if I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose him anyway.
Just in a different way than I expected.
I didn’t fix it.
That was the realization that finally settled in after that conversation.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just quietly.
Like something clicking into place, whether I liked it or not.
Because everything I’d tried, ignoring it, distracting myself, pulling away, all it did was create distance.
And not the kind I wanted.
That night, after Bennett went to his room, I stayed on the couch for a long time.
Just sitting there, staring at nothing.
Thinking about what he said.
“You can’t have it both ways.”
He was right.
I wanted him close, but only on my terms.
Only in a way that didn’t force me to actually face what this was.
And that wasn’t fair.
Not to him.
Not to me.
I dragged a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.
“Great.”
I muttered to myself.
“You really nailed that, Damian.”
No response, obviously.
Just the quiet hum of the apartment.
I sat there for a few more minutes, then stood up before I could talk myself out of it.
His door was closed.
Of course it was.
I stood there for a second, staring at it like it might somehow solve this for me.
It didn’t.
So, I knocked.
Soft.
“Yeah?”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I opened the door slightly, leaning against the frame.
“Hey.”
Bennett was sitting on his bed, phone in hand, but he looked up immediately.
“What’s up?”
Straightforward.
Neutral.
God, I hated that.
“Can we talk?”
I asked.
He studied me for a second, then nodded.
“Yeah.”
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
For a moment, I just stood there because suddenly, I didn’t know how to start.
Bennett waited, didn’t rush me, didn’t fill the silence.
And that somehow made it harder.
“I’ve been doing exactly what you said.”
I admitted finally.
He tilted his head slightly.
“Pushing you away?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
He said, like he was just acknowledging it, not judging.
“And I didn’t even realize how much I was doing it until you stopped pushing back.”
I added.
That got a small reaction.
Not big.
Just a slight shift in his expression.
“Yeah.”
He said quietly.
“That was kind of the point.”
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I get that now.”
Another pause.
But this one felt less tense.
More honeSt. “I thought if I could control it, I wouldn’t mess anything up.”
I continued.
“But I think I did the opposite.”
Bennett didn’t interrupt.
Just listened.
“I made it worse.”
I said.
“Not because of what this is, but because I wouldn’t just let it be.”
I finally looked at him.
“And I’m still scared of messing it up.”
I admitted.
“That hasn’t changed.”
“Yeah.”
He said softly.
“Me, too.”
That surprised me.
“You are?”
“Of course.”
He said.
“You think I’ve got this all figured out?”
I let out a small breath.
“I don’t know.”
“You seem calmer about it.”
“I’m not calmer.”
He said.
“I’m just not fighting it.”
That hit because that’s exactly what I’d been doing.
“I don’t know how to do that.”
I admitted.
Bennett held my gaze for a second.
“Then stop trying to do anything.”
He said.
I frowned slightly.
“That sounds like doing something.”
He almost smiled.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
I said quietly.
“I think I do.”
Another pause.
But this one, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It felt like we were finally on the same page.
Or at least trying to be.
“I don’t want you to back off.”
I said after a moment.
Bennett’s expression shifted slightly.
“Then don’t push me away.”
“Fair.”
Again.
“I’m serious.”
I added.
“I don’t want to keep doing that.”
“Then don’t.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
He said.
And the way he said it, it wasn’t dismissive.
It was understanding.
Like he actually believed that.
Which made it easier to breathe.
For a second, either of us moved.
Then Bennett shifted slightly on the bed.
“Come here.”
The same words as before.
But this time, it felt different.
Less like a teSt. More like an invitation.
I hesitated out of habit more than anything, then walked over, sat down next to him.
Close.
Closer than before.
My pulse picked up again.
But I didn’t pull away.
Didn’t overthink it.
Well, not as much.
Bennett didn’t move right away.
Just sat there, letting the space settle.
“This okay?”
He asked quietly.
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
And this time, I meant it without second-guessing.
A second later, I felt it again.
His hand brushing mine.
The same as before.
Light.
Careful.
But not hesitant.
I tensed just slightly.
But I didn’t pull away.
I forced myself not to because I knew exactly where that led.
Instead, I let it happen.
Our fingers shifted.
This time, a little more intentional.
Still not fully laced together, but enough.
Enough to feel it.
Enough to know this wasn’t something I could fix.
And maybe maybe that wasn’t the point.
I glanced at him.
He was already looking at me.
“Better?”
He asked softly.
I exhaled slowly.
“Yeah.”
I admitted.
And for the first time since all of this started, it didn’t feel like things were getting worse.
It felt like I had finally stopped making them worse.
And that was something.
I didn’t magically stop overthinking after that.
That would have been too easy.
But something did change.
I stopped fighting every little moment.
And that made a bigger difference than I expected.
The next few days weren’t perfect, but they felt real.
No pretending.
No forcing distance.
Just us figuring it out as we went.
And yeah, there were still moments where my brain tried to spiral.
Like when we’d sit a little too close.
Or when his hand would linger just a second longer than it used to.
Or when I caught myself wanting that instead of avoiding it.
That part?
That part took some getting used to.
But I didn’t run from it anymore.
And neither did he.
It was a Friday night when things finally shifted again.
Not in a chaotic way.
Not like before.
This time, it felt steady.
We were back on the couch, same spot as always.
Except now, it didn’t feel like we were pretending it was the same.
Bennett was sitting close, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind me.
Not touching, but there.
Present.
I could feel it without him having to do anything.
You’re quiet.
He said after a while.
I glanced at him.
Just thinking.
Dangerous.
I huffed a small laugh.
Yeah, I’ve been told.
He watched me for a second.
You okay?
That question used to make me deflect.
Brush it off.
But now, yeah.
I said honestly.
Just figuring things out.
Anything I should be worried about?
He asked lightly.
I shook my head.
No.
Actually, the opposite.
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
That sounds suspicious.
I smiled a little.
It just means I’m not trying to fix anything anymore.
That got his attention.
Yeah?
Yeah.
I said.
Turns out forcing it was the problem.
Bennet studied me for a second.
Then nodded slowly.
Good.
That was it.
No big reaction.
Just approval.
And for some reason, that felt better than anything else.
We fell into a comfortable silence after that.
Not heavy.
Not awkward.
Just easy.
And then, without thinking too much about it, I leaned back slightly.
Into him.
It wasn’t a big move.
Barely noticeable.
But it was intentional.
Bennet didn’t freeze.
Didn’t question it.
His arm shifted naturally, resting more securely behind me.
Closer.
And this time, I didn’t overanalyze it.
I just let it happen.
Look at you.
He murmured after a second.
Not pulling away.
I rolled my eyes lightly.
Don’t make it a thing.
I’m not.
He said.
Just noticing.
Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.
I muttered.
But there wasn’t any real resistance behind it.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
Too late.
I shook my head slightly, but I was smiling.
And that’s when I realized something.
This didn’t feel like something that needed to be fixed.
It didn’t feel like a problem anymore.
It just felt like us.
Different, yeah.
But not broken.
Not ruined.
Just changed.
And maybe that wasn’t something to fight.
Hey.
Bennet said after a moment.
Yeah?
He hesitated.
Not long.
Just enough to make it matter.
Then, he shifted slightly.
His hand brushing against mine again.
Familiar now.
But still intentional.
I looked down for a second.
Then back at him.
And instead of freezing, instead of pulling away, I let my fingers move.
Just enough to meet his.
Not fully.
Not dramatic.
Just there.
A choice.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
A small, almost relieved smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
And that’s when it clicked.
Not everything needs to be controlled.
Not everything needs to be solved.
Some things, you just let happen.
I think I get it now.
I said quietly.
Get what?
He asked.
I exhaled softly.
Trying to fix myself was never the answer.
Bennet’s gaze softened slightly.
No?
I shook my head.
It just made everything worse.
He nodded once.
Yeah.
I figured.
I glanced at him.
Yeah, well, I’m a little late to that realization.
Better late than never.
He said.
I smiled faintly.
Yeah.
And for the first time since all of this started, I wasn’t thinking about what could go wrong.
I wasn’t trying to control what came next.
I wasn’t trying to fix anything.
I was just there.
With him.
And somehow, that felt like enough.
