Fiction - Friction

He was pissed.

"Why do you this?" He snapped.

She sighed.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about this."

"In your own little world, maybe. But here on Earth..."

She turned over, pulling on the covers. "I need to be up early."

He watched her form twist in the darkness, then reached over and turned on the lamp.

She cursed.

"I have to be up at 6." She snapped back.

"I don't care. We're doing this."

"Now?"

"Now." His voice said firmly.

She flipped over.

"Fine." Her voice, dead.

"You don't trust me."

"I trust you."

"You're lying." He accused.

"Now who has trust iss-" She joked.

"Don't." He said sharply.

"What?"

"Don't make jokes. Leave it alone."

She lay there quietly.

"You're angry." She said, bewildered. "Why are you angry with me?"

This time, he turned away.

"Forget it."

"Oh, no. I will *NOT* forget it. What is this about? Is it the sex?"

"No."

"It better not be the sex, because it's good."

"It's great."

"The sex? " She asked.

"Yes." He agreed.

"Then what..." her voice faltered.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be a part of something?" He whispered. "To be open and free, and enjoy life?"

"I am a part of something." She said.

"No, you hide things. You hide them from your friends, and you hide them from me."

She said nothing.

"And you can't even admit it, can you?"

Her heart pounded in her chest.

"I need more," He begged. "Can't you give me more? Or is this all you've got to give?"

She reached over to touch him.

He flinched.

The silence held them still, as they waited for the other to fix the breach.

No words came.

He left the next morning.

--

The Trusting-or-is-it-trustless Bastard?