Dying Inside

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to join Scott Allan Thomas and Kathleen Rose Malone in holy matrimony..."

I swallow the painful lump that has formed in my throat as Reverend Parker begins the ceremony that will officially shatter what's left of my broken heart.

My tux feels like it's suffocating me, and I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball on the floor of the church and wait for the ground to swallow me whole, but he's my best friend, and she's my sister. So I'll be the man that everyone has always known and expected me to be, and I'll stand by his side and wish the two of them all the happiness in the world.

Even though my chances of such a future are completely hopeless.

As time-honored words of love and commitment are read from various passages in the Bible, I do my best to keep the smile plastered on my face for their sake. I love them both more than anything, so the least I can do is not let them know just how badly I'm dying on the inside.

My eyes swim with unshed tears, and I try my hardest to push the gut-wrenching thoughts from my mind and focus on Scott and Kate as they're united in holy matrimony. I've never seen her so blissfully happy, and my heart warms as I take in her beaming smile. The girl is practically glowing as she stares adoringly into his sparkling, sapphire eyes, and I'm so unbelievably grateful because I couldn't have asked for a better husband for my sister.

Scott and I have been best friends ever since the third grade, after my parents divorced, and my mom, sister and I moved from Rochester to Buffalo and into the house next door to his. The three of us were practically inseparable over the years, so it came as no surprise to anyone when Kate began dating Scott in high school, despite the fact that she was a year older than him.

It had been difficult, to say the least, seeing them grow closer together as time went on, doing things without me, holding hands, kissing each other's lips.

Unable to bear being near them when I knew they were being intimate with one another, I had decided to move out to Texas for college, to escape the secret wants and desires that threatened to be my undoing.

While we were separated, I tried so very hard to make myself forget, to make my feelings go away. I played the field and did things that normal guys my age did. I even had a girlfriend for a while and tried like hell to make it work with her. Sarah said she loved me, and I thought it would be enough.

I figured if I could force myself to stay away and be with someone else, it would make my wretched feelings change. But, in the end, I had only ended up hurting the both of us. When I had confessed that I didn't love her, but that I was in love with another, Sarah had been devastated, and I had been utterly ashamed of myself. I was such a failure, in more ways than one.

And even though I knew it was inevitable, when Scott and Kate had announced their engagement a few months ago, I had congratulated them–like any normal best friend should–and then I had taken off for a couple of weeks, just driving around and trying to rein in my overwhelming emotions.

As the happy couple kneels at the altar and takes their communion, the look of sheer joy on Scott's beautiful face as he gazes longingly at Kate is too much for me to bear, and I have to look away before I totally lose it in front of all of our family and friends.

My chest constricts as I realize that no one has ever looked at me that way–not even Sarah–and even if, by some miracle, someone does look at me like that someday far off into the future, it won't be the face I want it to be. It will never be that face.

Reverend Parker leads the congregation in a prayer for the happy couple, and as I bow my head and close my eyes, the images come unbidden to me. I can't stop them from flashing through my mind, so I finally give in and let them wash over me, consuming me.

I know full well that this is the only chance we'll ever have at being together. This is the only time I'll ever reveal my true feelings... in my head.

His sapphire eyes are shining as he lifts my hand to his full lips and presses them softly to my skin, running the pad of his thumb lovingly against my knuckles. I've wanted him ever since I'd become aware of my own body. It's always reacted whenever he's around, and today is certainly no exception.

Our mouths crash together in a passionate embrace, mine opening up to receive the offering of his tongue as it slides and swirls against my own. My fingers caress the roughness of his five o'clock shadow before moving up to thread through his gloriously soft blond hair. I pull gently on the strands, eliciting a groan from him.

I smile at the sound as our tongues continue their sensual dance together. His wandering hands roam my body, sliding down my chest and around to my ass, pulling my pelvis flush against his. We both hiss at the contact as his thick hardness presses into mine.

God, how I want this man. I've never wanted anything more in my entire twenty-three years.

He must feel the same way, because he starts grasping at the buttons of my shirt, hastily removing it as his mouth moves more urgently against mine, then down my neck, licking and nipping my overheated flesh along the way. As his teeth graze one of my nipples, I let out an involuntary gasp and grow impossibly harder.

I need more contact, more skin, more friction, just... more. He helps me yank his shirt off, and my insides clench as I take in the beauty that is his sculpted chest. It's my turn now to explore his torso, and I do so with wild abandon, letting my hands, my mouth, and my tongue show him just how much I desperately want him, how much I worship his god-like, masculine form.

Our pants are the next things to go, followed by our boxers, and then we're finally–oh, God, finally–standing bare before one another. This is the moment I've been yearning for ever since we were fifteen.

He's more beautiful beyond anything I have ever imagined, and all I can think about in that moment is that he wants me. Me! How in the world did I ever get so lucky?

His mouth curves up into a sexy as hell crooked grin as his hand reaches out to stroke me, and I can't help but let my eyes roll into the back of my head and moan at how good his expert touch feels. So damn good.

My fingers wrap around his smooth length, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out at how hot and hard he is. And it's all for me. Every single delectable inch.

We spend countless hours wrapped in each other, and it's the absolute best time of my entire life. Being sheathed inside him, with my arms around his hips and my mouth on his neck... it's better than my wildest, wettest dreams.

The only thing that possibly tops it is him inside of me, his fingers caressing and gripping my body as he pumps himself furiously into me, coming undone and calling out my name as he falls over the edge in orgasmic bliss.

We collapse to the damp sheets and tangle our limbs together, embracing one another as we try to get our ragged breathing under control. We're completely spent and totally drenched in each other's semen and sweat, and I don't think it can ever get any better than this.

But then it does.

"I love you, Ethan," he says. "I've always loved you."

And I want to cry because it's the one thing in the world I've wanted to hear since I can't even remember.

"Ethan?" Scott whispers, viciously yanking me from my blissful thoughts. "I need the ring."

I swallow painfully and try to get my thoughts back under control, hoping and praying like mad that no one will notice the massive erection I'm now sporting beneath my tuxedo. Smiling sheepishly, I reach into my pocket and pull out his grandmother's antique wedding band and hand it over.

He grins, thankfully oblivious to my current predicament, and squeezes my hand briefly as he takes it from my grasp, and I try not to let it show just how much this is killing me. I have to be strong for my sister. For him.

It's their wedding day, but it feels more like a funeral to me... mine.

I hate myself with a passion for wanting what I can't have, wanting what I know is rightfully hers. But even more than my own selfish wishes and desires, I truly long for nothing more than their happiness, even though it will cost me my own.

"If anyone knows a reason why these two should not be joined together, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

"I LOVE YOU, SCOTT!" my mind screams and cries and yells. "You're making the biggest mistake of your life! You don't belong with Kate. You belong with me. I love you so much, it fucking hurts. Please don't marry her. I want to be with you. I just want to love you and to be loved by you."

My teeth clamp together, and I bite down so hard that it's almost painful. But nothing can even come close to the excruciating agony I'm feeling inside as I remain as silent as possible.

With the rings firmly in place and the vows of love and honor spoken, Reverend Parker smiles and says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Again, it's too much to take in, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I want to die. In fact, I pray for death to take me several times while the congregation applauds and whistles. Thankfully, no one can see the tears in my soul that will never stop falling.

After Scott releases Kate's lips, he turns to me with the happiest grin I've ever seen, and I force one right back at him and clap him on the shoulder, nodding at him in silent congratulations because there's no way in hell I'll be able to use my voice right now without falling apart.

At the reception, I toss back a glass of bourbon and pray it numbs me enough to get through the toast and the next two hours of fake smiles and lies of how happy I am. I can do it, and, more importantly, I will do it.

I'll do it for my sister because she means the world to me. We've always been there for each other, and I'm not about to change that now. She's goofy and stubborn, adorable and clumsy, and she deserves nothing less than the best.

I'll do it for Scott because he is the best. He's amazingly talented and incredibly smart, beyond beautiful and ridiculously funny, and he's the greatest friend I've ever had in my entire life.

I would give anything and everything for him to be more, but no matter how much I may wish things were different, they aren't. They'll never be different. Never in a million fucking years.

So I hold back my emotions that are fighting with all of their might to rip out of my chest as I stand to my feet and tell them and everyone else in attendance how happy I am that they're together. How wonderful they are for one another. How I've never known two people more perfect for each other.

I laugh and I smile, and I raise my glass and say, "To Scott and Kate." Everyone cheers, and we all take a sip in honor of my sister and the man who will never love me the way that I love him.

And I know that as soon as this thing is over, and they're on a plane bound for some exotic island in the Caribbean, I'm going to go home, break down, and completely lose it. I'm going to get as drunk as I possibly can and hope that I never wake up.

But for now, I'll suck it up and be their best man, because that's what they need me to be, and I can't let them down now.

"Thanks, man," Scott says as he sets his empty glass onto the table and wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.

For the brief moment that our embrace lasts, I relish in the contact, the feel of his warm chest against mine, the spicy scent of his cologne as it swirls through the air.

"You're the best friend I could've ever asked for," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

Friend.

Fuck. That's all I'll ever be, and I wish that God would just strike me down right now because how the hell am I supposed to go on living now?

How am I going to survive seeing them at every single holiday, watching my sister as her belly eventually grows round with his child, seeing the love of my life laugh and play with their children as they grow old and gray together?

"Right back at ya," I manage to choke out as I reluctantly release him and laugh nervously. "Now get out there and dance with my sister, you asshole," I joke, as always, to cover up the intense turmoil fiercely brewing inside of me.

He chuckles in response and punches me in the shoulder before trotting off and taking Kate in his arms. He pulls her body in tight against his as they spin and twirl on the dance floor. She trips several times, but he catches her, just like I know he always will.

I dance with some of the other ladies in attendance because it's expected–Stephanie, Amanda, Jessica, Emily–but despite their beauty and intelligence, I feel absolutely nothing for them. No pounding in my heart. No fluttering in my stomach. No twitching in my pants.

The only one who has ever elicited those kinds of reactions can never possibly know how much I desperately love him. I wouldn't dare risk the relationship with my sister and her happiness with Scott, not to mention I know for a fact that he doesn't feel the same way about me. Just as I've only had eyes for him, he's only ever had eyes for her.

And I've never told a single soul about my feelings. My parents would probably disown me if they knew.

"Ethan, when are you going to settle down and give me grandchildren?" my mom asks for the millionth time, and I just laugh and tell her that I'm still playing the field, that I'm having too much fun being "a ladies man."

It's a good thing I'm such an exceptional liar because she just rolls her eyes, as usual, and mutters, "Boys" beneath her breath, before moving on and rejoining my step-dad at their table.

The cake is cut, bouquet tossed, and garter flung. Scott and I pose for pictures, and as we stand there with arms clapped across each other's shoulders, it takes everything within me to keep a straight face and not tell him how I feel, to keep myself from pressing my lips to his.

"I love you, Ethan," Kate whispers through a veil of tears as she embraces me before getting into the limousine. "I'll text you when we get there."

I nod my head and kiss her cheek and shove my haggard emotions back down, saving them for later, when no one will be around to see me fall apart.

Scott gives me one final hug, along with another thank you for being such an awesome friend, and I smile and bite my tongue like I've always done and watch as they drive off into the sunset, leaving me behind, alone, with a gaping chasm in my soul.

Grabbing my jacket and keys, I say goodbye to my mom and head out to my car in a state of complete and total numbness. I can't feel anything except the pitiful emptiness where my heart is supposed to be.

In my mournful haze, I don't see the stout raven-haired man leaning against my car door until I'm right in front of him.

"Hey," he says, looking a little uncomfortable. "How you holding up?"

I let out a breath of air through my nose and shrug, quirking my mouth upward. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

He purses his lips and hesitates for a few awkward moments before muttering, "It'll happen for you too someday... You'll, um, you'll find someone that, well, that loves you like he loves her."

No, I won't. I resist the urge to cry, or to tell him to fuck off, or to laugh bitterly at the hand fate has dealt me. Instead, I nod with my smile firmly in place and say, "Yeah. I'm sure the right girl's out there somewhere."

His tongue darts out to nervously lick his lips as he smooths down the hairs of his mustache. "Yeah. Or, you know, er," he stammers, yanking on his shirt collar as if he can't breathe, and stares at the ground. "Well, or, um, the right guy."

I try not to react, but I can't help it. His whispered words have caught me completely off guard, and all I can do is gape at him incredulously as my palms sweat, and my pulse races.

Utterly terrified at being called out, I cast a thoroughly shocked glance in my father's direction, but all he does is roll his eyes and arch an eyebrow, as if daring me to challenge him.

The guilt of my tormenting emotions comes crashing down on me, and, unsure of how to respond, I exhale a shaky breath as I meekly utter, "Sorry, Dad."

His brow swiftly furrows together. "Sorry for what? Don't ever apologize for who you are, kid. I'm, uh... I'm the one who should be sorry," he confesses, wringing his fingers together.

"What?"

I know I haven't really been around much since your mom and I split, and I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't talk to me–"

"I–"

"Look, I know it... well, it hurts, but just take it from someone who wallowed in unrequited love for years. Don't miss what's out there. I almost let Theresa pass me by because I was still hoping your mom would take me back some day, even after almost fifteen years."

He shrugs wistfully and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his tuxedo as his normally gruff voice grows quiet. "Anyway, I just don't want to see you make the same mistakes I did."

I stand there completely shell-shocked. Who is this man, and what has he done with my father?

"I, um... I love you, Ethan," he mutters. Again, I'm speechless, because he's never been one to show his emotions. Ever. I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I've heard that particular phrase fall from his lips over the years.

"You're a good kid," he continues. "And I'm sure that, uh, well, that someone out there will love you even more someday."

A few tears manage to escape my eyes, and I quickly wipe them away as I swallow thickly and respond, "I love you, too, Dad. Thank you." For more than you'll ever know.

He nods and clears his throat before awkwardly slapping me on the back and leaving to go join Theresa, his wife of just six months. I stare at his retreating form, more than surprised at the conversation that has just taken place.

Shaking me head in utter disbelief, I slide into my sedan and drive off, realizing that the weight I've been carrying around for so very long isn't quite as heavy as it once was. The knowledge that someone–my father of all people–finally knows the true me and isn't rejecting me because of it is immensely comforting.

However, despite all of this, not a damn thing can help alleviate the gut-wrenching agony that consumes me once I'm back inside my cramped apartment, the only man I've ever wanted officially lost to me forever.

I spend the next however many hours foolishly trying to drown my sorrows in a bottle of Jack, all the while torturing myself with the knowledge of the many things I won't ever get the chance to experience.

Scott and I will never hold hands as we casually stroll through the mall together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. He won't be there to greet me, wearing nothing but that sexy crooked grin of his, when I come home from work in the evening.

I'll never get to feel his naked form pressed against mine, never taste the salty sweetness of his release or know the bliss of mine pulsing inside of him.

The mind-numbing hours turn into days. Days become weeks, and before I know it, several months have passed since that god-awful day.

I've talked to my father a couple of times since then, but neither of us has ever brought up our awkward heart-to-heart, and I haven't had the courage or the will to bother saying anything to my mom.

Part of me is unsure of how she'll react, but an even greater part is afraid that word will somehow get back to Scott, and there's no way in hell I want to have that conversation right now or chance risking what limited contact we've had since the wedding.