"When you're frightened by something, you try to control it." -Marcuculli

(Tellqvist POV)

Picasso was frightened by women; he didn't understand them. Which in a way, I suppose, makes his womanizing disposition understandable. Not to mention the fact he grew up in Spain where he was brought up surrounded by "machismo." His dad wanted him to paint pigeons for Christ's sake.

But I'm off on a tangent again. Picasso hung out with whores, prostitutes, and had several girlfriends throughout his life. Well, if you could call them girlfriends. He stole one of his girlfriend's shoes one time because he didn't want her to leave his studio. Told her to dress in black so that the other men in France couldn't look at her, lust over her. Francesca thought he was insanely jealous, but stayed with him because she loved him. "He was so gentle when we were alone."

He ended up sleeping with her best friend.

I read The End of the Affair when I was in my late teens. A story of a love affair gone awry, perhaps due to fate, but in its opening chapter, Bendrix states that his story is not one of love, but of hate. He measured his love by his jealousy. I never really got him. He wasn't a complex character (or maybe he was and that's why I never understood him), but his naiveté towards relationships surprised me. How could jealousy have anything to do with love?

Turns out, I'm the naïve one. Or perhaps Mikael is.

He's controlling and jealous. He correlates jealousy with love, just like Bendrix. If he wasn't jealous all the time, I'm not so sure I'd be able to tell he cared. Sometimes that scares me. Because isn't he supposed to love me for me? Be attracted to me? Not by association and not because some other guy shows interest in me.

He's trying to control something that he doesn't understand; something that frightens him. He's afraid he's in love with me. He's afraid that I'm not in love with him. And it doesn't seem to matter what I say, how many kisses I give, he still doesn't believe me. At least not fully. He thinks I'm a naïve twenty-something year old who's going to dump him at the end of the month.

So he prepares himself for what he thinks is the inevitable. He ends up just making both of us miserable as he slowly destroys our relationship. Most relationships are based on trust. I trust him; he trusts in the fact that this relationship will end. Only he thinks I'm going to end it.

He doesn't know he will.

//

I thought the Canada game was amazing. I think I like this one more. Not just because we beat the Czech Republic, but because we got to meet the King and Queen of Sweden. How many regular Joes like me can say that?

The team's really upbeat; we play Germany next, and while they're a good defensive team, they're definitely a step lower. Hopefully we'll be able to get an easy win, go up 3-0 in our grouping, and have a great match up after the seeding.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I shouldn't be focusing on a game in a future, least of all hockey, especially while lying next to Mikael watching t.v. I should be relishing the few moments we have together. Perhaps, I'm partially to blame because I've been spending time with Tommy, but…

Tommy's a great guy, a great goaltender, but he's not my Mikael. I wish Mikael would remember that. And I like hanging out with Tommy and the rest of the guys on the team. I shouldn't have to feel guilty just because I'm not hanging out with Mikael all the time. It reminds me of summer camp when I was a kid. Three of my friends from school were there, but I've never had a problem striking up a conversation, so on the second day, I decided to eat lunch with some new guys.

I've never seen my friends look so betrayed. You'd have thought I'd run their dogs over with my bicycle, not told them I was eating lunch with some other kids. I was in third grade at the time. By the time I was twelve I had different friends, who didn't care who I ate lunch with. I'd outgrown them. Will I outgrow Mikael? Is he just a phase?

Is my homosexuality just a phase?

That's the sarcastic part of my brain kicking in. Because I know I love him; I know that this, he, isn't a phase.

He leans over and kisses me on the neck. My senses burn alive with that one touch. His hands sneak under my shirt and his lips are traveling up my neck when I open my mouth. And say something really stupid.

"Did you lock the door?"

Mikael pulls away angrily before stomping over to the door and locking the deadbolt. "Happy?"

Not really. He lies back down on the bed and picks up the remote. He's wearing an angry pout, which, as always, is extremely irresistible. I lean across, my forearm on the bed for support, and cup his face. He brushes my hand away, though, before I'm able to kiss him.

"Why'd you have to go and ruin the moment?"

"I didn't," I protest. "I just wanted to ensure that we'd finally have some privacy. Isn't that what you've wanted all week?" He and I both know I'm lying. We lock the doors so no one will find out about us-find out that we're dating, find out we're in love, but more importantly, find out that we're gay. And I know on some subconscious level that hurts him. He knows, I know, that anyone finding out about us would be a blow to both our careers. It still hurts though to know that we can only express how we truly feel behind closed doors. That we have to hide, that on any given day, I can't kiss him without worrying whether or not the door is locked.

I can see the hurt in his eyes and all I want to do is kiss him and try and make him forget how unfair it all really is. And make him remember why we do it and why we're still together. While I'm busy fantasizing feeling his scratchy, 5 o'clock shadow, cheek against my own, his mind appears to be elsewhere.

"Is that really why you asked?"

I cock my head to the side and smile. "Of course."

He scowls. "Are you sure it isn't because you're afraid Tommy might walk in?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, that's it. Because Tommy would walk into your room expecting to find me on your bed making out with you."

He scowls again. "You know what I meant."

"No, I don't. For some reason you think Tommy and I have got something going on. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but we don't." Now he's got me scowling.

"That would explain why you're always drooling over him in the locker room."

I stand up and begin pulling on my jacket. I don't need this from him. I don't need another night of angry jealous rants. "Thanks so much, Mikael. Thanks so fucking much for trusting me." I pull on my shoes. "Nice to know four months down the line you have that much faith in me."

I'm unlocking the door when he places his hand over mind and turns me around. "I'm sorry." He kisses me and I'm lost in the feeling his mouth, his lips, his hand on the small of my back. It'd be so easy to stay, to allow myself to get lost in the feeling of him. To stay the night and wake up in his arms in the morning.

And then sneak out early in the morning or possibly get into another argument. Relationships are always complex. I know that. But Mikael's jealousy often makes ours more complex than necessary.

"You should be. If you want a fuck buddy, call your roommate. You want a boyfriend, call me. I'll be in my room." I know that was a bit unfair of me, but often, ultimatums are the only way to get through to him.

I step outside and he slams the door behind me.

When I return to my room, Tommy's already there. "Have a good dinner?" He nods while I take off my coat and lay it on my bed before falling face first onto it and groaning.

"You?"

"Yeah," comes my muffled reply from the bedsheets.

"Trouble with Mikael?"

I turn my head to the side so I can answer. "How did you guess?" See, what Mikael doesn't know is that Tommy knows about the two of us. It wasn't anything that I had planned. Just an ecstatic comment blurted out in fervor when Tommy revealed his own less than heterosexual thoughts. It's amazing how you can be roommates with a guy for less than a week, but he knows more about you than your own parents do. Or just sad.

"Lucky, I suppose." He smiles. I smile. And then I wonder what it would be like to date Tommy Salo. Bad thoughts, of course, but that doesn't stop me from wondering what it'd be like to date a guy comfortable not only with his own sexuality, but one's whose self esteem doesn't need assurance every time I talk to another guy. Summer camp all over again.

I close my eyes. Why couldn't everything be as simple as it was the other night? Why couldn't every night be spent in Mikael's arms? No talking about the game, no talking about somebody finding out about us. Just lying there listening to him breathe. To be there, lying next to him, knowing I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and to know he didn't know it, breaks my heart. He deserves to know. He deserves to be able to hear me say I love him in public.

But so do I.

I can't remember the last time he told me he loves me. He must've mumbled "I cheese sandwich you" at least a dozen times in the last month. Whatever that means.

I open my eyes to see Tommy's comforting ones staring back at me. He's moved from his bed and he's squatting on the floor between the two beds so he's eye level with me. "Things'll work out between the two of you."

"Promise?"

He shrugs his shoulders and kisses me on the cheek. The shrug isn't that encouraging, but the kiss is. Searing my cheek, I feel my breath quicken. It scares me. Everything I felt for Mikael seems to have flown out the window. His lips, his hands, his scent and smell are forgotten for the moment and all I can think is that this is right. I want this. I want to kiss Tommy.

So I do.

And immediately regret it. Things become more heated and suddenly he pulls away and goes back to his bed and there's this awful feeling in my stomach. My gut is wrenched into two and I want to cry. Because it wasn't awful, but I still love Mikael. It wasn't awful, and I wanted to kiss him again. It wasn't awful, but he didn't want to kiss me.

The phone rings and since Tommy makes no move to pick it up, I do.

"Mikael?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I just...I get like that sometimes. My emotions get the better of me. I want a boyfriend. I want you. I love you."

I feel like crying. "I love you too." And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mikael. I break down over the phone and I'm likely to break down even more if Mikael continues to sound so worried about me. He asks to come over so he can comfort me, but I tell him no. "I'm just going to go to bed," I tell him between sobs.

"Okay." His soothing voice sounds so comforting, so wonderful, and I can't imagine losing him just because of one stupid kiss. "You call later though, if you want. Or come over. I don't care if Jorgen sees us."

I don't think I'll ever stop crying. "I do." I can hear the puzzled pause on the other side, so I continue. "I love you too much to see you risk everything for me."

"I love you too much not to."

"I kissed Tommy." There's dead silence on the other side and I don't know whether he's about to punch the wall or rip the phone out of its jack. I look over and see that Tommy's gone. The light in the bathroom is on and I assume he left to give me privacy.

After what seems like an eternity, I finally hear Mikael's reaction. He's crying. I hold my breath, not knowing what to say. Why did I tell him? It was nothing-it was stupid and Tommy doesn't even like me. I was brash and...and I wasn't thinking and it was plain selfish to tell him. What good could come from me telling him? Nothing, that's what.

"I still love you," comes his shaky reply a beat later. "Goodnight, Mikael." I hear him hang up before I can reply. I'm half tempted to call him back, half tempted to run back to his room, but instead I hang up the phone as well.

The light in the bathroom flickers off and Tommy exits, handing me a roll of toilet paper. "There weren't any tissues."

Lying on the bed, in the semi-darkness lit only by the television, I stare at the roll. The unraveling to our relationship had begun and I could only hope--

"If you love him, then why did you kiss me?"

I was stupid? I wasn't thinking straight? You're cute? I wanted something simple? I wanted to see what life would be like without Mikael? I wanted to see if it was better? I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing out on anything? I used you? I wanted a boyfriend who wasn't jealous half the time?

It wasn't really a kiss because I don't love you?

I want to do it again?

"I'm sorry, I--"

He kisses me, interrupting me mid-sentence, but I don't care. Not that I was going to say anything intelligible anyway. The feel of his lips against mine, his rough hands on my face...

"I hope he's worth it," he whispers against my mouth. He walks over to his side of the room and slips into bed.

I want to kiss him again. Hell, I want to do more than kiss him. I want to run my hands over his chest, his arms, grind my hips into his... I want to be with him, I want--

I want a fuck buddy. I nearly laugh. Mikael was probably right. I probably was staring at him all week and drooling over him. Possibly longer considering how ecstatic I was when we became roommates. Tommy was hot. I thought Tommy was hot. I lusted over Tommy--wanted to fuck him, but I didn't love him. I barely knew him.

I don't want to wake up in his arms or listen to him complain about not getting enough ice time.

I don't love Tommy. I love Mikael. Something I thought I always knew, but was proven to me beyond a--

I cheated on Mikael for absolutely no good reason. (Is there ever a good reason?) I cheated on him because I felt like it and because I thought the guy was hot.

I was everything Mikael thought I would be, everything he'd fear I'd become. I was a naive twenty something year old. A stupid naive twenty something year old. What happens when you reach a crossroad in your life? On one side you can be in a relationship with possibly the love of your life (the other you can be the twenty-one year old single guy free to kiss whomever you choose). But how do you measure that love if this is the first real serious relationship you've ever been in? And what does it say about that love if you're ready to jump into bed with your roommate without any thought to the man you love?

Tough questions for any twenty-one year old.

I want to be nine again.

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