Twisting the knife
He wanted to touch Dean with a passion that he had never known, but he knew that his touches were no longer welcome now that his secret had been revealed. Now that Dean knew that he was in love with him the closeness that he had once reveled in was now a distant dream. He had known that Dean would never love him back the way he wanted him to, but he never would have told Dean if he had known that this would be the result. The silence was no longer comfortable, but was torture instead with an awkwardness that couldn’t seem to be filled. When they sat next to each other the inches that had once seemed unimportant now seemed to have become a chasm that kept expanding and there was nothing that he could do to stop it. He would do anything for Dean, but now he had to wonder if every act was going to be looked upon with suspicion, that it seemed as if he had an ulterior motive. He had to laugh at himself for the pure absurdity of the situation; he was lying to himself, but telling the truth to Dean. He had been lying by omission to Dean about his feelings for years, but he had to wonder if Dean had known all along. The way Dean had let him down had been gentle but that had hurt worse than if Dean had been angry or indignant. What hurt even worse was that he would still always love Dean, there was no other for him. He would still jump if Dean would just say how high, if Dean would ask him to bend to his will he would until he broke. What made him love Dean even more though was that Dean would never ask these things of him, that if anything Dean would try and stop him. He had to wonder if all the things he did for Dean now were even noticed as acts of love or if Dean was just used to his behavior, it made the permanent knife in his heart twist just a little more.