Welcome! I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to participate now. I was the same way—took about a year for me to finally start posting.

I read what you wrote about your female best friend. That really sucks. I don’t know if I have any advice to give. It sounds like there’s nothing you can really do, since she’s so far away. Maybe you can tell her about your dacryphilia, but that is definitely a difficult thing to do. Or maybe you can just say that you wish you were there to comfort her / help her through this emotional time.

Anyway, I wish you the best of luck!

[I'm not sure if I'm going to write this chapter from Kylie's POV, just because I don't think it would bring anything new to the table. I'll leave this one up to you guys--if you want this chapter from her perspective, let me know.]

Kylie lowers her gaze, suddenly bashful. "Is that--are you--was that... Okay? Was that okay?" She peeks at my face, watching my reaction.

"Um," I say. Was that okay? I mean, it was okay for me, but was it okay for her? "Yeah." I give Kylie a tiny smile, silently praying that she'll reciprocate. She sighs in relief and returns the smile.

We stand there for a few seconds, smiling and nodding like idiots. Gosh, this is awkward.

Kylie holds out her arms. "Want a hug?" She asks.

"Sure." I hold out my own arms and hug her.

Once we part ways, Kylie walks over to the couch, sinks down into it, and leans her head back. I give her a questioning look, but I sit down beside her.

"I need to sit down after that. The kiss, I mean." Kylie blushes deeply.

I resist the urge to brush her flaming cheek with my hand, opting to nod instead. "Me, too." I keep my gaze locked on Kylie. She glances at me, but looks away quickly. I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking her if something's wrong. Obviously, something's wrong... with me. I just cried in front of a girl--like, crying so hard that it could almost be considered sobbing. And right after that happened, I kissed her. What kind of guy does that?

"Do you want to talk more about the job?" Kylie asks quietly, interrupting my thoughts. She finally looks me in the eyes.

I shake my head. "Not really." Talking about it may cause me to cry some more, and I think I've already exceeded my humiliation tolerance for the day. And, like almost every other guy I know, talking about feelings isn't my specialty.

Again--awkward silence.

"So," Kylie says, drawing out the word. "Are we going to watch the Peanuts Christmas Special?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Right," I say, remembering the original purpose of Ky

[This is the last chapter from Kylie's POV.]

The apartment door swings open with ease, and before I can even think about how odd it is that Connor hasn't locked me out, I'm standing in his apartment. Connor's standing in the middle of the living room, a shocked expression plastered on his face. Unsure of what else to do, I close the door behind me and look at him. He's wearing baggy, dark gray sweatpants and a BYU wrestling hoodie. His eyes are glistening, and his wavy brown hair is sticking up--as if he's been running his hands through it. He looks like...

"Have you been crying?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I try to cover up my shock--Connor crying is like the end of the world.

Connor blushes bright red. "Uhh, no." He shakes his head. "I mean, yes. Maybe. I hadn't cried in, like, ten years, but... life, you know? It just catches up with--"

While he's stumbling over his words, my impatience wins out. I rush over to him and give him a bear hug, nearly lifting him off the ground with my momentum. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. I rub his back in circles, trying to speak comfort through them.

Connor doesn't hug me back.

"Come on, Connor. Hug me back," I plead with him, wishing he could feel comfortable enough with me to allow his emotions to take over.

Woodenly, he lifts his arms and hugs me.

"Good. That's good," I whisper, not knowing what else to say. "Now, can you tell me what's wrong?" I wince at how patronizing I sound.

Connor exhales. "I got let go." His voice breaks on the last word, and he clears his throat. He clears his throat again, and a small gasp escapes him.

I don't know what to say to that. I wish there were some magical words I could speak to make everything okay, but they don't exist. "You can cry," I say softly, hoping those words will be enough.

Within a few seconds, Connor's torso begins shaking, and I feel a wetness on my shoulder. Tears. Based on the intensity of the shaking, I can tell that Co

She's wearing black leggings, an oversized, navy blue sweater, Christmas socks, and black Vans. Her long, auburn hair is pulled up in a ponytail. Some might say that she looks like she rolled out of bed and threw on random clothes from her closet, but she looks breathtaking to me. It's almost enough to make me forget the fact that I was crying. Almost.

She gives me the once-over, eyebrows raised. I must look like absolute crap--as soon as I got home from my Politics class, I changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. Plus, there's my face and that whole situation.

"Have you been crying?" She finally asks, trying to mask her shock and failing.

The direct question catches me off guard. "Uhh, no," I say. I cringe at how unconvincing I sound. Also--did I just lie to Kylie? "I mean, yes. Maybe. I hadn't cried in, like, ten years, but... life, you know? It just catches up with--"

I would say more, but Kylie walks up to me. Before I can ask what she's doing, she wraps me up in a bear hug. I try to pull away, but she won't let me.

Kylie doesn't say anything-- just rubs my back in slow circles. I keep my arms dangling by my sides, afraid of what would happen if I accepted her hug. As it is, it feels like something is loose in my chest, and is knocking around inside my ribcage. I get the feeling that if I move an inch in the wrong direction, I'll dissolve into tears again.

That cannot happen.

"Come on, Connor. Hug me back, please," Kylie pleads.

Despite the pinball in my chest, I slowly raise my arms and hug Kylie.

"Good," she whispers. "That's good. Now, can you tell me what's wrong?"

I carefully release the breath I didn't know I was holding. "I got let go." My voice shakes on the last word, and I clear my throat to get rid of the tight knot in my throat. The knot only grows larger. I clear my throat again, but a sort of squeak/gasp excapes me. Hot tears form in my eyes. I try to blink them back. The pinball knocks around even faster, and I feel myself reaching an sor

Yeah, it was really fast, lol.

Thanks!