"Look away," I thought. "Just look away."
But he wouldn't. He sat there, staring. Charging headlong into an awkward conversation about everything that was hidden from the outside world; about subjects ranging from the quietly subtle to the obscene. This is what always intrigued me about him; he always got himself into such odd situations, yet never even gave a hint of discomfort. No complaints from him, ever. His ability to deftly manipulate the circumstance to fit his needs and feelings, no matter how awkward the circumstance got, was superb. As he sat there, staring like an idiot at what could have been the most beautiful thing ever seen by human eyes (or, as a matter of fact, other eyes), I secretly knew that he'd get out of this somehow. But this time it was too much for me to watch. The problem with this situation may not be immediately evident to an onlooker, for the problem was seemingly never there to begin with. For someone to understand the problem at hand, they would have to know him as well as I do, if not better. You see, even though I was his best friend, I never quite understood every nuance of his character, and was always far from knowing the complete, unabridged truth about, well, anything. My theory always was that he was protecting me from some deeper, unknown evil that was rooted in his darkest secrets, but now I think he either forgot to tell me, or just decided not to. In any case, this moment hung suspended in time for about a second or two, but it seemed like an eternity to me.