I had the feeling in the pit of my stomach. Nothing was going the way I anticipated, yet, it was exactly what I signed up for.
Sweat dripped off my forehead and my body was making noises I didn't recognize.
I tried to think straight, but the rational part of my mind was sinking, sinking away to the darkest depths of my mind. My eyes were wide open and I could see myself sinking deeper, drowning. I didn't know what to do but when I reached out for help, it was too late.
I knew I should have listened to my verbal protests, but what was I to do? I loved him. I didn't want to lose him so I did the only thing I knew I could do, I went along with it. It made him happy, or so I thought.
I was damp, moist. Something was rolling off my chin – it was my tears. I don't think he noticed, but I prayed he would. I prayed he would notice me.
I don't think I was even in my body physically. It was as if I was narrating my experience outside of my body in the third person. I looked down, from above I think, and saw the fair flesh that is mine.
I – no, this person – was reaching out. This person's eyes screamed pain, but their body language urged for more. Some say that the eyes are the window to a person's soul; I'd like to think of them as a shortcut to the truth.
This person screamed, but I don't think he heard. I don't think he really did ever hear this person despite what he said. Have you heard the riddle if a tree falls down and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? For that matter, does a person feel pain, torment if there is no one to cause it?
I like to think so. Pain is real, although only temporary. It will pass, but this experience will not. Have you felt anything more painful than the feeling of your heart breaking? A band aid couldn't fix this wound.
This person was moving swiftly, hoping this could be over with quickly. His movements were all but elegant. This person seemed to be subconscious about their actions as they furrowed their eyebrows in concentration.
He had once told me I was beautiful. He told me I could reach new heights. He whispered lies into my ears each day.
As this person remembered every lie he had ever spoken to them, this person thrust harder and harder causing this person's wrong partner beneath this person to cry out louder.
He used to reassure me with warming hugs I cherished. He used to pat my back along side my accomplishments. He used to care. But what I realized, he never really did.
I cared, though. I cared about him. I cared that he cared. But he doesn't, and I still do and I could feel the thump of my heart as it hit rock bottom.
This person hit rock bottom. Where else can he go? Certainly not up. Up was where he was. And as much as this person wanted to rip apart from this meaningless experience and go find him, he also didn't want a different being to suffer from this person's depression.
I was still sinking when this person climaxed, but now I could see the bottom. I could see the hard, cold bottom that is reality. When I would fall and smack against the bottom, I knew the answer was soon.
This person pulled away from their 'buddy' and quickly rolled over on their side as I approached 'the bottom'. But for some reason, I hovered right before the bottom and I could feel my fingertips brush against, what I thought would be solid hardness instead being cool liquid. Ripples appeared and I wondered what that could mean. What could any of this mean?
Why did he set me up with this woman I hardly knew while he went off somewhere else? Why did he pretend to care when I truly did? What was I not understanding?
This person abruptly sat up, grabbed their boxers off the ground and put them on. This person, - no I – needed to see him now.
I was racing down the stairs now as my fingers traced the visible water.
Maybe he did those things because he wanted to see me happy. Maybe he assumed these things would fill me with content in my heart instead of breaking it. Maybe he really did care.
Or maybe he just didn't know I did.
I found him sitting in the living room, head in his hands. His dark hair shadowed his face and I knew he couldn't see me, the sweaty mess I am. But he heard me. He lifted his head and looked straight at me and I saw, for the first time, the pain in his eyes. And then I saw the hope.
I took quick, long stretches to reach him and I kneeled to his eye level. I hoped he could read my eyes. I hoped he could see the truth in them.
I grabbed the back of his head softly and pulled him into a soft kiss. My heart fluttered upwards, repairing itself at once when I felt his own arms wrap around my nearly-naked torso and bare chest.
And then I broke through that liquid bottom, resurfacing from the desperation I was in and the doubt I had before, when I felt his lips reacting passionately against mine.
And then I realized that I wasn't drowning in the trenches of my mind; I was just breaking through the surface that is love.
I love him
& he finally knows.
But the best part is – he felt the same way.
The End.
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Eh, sort of a story/journal/epiphany. Ignore it if you wish, I just had to get it out somehow. And yesh, this was a slash-ish type thing.
