nocturnalflames
He wades through the murky water, diving once more. Don’t panic, don’t worry, everything will be all right. He can’t see -there’s nothing to see- down below in the darkness between the inky tendrils of seaweed and the ghastly fish. He’s scared out of his damn mind and his lungs are screaming, but he can’t back out, can’t give up so soon. He’s so scared whatever pulled her under so suddenly is going to come for him.
But he has to wonder if it’s already too late.
She moans like a cheap corner whore, and in reality she doesn't feel far from it -not as she moves against him too eagerly, giving him what he wants. Except...this isn't what he wants, he doesn't want her, he's settling for her because he can't have what he really wants. She wants him so badly though, has loved him for so long, and after all this time the only thing she can get is a meaningless one night stand. She feels more worthless everyday...if only he would want her, then things would be good again. This is what she tells herself everyday, this is how she copes. Just like a cheap callgirl.
She is his escape. He goes to her only when he can't stand it anymore, when he's unraveling; something that's becoming frighteningly frequent. He seeks her out when life becomes unbareable, when his parents scream and his friends reject him, when he can never have the one he wants...when that one scoffs at him and averts his gaze. It's probably disgust, but he sometimes tricks himself into believing it's guilt.
She is his shame, his weakness, his dirty secret. He doesn't know what makes him feel worse: the shit he has to deal with, or the fact that she knows and says nothing -that maybe her life is shit too and she let's herself be the outlet instead of having her own; that he's too self-absorbed to ask.
He always forgets to bring an extra shirt when he sleeps over, because he knows the other will lend him one with out a thought. He doesn't always dodge when the other goes to catch him by surprise with the garden hose, knowing he'll lend him a shirt.
And when they're both suppost to be asleep, he'll pull the soft shirt close and breath deep, while the other's mouth is quirked with a secret smile.
She was left behind again. She hates how this always happens, hates how they think she can't be useful and is only good for looking pretty and being a supporting friend. And so she gets left at home while the other two are out saving the world. But most of all...they're out there growing closer, while she's left in the dust.
The server politely takes their orders, then slips him a guilty smile; as if knowing how much he doesn't want to be here right now. He doesn't acknowledge the look.
The server brings their food, and he notices his plate holds a little something extra. He chances a glance up and the waiter subtly rolls his eyes at the obnoxious behavior his date is currently displaying. He can't help but give a little smirk.
The server comes back to take their empty dishes, and leans across him real close to grab a glass, forcing them to lock eyes. He can't look away.
The server saunters over to collect the check, letting his fingers drift and brush against his own. He finds that his fingers linger as well.
His date leaves alone that night.
They are the same, looking so alike in both physical feature and mentalities; literally a part of one another. They share the same heart. But they have been divided; torn into two broken pieces, wishing only to become one again...to sooth that burning ache which lies in their chests; so identical. But they don't know how, and so they are left to long for each other in ways they cannot understand.
He pretends to listen to all the others, to be absorbed in whatever shallow thoughts they are rambling on about. But in all reality his glances steal to the stairs, half-hidden, that lead upwards into the darkness. They lead up to the hallway, that leads to the locked door. There's no way he could logically hear them, what with all the noise from the party, but somehow his brain supplies that he can. He can hear the whispered words and the labored breaths; he can hear the one he loves and also the one he hates.
The words leave those lips, and just like that his body goes numb. His mind is uncharacteristically blank and his world seems to tilt, collapsing, falling away into nothing. He couldn't...he couldn't just LEAVE! Not as if it didn't matter...not as if THEY didn't matter! The other promises to be back as soon as he can, but he's not listening anymore. Sure, he can promise all he likes, but it's not like even he knows when he'll come back. It's an open-ended promise....one that he's not sure if he can believe anymore.
He chuckled, watching as the other frowned and grumpily looked away, a light pink slowly dusting his cheeks. What a wonderful reaction, maybe he should repeat it more often.
Who knew that a simple kiss could affect one so.
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