(Fixtion. from the documents of the 2009 year)
I disgust myself. He's my blind passion. My torture. We're on the couch in his room, watching Dawn of the Dead, and I can't stop watching him. He's so perfect. Fucking flawless, and he has no idea.
His Mom and Dad are gone for two weeks on vacation, and it's just us two. Together. Alone. Ugh. I'm sick. So fucking sick. All that I want is to kiss him, to hold him, to touch him. He's so affectionate--he always has been. But not how I want him to be. He's not sick like me. I don't think anyone is. I had a boyfriend, and that's wrong. It's a sin. I'm going to Hell. I don't know if I'd really mind going to Hell, but I do mind going there because I'm so close to him.
He is engrossed in the movie. I watch him mouth the words--we've watched it so many times that we both know every line. But I'm too busy watching him, wanting him, to care about the movie. All that I can think about is him. Him him him. And he's all that I want to think about.
I used to try to stop myself, to tell myself that it was just a phase, but years flew by, and suddenly I'm fucking nineteen, and I still want him. I've never been with a boy before. I know that I'm virgin, though; he knows, too. He helped me through it, told me it was OK. I think he had a great deal of girlfriends…yep.
He's everything to me.
Sometimes I hate him for it. For being so fucking perfect. For being my friend. Because girls aren't supposed to fuck other boys, much less when they`re already having a boyfriend for a long period of time. Again, I'm disgusting. But I've learned that fighting it does nothing--I'm sick in the head, and I can't fix it. Even He would think I'm sick.
I'm too lost in my thoughts to notice that he's turned to me, and is watching me intently. "What's up? You look worried," he says, concern in his voice.
YOU! I want to scream. YOU'RE WHAT'S WRONG! But instead I shake my head and shrug. "Nothing, just thinking."
He pauses the movie and turns to face me all the way. "Seriously, what's up? You've been weird lately."
Tears well in my eyes. I want to tell him so badly. I need him to know. He sees that I'm upset and pulls me into a hug. "Come on, what's wrong? You can tell me." He looks me in the eyes. “Is it smthing about your feelings?”
I sniffle and nod. He clucks sympathetically and pulls me into another tight embrace. I want to stay there, in his arms, forever. But he sees me as his friend perhaps. He's normal.
I take a deep breath. I have to tell him. "I have to tell you something," I say quietly, my voice trembling with unshed tears. "I, uh...I'm different."
He chuckles. "I am, too. You don't have to worry about that."
I shake my head. "No, I mean I'm really different. I have some problems. Or a problem." He looks confused. Fuck, this is going to be hard. I take another deep breath and begin to speak quickly. "I'm really sorry, and I understand if you hate me, but I can't help it, and I know it's wrong and disgusting, and I'd hate me, too, but I have to tell you, and I've been holding it in for so long, and..."
"Shh." He puts a finger to my lips, and I fall silent. "Now tell me slowly."
I close my eyes and exhale deeply. "I love you. No, I'm in love with you."
Silence. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I knew it was a bad idea. I fucking knew it. I open my eyes slowly, trying to prepare myself for the horrified look on his beautiful face. But instead, I hear laughter. My eyes fly open. Shit, he thinks I'm kidding. Maybe it's better this way? I open my mouth to tell him that I don't feel well, so that I can go into my room and cry when he catches me off guard: "You're not a freak."
WHAT?! I look at him, shocked. "Wh-what?"
"You're not weird. I...uh...I'm in love with you too.”
I stare at him, trying to register what he's telling me. He loves me? Suddenly, my mind is whirling and the biggest grin has spread across my face. "You-you do?"
He nods, and a blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks. He leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. "I love you so much."
And before either of us can second-guess ourselves, our mouths meet, opening and moving together. He licks my bottom lip, and I tangle my fingers in his hair. He pulls his lips away from my lips and leaves a trail of hot kisses down across my jawline and down my neck, where he sucks and bites gently.
And suddenly, he bites down hard, and I can feel blood flowly from my neck. I let out a loud cry--it feels so amazing, his lips and his teeth and my own blood all mingling to form an amazing sensation in my head.
He pulls away. "I'm sorry!" he says, looking guilty. "I'm being to rough, I shouldn't have. I'm...sorry..." He trails off as I place soft kises on his own pale neck. He groans and throws his head back, giving me full access to his skin. I lick the side of his neck before biting gently. I apply a bit more pressure, but I am afraid to hurt him.
He and pulls me into a fiery kiss. And then we are unbuttoning each other's shirts, unzipping our jeans, sliding out of our boxers. He looks amazing there, like some sort of god. I look up at him tentatively, feeling self conscious--he is so gorgeous, so perfect, and I am so...not. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling disgusting again.
He kisses me genlty again and unfolds my arms. "You're so beautiful," he murmers, places the softest of kisses on my chest. I have never had this done before, but I know what it is that he's about to do. I bit my lip to stifle a moan as he kisses me.
Fuck. It looks so weird…I`ve never meant to.. "I love you," he whispers, and places a gentle kiss on my lips
I kiss him back, and he responds for a moment before pulling away.
It's my turn to place a finger to his lips. "I trust you."
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
He seems as nervous as I am. I nod in agreement. "Just do it."
And he does. I draw in my breath sharply. It burns and I feel like my skin is tearing. He leans down near my ear. "I'm sorry" he whispers. Tears leak from my eyes, despite how I am willing them back.
After a few minutes of lying there in silence, I'm still not used to the feeling, but I'm eager to continue. I look at him and nod. "You're--"
I smile. "I'm sure."
He begins to move slowly, and all of my inhibitions and fears are lost; the feeling is beyond amazing. "You OK?"
I somehow manage to nod and choke out a strangled, "Yes." But the truth is, I'm more than OK--I'm perfect. I'm complete. The TV casts an eerie blue glow on his face as we make love. He looks at me through hooded eyes, his dark lashes casting long shadows across his face. He is beautiful.
I bite my lip to suppress a moan. His lips are next to my ear again.
I throw my head back and from there, everything escalates.
He kisses my lips, and I catch his full bottom lip between my teeth and bite hard. He lets out a shriek. His I want nothing more than to just let go, but he is looking at me, watching me. "Hold on," he groans. I nod slavishly and manage to find some sort of rhythym. The sensation is fantastic.
He has always been able to make my name sound more elegant, more beautiful, and this time is no different.
I whisper an "I love you" into his ear before we fall asleep, still wrapped up in each other's arms. We will let tomorrow be awkward. Tomorrow we will worry. Tomorrow we will face the problems and the controversies. But tonight, we will be together and be in love.
Kotein
