Re: Filled!~ 3/3
anonymous
December 6 2011, 11:48:37 UTC
What France is saying may be true, but to me, it is degrading and wrong. What I have with Matthew is different, and complex. I pull away even more before throwing myself blindly in the direction of the closet door, and France and I tumble out, me landing on top of him. I leap up the moment we stop moving and I run all the way home. When I lock the door, I realise that I am shaking, and I feel cold and lonely again. I fumble for my phone and call Matthew. When he picks up, I have already removed my neat jacket and I have found that bottle of particularly strong alcohol that Ivan gave me sometime last year. ‘Hey Alfred,’ he sounds like nothing happened earlier. There is the faint sound of a car in the background. I think he might be driving. ‘What’s up?’ I pull the cork out of the top of the bottle with my teeth and spit it out, resisting the urge to respond with a sarcastic ‘the ceiling’, instead opting to have a swig of the alcohol. I think it might be vodka. Well, no matter what it is, it tastes horrible, but my mind is already growing hazy. ‘Nyeah.’ I reply. ‘That bad, huh?’ Matthew chuckles. ‘Look, I’m nearly home, so I’ll come by, alright?’ I nod, feeling very immature, and, as if Matthew understands, he hangs up. I cannot remember when Matthew arrives. I was already too drunk. All I can remember is his warm hands gently levering the bottle from my numb fingers and then his arm around my waist, his hand in the small of my back as he guides me to my room and to my bed. He helps me undress and then ushers me under the doona. I feel too weak to argue with him when he kicks his shoes off and joins me. ‘Your shirt will get crumpled.’ I finally tell him, my only means of protest. ‘It’s already crumpled,’ he says with a smile as he removes my glasses, now my already fuzzy vision is worse. ‘It’s fine. I can use an iron.’ ‘Mattie,’ I begin, but I can’t think of what to say next. ‘Alfie,’ he replies in a slight mock voice of mine. ‘It’s alright.’ He hugs me close and I feel safe. ‘We’re together again.’ ‘It hurts.’ I whine. He lets me go, as if he thinks that he’s hugging me too tightly. I pat my chest, roughly where my heart is. ‘Right here, and I feel so empty.’ His hands, although they were warm against my own, are cold to my chest as he unbuttons my shirt and slips his hands inside, right over my heart. ‘I’ll kiss it better, eh?’ He bends his head down to nibble at my shoulder before scooting down to kiss my skin, right where his cold hand was. He then looks up at me, and I think that his eyes are slightly watery. ‘Matt…’ I tug on his shirt to pull him up so I can see him better. ‘I… about earlier…’ ‘It’s alright,’ he repeats, ‘don’t listen to them.’ He kisses my nose. ‘You don’t have to be gay or anything, I’ll still love you.’ I don’t feel so empty anymore, or alone. I nod slowly, and let him kiss me. Everything feels numb now, and I can’t feel his lips. I think the vodka was stronger than I thought. ‘I think I love you too Matthew.’ I tell him when he lets me go. At first, I think that this is the alcohol talking, but when I wake in the morning, naked and sore, and I see him lying there, only my blue sheets to preserve his modesty, he looks so beautiful, his glasses are askew, and the sun is softly glinting off his hair. I smile softly and shift closer to him because he makes me feel complete. Maybe Francis is right; it’s okay to be gay.
Filled by the ninja-writer faeire, Elishia-chan (Google me)
I pull away even more before throwing myself blindly in the direction of the closet door, and France and I tumble out, me landing on top of him.
I leap up the moment we stop moving and I run all the way home. When I lock the door, I realise that I am shaking, and I feel cold and lonely again. I fumble for my phone and call Matthew.
When he picks up, I have already removed my neat jacket and I have found that bottle of particularly strong alcohol that Ivan gave me sometime last year.
‘Hey Alfred,’ he sounds like nothing happened earlier. There is the faint sound of a car in the background. I think he might be driving. ‘What’s up?’
I pull the cork out of the top of the bottle with my teeth and spit it out, resisting the urge to respond with a sarcastic ‘the ceiling’, instead opting to have a swig of the alcohol. I think it might be vodka.
Well, no matter what it is, it tastes horrible, but my mind is already growing hazy. ‘Nyeah.’ I reply.
‘That bad, huh?’ Matthew chuckles. ‘Look, I’m nearly home, so I’ll come by, alright?’ I nod, feeling very immature, and, as if Matthew understands, he hangs up.
I cannot remember when Matthew arrives. I was already too drunk. All I can remember is his warm hands gently levering the bottle from my numb fingers and then his arm around my waist, his hand in the small of my back as he guides me to my room and to my bed.
He helps me undress and then ushers me under the doona. I feel too weak to argue with him when he kicks his shoes off and joins me.
‘Your shirt will get crumpled.’ I finally tell him, my only means of protest.
‘It’s already crumpled,’ he says with a smile as he removes my glasses, now my already fuzzy vision is worse. ‘It’s fine. I can use an iron.’
‘Mattie,’ I begin, but I can’t think of what to say next.
‘Alfie,’ he replies in a slight mock voice of mine. ‘It’s alright.’ He hugs me close and I feel safe. ‘We’re together again.’
‘It hurts.’ I whine. He lets me go, as if he thinks that he’s hugging me too tightly. I pat my chest, roughly where my heart is. ‘Right here, and I feel so empty.’
His hands, although they were warm against my own, are cold to my chest as he unbuttons my shirt and slips his hands inside, right over my heart. ‘I’ll kiss it better, eh?’ He bends his head down to nibble at my shoulder before scooting down to kiss my skin, right where his cold hand was. He then looks up at me, and I think that his eyes are slightly watery.
‘Matt…’ I tug on his shirt to pull him up so I can see him better. ‘I… about earlier…’
‘It’s alright,’ he repeats, ‘don’t listen to them.’ He kisses my nose. ‘You don’t have to be gay or anything, I’ll still love you.’
I don’t feel so empty anymore, or alone. I nod slowly, and let him kiss me. Everything feels numb now, and I can’t feel his lips. I think the vodka was stronger than I thought. ‘I think I love you too Matthew.’ I tell him when he lets me go. At first, I think that this is the alcohol talking, but when I wake in the morning, naked and sore, and I see him lying there, only my blue sheets to preserve his modesty, he looks so beautiful, his glasses are askew, and the sun is softly glinting off his hair. I smile softly and shift closer to him because he makes me feel complete.
Maybe Francis is right; it’s okay to be gay.
Filled by the ninja-writer faeire, Elishia-chan (Google me)
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