Endlessly -3-
His reaction to my comment left me wondering. Had he been secretly touching me as I slept? Or spying on me as I dressed and bathed? I began to feel slightly queasy. Evil thoughts ran through my head, so quickly they blurred. My head span and the thoughts blurred further. Suddenly, I was overcome by an urge to see him. I needed to have my doubts cleared; I didn't have the mind to concentrate on anything else.
As I walked out of my bedroom, I heard a series of soft sounds coming from Matthew's room. I felt something-a pain-in my chest that told me to stop and at the same time to go on further. They became louder, but even so, they were still soft. As I stood before the door, it was apparent that they were moans. My face blushed red as I turned the knob.
He froze. His eyes were dead set on mine and in a matter of seconds, I saw how his tears began to well up in his eyes. He buried himself in the sheet that covered his nude body, trying to make himself smaller.
Instead of anger, I was overcome by a deep sense of pity and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. As I approached him, he cringed and began to shiver. I wrapped my amrs around the little ball he had become and pressed my face against the part that covered the top of his head. A sharp whimper came almost immediately. I began to uncover him, first with much resistance and then with none at all.
"I'm sorry. Please don't kick me out, it's just that you told me to stay away from you and I need you so much, it was the only way I could let it out-"
"Shhh. It's fine, I guess. . .I guess I believe you now."
I smiled at him and his eyes began to glow once more. He turned towards me, with his arms outstretched and then stopped himself.
"I know you don't want me near you, but can I hug you. . .just this once?"
I nodded and he wrapped his arms gently around me. His beautiful, soft, rose-scented skin burned into mine one more. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and a need to hold him closer.
But I released him. I was still too confused.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Later that night, I sat in my desk reviewing page after page of unpublished material. I was a writer; it wasn't a particularly bad job, and it had its good moments, but it wasn't what I wanted. Many a night I sat, with the lamp light blidning me, pen in hand, and asked myself, "What are you doing?" Then I'd shake my head and rub my eyes, as if that would make it go away but really it just made it worse because it became more apparent that it wasn't any good.
Those stories I wrote, I could have written them much quicker. More than half the time I spent doing the aforementioned. It was an incredible waste of time.
But now that I had Matthew and his words were repeating in my head, I was experiencing a blockage of ideas. I kept picking up the pen but my hand refused to move. At that point I understood that something had to be done, but I didn't know what.
I grabbed my coat and ventured outside. It was raining, but I didn't bother to bring an umbrella. Perhaps the cold of the rain will cool my head, I thought. I passed by a shop selling flowers and remembered the scent of Matthew's skin. A chill traveled down my spine. The steel blue roof of the shop leaked its droplets over my head. My reflection appeared over the window. It read, "lost."
Panting and splashing awoke me. My head reluctantly turned to the right. The face, I'd seen before, but it wasn't registering. But as he got closer, I smelled roses. Roses. Roses. Matthew.
I waited for him to come closer. Except. . .except he never made it. His foot slipped and he crashed into the shop window. The rose scent grew larger, but it didn't rouse me. A woman ran out of the store, crying hysterically. Someone call an ambulance. Help. He's bleeding. Help. A shard of glass is in him.
A drop of scarlet blood fell and melted into a nearby pool. The rose scent intensified.
"M-Bells, can you speak?"
He managed to turn his head to look at me, struggling to open his eyes.
"I think I can."
I began to pull him off the frame of the window as he stood with his body bent inside the store. An ambulance faded in. Matthew pretended to seem less hurt than he was. I believed him.
"Let's go before the ambulance gets here. I don't want them to take me."
I wrapped my arm across his back and underneath his own as we walked back home. The umbrella he had brought me had opened upon his fall and was carried away by a gust of wind.
When we got home, he sat down in a chair and looked out the window. I had thought about such a thing before, but now that this had happened, I felt it necessary to voice it.
"Maybe, maybe it would be best if you were elsewhere. . ."
I waited for him to react. He kept loooking out the window.
"I know you said you were cursed, but as it is now, your physical suffering is equal to anything you would feel emotionally. You've been here only a week and already we've had two incidents. I don't know if I can really help you anyway. . ."
He turned to look at me. His eyes were dark and grey and tired.
"You're right. Just give me a day to pack my things."
The easiness of his acceptance was shocking. And though this is what I thought I'd wanted, I couldn't help feeling that I wasn't making the right decision.
And in that last thought I was unmistakably correct.
As I walked out of my bedroom, I heard a series of soft sounds coming from Matthew's room. I felt something-a pain-in my chest that told me to stop and at the same time to go on further. They became louder, but even so, they were still soft. As I stood before the door, it was apparent that they were moans. My face blushed red as I turned the knob.
He froze. His eyes were dead set on mine and in a matter of seconds, I saw how his tears began to well up in his eyes. He buried himself in the sheet that covered his nude body, trying to make himself smaller.
Instead of anger, I was overcome by a deep sense of pity and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. As I approached him, he cringed and began to shiver. I wrapped my amrs around the little ball he had become and pressed my face against the part that covered the top of his head. A sharp whimper came almost immediately. I began to uncover him, first with much resistance and then with none at all.
"I'm sorry. Please don't kick me out, it's just that you told me to stay away from you and I need you so much, it was the only way I could let it out-"
"Shhh. It's fine, I guess. . .I guess I believe you now."
I smiled at him and his eyes began to glow once more. He turned towards me, with his arms outstretched and then stopped himself.
"I know you don't want me near you, but can I hug you. . .just this once?"
I nodded and he wrapped his arms gently around me. His beautiful, soft, rose-scented skin burned into mine one more. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and a need to hold him closer.
But I released him. I was still too confused.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Later that night, I sat in my desk reviewing page after page of unpublished material. I was a writer; it wasn't a particularly bad job, and it had its good moments, but it wasn't what I wanted. Many a night I sat, with the lamp light blidning me, pen in hand, and asked myself, "What are you doing?" Then I'd shake my head and rub my eyes, as if that would make it go away but really it just made it worse because it became more apparent that it wasn't any good.
Those stories I wrote, I could have written them much quicker. More than half the time I spent doing the aforementioned. It was an incredible waste of time.
But now that I had Matthew and his words were repeating in my head, I was experiencing a blockage of ideas. I kept picking up the pen but my hand refused to move. At that point I understood that something had to be done, but I didn't know what.
I grabbed my coat and ventured outside. It was raining, but I didn't bother to bring an umbrella. Perhaps the cold of the rain will cool my head, I thought. I passed by a shop selling flowers and remembered the scent of Matthew's skin. A chill traveled down my spine. The steel blue roof of the shop leaked its droplets over my head. My reflection appeared over the window. It read, "lost."
Panting and splashing awoke me. My head reluctantly turned to the right. The face, I'd seen before, but it wasn't registering. But as he got closer, I smelled roses. Roses. Roses. Matthew.
I waited for him to come closer. Except. . .except he never made it. His foot slipped and he crashed into the shop window. The rose scent grew larger, but it didn't rouse me. A woman ran out of the store, crying hysterically. Someone call an ambulance. Help. He's bleeding. Help. A shard of glass is in him.
A drop of scarlet blood fell and melted into a nearby pool. The rose scent intensified.
"M-Bells, can you speak?"
He managed to turn his head to look at me, struggling to open his eyes.
"I think I can."
I began to pull him off the frame of the window as he stood with his body bent inside the store. An ambulance faded in. Matthew pretended to seem less hurt than he was. I believed him.
"Let's go before the ambulance gets here. I don't want them to take me."
I wrapped my arm across his back and underneath his own as we walked back home. The umbrella he had brought me had opened upon his fall and was carried away by a gust of wind.
When we got home, he sat down in a chair and looked out the window. I had thought about such a thing before, but now that this had happened, I felt it necessary to voice it.
"Maybe, maybe it would be best if you were elsewhere. . ."
I waited for him to react. He kept loooking out the window.
"I know you said you were cursed, but as it is now, your physical suffering is equal to anything you would feel emotionally. You've been here only a week and already we've had two incidents. I don't know if I can really help you anyway. . ."
He turned to look at me. His eyes were dark and grey and tired.
"You're right. Just give me a day to pack my things."
The easiness of his acceptance was shocking. And though this is what I thought I'd wanted, I couldn't help feeling that I wasn't making the right decision.
And in that last thought I was unmistakably correct.