by Trisky
In this place.
It's a beautiful place sometimes, all gilded corners and iridescent specks of light. But when it's empty and your voice echoes back at your ears, unheard by anyone but you, it's like nothing you've ever felt before. Totally alone.
And it fucking sucks to be all alone in this place.
I don't want to want to forgive him. I don't want to want him. I don't want him to have any kind of valid point about anything at the moment. I don't want him to have any kind of power over me. I don't want to do any of this anymore.
I just want it to not be that difficult every once in a while.
I want to know that he'd never let me get further than the door, locks or no locks, I don't care.
What I really want is to find a new way to do all of this.
"I can't stay." I could, but tonight, I really can't.
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, his body remains still, the rest of his face remains as it was. I know that's all I'm ever going to get. No running after me, no begging me, no punched in the gut doubled over in pain reactions. Nobody preventing me from walking out the door. Possibly nobody even caring if I did. Not a single word. Nothing but a twitch. Sometimes I think I may as well just be here alone, because it hurts more when he's physically here with me. I can just pretend the rest of the time.
"I take it you've made your choice then. To go?" His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug that would look like disbelief, if I didn't know better. If he were anyone but who he is. "Well, I can't say I blame you. You lasted a lot longer than I would have." He digs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I want to hug him. I don't want to want to do that. But I want to do it anyway.
"Is that the great Brian Kinney admitting some kind of defeat?" I want him to know just how much it sucks.
"It wasn't a competition." He blinks languidly and reopens his eyes to half mast, as if they may be burning under his lids.
"What was it?" I want an answer. It doesn't have to be the right answer. It doesn't even have to be a good answer. I just want him to open his mouth and answer. Please let him answer.
"I don't know. But whatever it was... it was real." He nods a defeated acknowledgment. "Really fucked up most of the time more than anything," he sort of laughs and I sort of laugh with him, "but it was honest. It happened. I was always there, even when you thought I wasn't. You didn't imagine it."
Good answer.
"Christ, you're such a drama queen," I smile widely, hoping the light shimmers off my teeth and blinds him.
"What?" His eyes open immediately.
"I just said I couldn't stay," I roll my eyes sharply and I try not to laugh or tackle him. "I never said I was going. It's not my fault you heard what you wanted to hear."
"What the fuck does that mean?" He looks confused and perturbed. I might not get a choice if he jumps on top of me first. Which from the looks of his stance, seems far more likely.
"I have plans tonight. I can't stay. I told that guy Russell that I'd go see some photography series with him."
I walk around him with as much confidence as my shaky knees allow, my head held high and my ass not far below. I look back over my shoulder at the frozen look of blood thirsty revenge on his face and I do laugh, just because I know he doesn't want me to.
"You little...."
"Twat, yeah yeah I know. Thanks. Love you too." I rest my confident ass on the stairs leading to the bedroom, and lean my elbows on the floor behind me, stretched all over his space. "Kinda sucks to be you right now, huh?"
He walks towards me, or rather, he stomps towards me with heavy bare feet. "You did that on purpose!"
"You deserved it." I consider sticking my tongue out, but that would just be too immature, no matter how satisfying it would feel. "Now you know what it's like to have a conversation with you," I smirk, satisfied with myself.
"And you deserve my foot up your ass, does that mean I get to give it to you?"
He stands on the bottom step, looming over my outstretched body, trying to intimidate me. "Not without socks on, your feet are filthy. You always walk around without socks. That's really unhealthy you know. Who knows what kind of germs you pick up."
He waves his right foot over my mouth and I gag. He's so gross. "Want to lick it and find out?" I move my head away from his very long toes. Very... very long toes. He moves it away and sticks it in my crotch instead, threatening to add pressure if I keep speaking.
"I let you off easy! I let you get away with way too much as is." I do and he knows it and the big toe digging into my zipper tells me so.
"Oh I have a sneaking suspicion I'll be paying for quite some time."
"As you should... Leave me to deal with my grandmother for a fucking week," I mumble to myself, and feel him leverage more weight on his foot, "while you run around and fuck everything in sight, in paradise, with Michael." It comes out a little more surly than I intended and I don't care.
"So which part are you more jealous about?" His foot travels to my belly button and whatever vein connects from that to my groin is on fucking fire.
"Every last part..." Every last fucking part. So jealous I could grab his foot, flip him on his ass onto the floor and kick him while he's down.
"Don't be," he toes at my shirt to get my attention, "about Mikey." He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth and I consider it. It's more than a twitch. It's more than I ever expected. It's something isn't it? He finally stops playing with my stomach and moves his foot to box me in between his legs, here on his stairs that I've taken complete ownership of. He looks about 10 feet tall from this position, and the crotch right in my line of vision looks ten times larger than normal.
"I don't give a shit about Mikey. I give a shit that you give more of a shit about him than you do about me." Not even a twitch. Right, no answer, as I expected. Because he only hears what he wants to hear, no matter what I'm saying.
"I said, don't be," he reiterates. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe if he wasn't hovering over me like some imposing statue I'd argue the point. But he's already left that far behind, there will be no further discussion. Until next time. Which I'm sure there will be because Brian choosing Mikey is about as inevitable as the sun rising and setting. I'll just keep talking until he hears me. I guess I don't let him get away with much. I'm just getting better at biding my time. "Besides you don't see me getting jealous that you picked Grandma over me," he mocks the concept with his saccharine voice.
"She pays better than you do. After all, I do have standards to maintain."
He laughs for the first time. "What does that mean? She had to bribe you to come visit her?"
"No, she just did what they do in the country club set, threw money at the problem."
"Maybe I took the wrong trip after all," he crouches down to a more human level and I hope he doesn't fall and crack my sternum in half.
"She said she was sick of seeing me so miserable. So she forked over some cash, called it 'mad money', said her father used to give it to her when he wanted her out of his hair. Go mad with it. Go burn it. Go kiss it. Just go away and take the long face with you."
"How much was the pay off?"
"1500. I think the guilt from not being around last year worked in my favor."
"What are you going to do with it?"
I haven't really thought about it. I was too busy trying not to fall apart at the seams. "I heard there was this really nice resort in Puerto Vallarta..."
"Don't be a smart ass," he flicks my forehead with the snap of his fingers. "I could use a new suit," he grins.
"You could use a gift certificate to a board certified psychotherapist."
"Which would make you the more certifiable one, for knowing that and putting up with me anyway." He always has to have the last word. I hate that. His smile glimmers and fills the air around us with just a hint of the iridescent streaks that are allowed to reside here every now and then.
"Could you move your ass, so I can leave?" I don't want to go.
"You don't really want to go." It's official, we need to keep at least five feet of distance between us at all times so that I can have a moment's worth of privacy in my own head. The closer he is the clearer the message.
"I promised Russell. I can't break my promise." I don't want to go, but now I have to, just out of principle.
"I'm sure you have some time. He's got 6 feet of hair he has to comb out first." He crowds his face about three inches away from mine, finally relenting and resting his knees on the second stair and officially pinning me to the floor.
"Why are you so obsessed with his body hair?" I can't help it, I snicker. It really is kind of disgusting to think about.
"You're worried about the germs on my feet. I'm worried about whatever's nesting in his hair." He kisses me just below my bottom lip and pulls back as my lip juts out instinctively for more. Fucker. "Did you really look at him? Because I did and he could probably build a hut with that shit for one of those starving orphans they advertise on TV."
"Only you would think of that as advertising. Besides, if he's got something crawling around in there, it's not like I'm ever gonna get close enough to find out what it is." I lean up and lick his bottom lip for being such a tease.
"Sure about that?"
"Don't be... about Russell." He grabs both sides of my face and lavishes my mouth with the perfect perfectness of his own. That's what I miss the most when I don't have it, his mouth. When I get it back, I never want to let it go. He tries to pull his head back but I keep him attached by sucking on his tongue and his hands trail down the front of my t-shirt. My head is swirling. I don't want to give in this easily, but I don't want to stop. "I guess I have a little while before I have to go." And I will go, just not right this minute.
"Good," he murmurs.
"What do you want?" I know what I want and it's perfectly unselfish because that's just the kind of guy I am and because there's something I miss almost as much when it's not in my mouth. But I'm willing to negotiate. I wasn't very nice before, not that he didn't deserve it, but he gave me what I wanted, he should get something in return.
"My cock in your mouth." Too fucking close. I refuse to think around him anymore.
"Stand up," I command and he does as told, looking like one massive groin. I sit up and yank the zipper of his jeans down. No underwear. What else is new?
His eyes glaze with the sureness of his own hunger and I feed the emptiness that's been there too long.