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“WE. It’s nice to hear that again,” you tell me on a laugh, but I taste the bitterness of it in my mouth, and I know you don’t mean to hurt me, but I feel a sharp pain pierce through my heart. Suddenly I feel the need to tell you how sorry I am for all the hurt I have put you through. I do not deserve someone like you, but still I say, “Look, I will apologize for it for the rest of my life, but I am sorry. I am.”
I look at you and pray that all this love that I am helpless to turn off will find its way to you without requiring me to mutter a single word for I do not know how to translate this ardent devotion into something as mundane as words. I look at you with every ounce of feelings that are crammed in my useless being: trepidation, love, devotion, and a stark, stark fear that somehow you may never forgive me (something I do not blame you for because I will never forgive me too), and that it might have been too late; that you realize that you deserve so much more. I would not know how to live with myself. Because as I look at you, I realize that I am miserable without you. I try to purge my heart wordlessly, and quietly plead for you to take me, take me, take me…
“Stay,” with a trembling voice I tell you, daring myself to hope that somehow you might—
In a blur of motion, I see you move atop me and lower yourself gently; you snake your arms around my neck and I find myself pulling your face to mine, and then I am breathing you. God, I am breathing you, and all is well in the world.
I kiss you with all the longing I have saved for the time that we are apart, lips on lips, tongue on tongue, but still I could not get enough. A momentary gasp to catch our breath, and my fingers find the zipper of your pretty pink dress, and I pull it down, hoping that this is not a dream, that finally, finally this is happening.
I tear the dress off your shoulder and you shrug them off with ease (and a little chuckle), and suddenly a life completely outlandish flash before my eyes, and I see us in a runaway car going far away from this cursed place. I bury myself in the beautiful curve of your neck, sucking gently on the skin, inhaling your distinct smell— and I think, I could get used to this. A whole year passed flashed behind my closed eyes, and I hear you breathe heavy, and your sigh consists of endless dinners and languid night strolls in a faraway place.
I undo the clasp of your brassiere and reverently slip them off your arms, and I suck a breath as I stare at you. You are too fucking beautiful. I let my hands roam all over the expanse of your body, skin so soft and silky, and I bury myself between your chest, and I let loose. All of a sudden, a hunger I did not know I have in me finds its way to the fore and then I find myself kissing you all over, but still I need more.
“Wait, wait— Jughead, I need to tell you something,” I hear you say, and then I think, that’s it. You have your epiphany, and you will take off and leave me in this godforsaken place as you should. Still, I look up at you with mixed fear and plea, and then I see your lips curve into a smile and you say, “I want you. I want all of you tonight.”
A flood of relief courses through me, and my heart is alight with all my careless emotions. You rock your hips towards me and a couple of years passed and I watch you stand on a stage as you receive your graduation diploma, and I clutch my gift to you: a tiny bound book with my name on it, and dedication all for you.
Our clothes find their place on the floor, and then it is just us skin to skin, heated tongues meeting in between. You arch your body to me, and your moans send me in a whole new dimension, and I see you in a white dress walking down an altar, your eyes focused only on me. You stop rocking on top of me, and you say, “Juggie, I’m ready.” I hold your hips in place and I find your sacred place, and with a gentle and slow motion, I enter; and then you and I are one: mind, body, and soul.
Our motion starts slow until it gives way to something carnal and then again, in my closed eyes, I see us, older and wiser through the years with a love growing deeper, as I find myself thrusting deeper and deeper into you. You arch your body and you let out a scream of ecstasy and then I feel myself leave my body, and all I see is you and faraway galaxies and nothing else mattered.
This is what true bliss is like, and I am never letting anything come between us again. I feel you crash your weight onto me, and with a ragged breath you say, “Jughead, that was beautiful,” and I agree. I agree. Nothing could ever be more exquisite than that.
— FIN.