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You tremble under my hands and let out quiet gasps, collapsing next to me in your violet bed. The spark that once lit your eyes dulls, and your adorable grin softens and disappears completely. In the darkness of our dorm, I see you turn, turn away from me. I let out a sigh and shifted toward the bedside table, my mirrorphone clicking open with a din that was too loud for my over-sensitive body.
It was barely midnight.
I turn back, staring at your marred back, and a bubbling desire to hold you overtakes me. My hand stretches to you but retracts at the very last moment. It’s aggravating, but not because of you. An impulse to vomit crawled up my throat. Everything felt dirty. Filthy, foul and murky. I wonder if you feel used every time we do this. I wonder if you feel as disgusting as I do when I touch your body as if it belongs to me. I wonder if I hadn’t -If I had- held you, would you even care?
I bitterly laugh into my pillow; I really do ruin everything I touch.
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At first, I didn’t get why my brain was making me feel this way, but then it hit me full force. My teeth ground against each other, and my nerves took over as I tried to forget what had just happened. I run my fingers through my dark hair, my lips pursing in agitation. My heart ached thinking of you lying next to me. It’s selfish, I know, but a part of me wants you to hold me.
It’s stupid because we spent the last hour doing exactly that. We touched, prodded and hexperimented with each other. It’s what we’ve been doing for the past few months, yet my stupid brain wants you to caress me and tell me that everything will be alright and that you’ll be by my side forever.
I felt your gentle breath at the back of my neck for a second. Only for a second before I heard you shift away from me. I felt my throat close up, tears threatening to spill as I heard you laugh, almost cruelly.
If I could ask you to be with me, would you laugh in the same wicked way too?