Philia
On the Prowl
We were in my room.
This unfamiliar place that deviated from the room I’ve grown accustomed to ever since the newly installed laminate floors and desert red suede walls added a bit of character to it. Nevertheless, it was definitely my room. It was rather small in dimension. The walls were a rather plain white dimly illuminated by a florescent glow. There were two beds stationed in the room: one on the north wall, one on the west wall.
He sat there opposite of me.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him last yet all the features that I love about him still remained. A bit of stubble here and there traced the outline of his jaw. A white undershirt that gave him such a pristine appearance set his pale skin ablaze with various hues of pink and red. Such soft hands he had with nails tattered from habitual biting. His hair was free from any substance as he had just taken a shower. How I loved how it naturally fell on his face. I pleaded with him for a time of how much I absolutely adored it unscathed by the harsh and definite hand of gels. Alas, these pleas would go unheeded. Change is certainly difficult for some and he was no exception. Though it was what made him him: the man I fell for.
That was a long time ago. Yet as I sat there staring in his direction, I couldn’t help but feel the vulnerability I felt so many months ago. It was almost a year in fact since I last saw him. Since I last held him in my arms and despite him being within arms length, I felt further from him than when an AIM client was our only means of communication. Insecurities swept over me and instantaneously I was caught in the updraft of insidious youth.
Just then he extended his hand out towards me. This confused me a bit and left me with a sense of unease. After all he was the one who lost interest in me. Fear began to grasp my lungs as he moved in closer. He placed his hand behind my neck. I could feel the heat pulsating through his fingers awakening my skin to his touch. His eyes burned through to my soul and I was completely helpless to avoid this breech in fortitude. But the urge to sustain my heart was unwavering. It was difficult to extinguish the desire I had cultivated throughout our courtship but I had prevailed though not wholeheartedly. I became content along this road to regaining my sanity with this familiar acquaintance called Solitude. And in an instant the stronghold tapestries began to unravel.
Tension started to build up in my arms as I began to push him away. I couldn’t go back. I had spent so much time securing these walls that vulnerability wasn’t an option. As I tried to escape his grasp he took hold of my arm and I stumbled and fell back taking him with me. I could feel his breath blanketing my face. I struggled to regain my bearings, pushing against his chest. “No…” I began to cry. “Not again… I don’t want to have to lose you again.” He grabbed my wrists and held them firmly against the floor above my head. Quietly looking into my eyes, he kissed my lips.
I remember enjoying feeling the warmth of his hand as it draped across my shoulder as our bodies connected underneath the sheets. A luxury I hadn’t had the pleasure of indulging in. I wanted to stay asleep forever.
This unfamiliar place that deviated from the room I’ve grown accustomed to ever since the newly installed laminate floors and desert red suede walls added a bit of character to it. Nevertheless, it was definitely my room. It was rather small in dimension. The walls were a rather plain white dimly illuminated by a florescent glow. There were two beds stationed in the room: one on the north wall, one on the west wall.
He sat there opposite of me.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him last yet all the features that I love about him still remained. A bit of stubble here and there traced the outline of his jaw. A white undershirt that gave him such a pristine appearance set his pale skin ablaze with various hues of pink and red. Such soft hands he had with nails tattered from habitual biting. His hair was free from any substance as he had just taken a shower. How I loved how it naturally fell on his face. I pleaded with him for a time of how much I absolutely adored it unscathed by the harsh and definite hand of gels. Alas, these pleas would go unheeded. Change is certainly difficult for some and he was no exception. Though it was what made him him: the man I fell for.
That was a long time ago. Yet as I sat there staring in his direction, I couldn’t help but feel the vulnerability I felt so many months ago. It was almost a year in fact since I last saw him. Since I last held him in my arms and despite him being within arms length, I felt further from him than when an AIM client was our only means of communication. Insecurities swept over me and instantaneously I was caught in the updraft of insidious youth.
Just then he extended his hand out towards me. This confused me a bit and left me with a sense of unease. After all he was the one who lost interest in me. Fear began to grasp my lungs as he moved in closer. He placed his hand behind my neck. I could feel the heat pulsating through his fingers awakening my skin to his touch. His eyes burned through to my soul and I was completely helpless to avoid this breech in fortitude. But the urge to sustain my heart was unwavering. It was difficult to extinguish the desire I had cultivated throughout our courtship but I had prevailed though not wholeheartedly. I became content along this road to regaining my sanity with this familiar acquaintance called Solitude. And in an instant the stronghold tapestries began to unravel.
Tension started to build up in my arms as I began to push him away. I couldn’t go back. I had spent so much time securing these walls that vulnerability wasn’t an option. As I tried to escape his grasp he took hold of my arm and I stumbled and fell back taking him with me. I could feel his breath blanketing my face. I struggled to regain my bearings, pushing against his chest. “No…” I began to cry. “Not again… I don’t want to have to lose you again.” He grabbed my wrists and held them firmly against the floor above my head. Quietly looking into my eyes, he kissed my lips.
I remember enjoying feeling the warmth of his hand as it draped across my shoulder as our bodies connected underneath the sheets. A luxury I hadn’t had the pleasure of indulging in. I wanted to stay asleep forever.