Tuesday, December 2, 2014
I'm trying my hand at getting back to creative writing. It's been far too long since I explored and utilized this creative part of me. Hope you enjoy this writing prompt from Yeah Write, a blog/tumblr I recently discovered.
"We're more than that, you know." He scratched behind his ear - a nervous tic I'd always found adorable - as he said the words. I'd heard them before. So many times before. Frankly, I couldn't fathom why this wonderful man still bothered - with the words and with me.
"More than what?" Playing dumb when it came to relationships (or lack thereof) had always been my forte. As I buttoned my blouse, I smiled at what I knew would follow my retort: he'd call me on my bullshit, tell me how much he loved me - how much he'd always loved me -and how one of these days I was going to pull my head out of my ass and realize I needed him, too.
He said nothing, though, when I stood from the bed and reached for the rest of my discarded clothes. A quick check of my watch told me I had less than an hour to get home. When we were together like this, I always lost track of the time. I locked gazes with him - his bright blue to my own duller brown - making sure my mask of indifference displayed without faltering.
Damn his blue eyes, always trying to cut through my defenses.
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, I thought he'd challenge me, try to break down my walls, like he always did. I lived for those moments, loved them. They were oxygen to my love-starved brain, a balm for the fire of constant disappointment and hopelessness that raged. But I watched as the light in his eyes faded, and he set his full lips in a thin line, the muscles of his jaw working hard to keep his mouth shut.
This time, he said nothing.
And I knew.
I'd lost him.
Part of me should've rejoiced in the idiocy that had succinctly made my life that less complicated. Instead, tears stung my eyes as I smiled at him, trying to pretend my world hadn't just fallen apart, my cynicism the instrument of destruction. This was a dangerous game, the most perilous I could orchestrate in my sham of a life, and I'd thrown away a perfectly good heart. Mine had been ruined years ago - I imagined if I ripped it out, it would be shriveled, rotted at the core with black veins of disease spidering from the center.
From my peripheral vision, I saw him start at my words, as if he never expected such sentiment. I tried to pretend that didn't hurt, either, as I sat to put on my shoes.
"You're sorry? For what, love?" How I'd miss the gentle roll of vowels and consonants over his tongue in that beautiful Irish lilt. No other man had ever called me that, and none ever would again. The very least I owed him was my honesty.
"I ruined your heart." There it was. My admission of my role as a relationship cancer - killer of all things good, and all things that could have been good.
He laughed, and I whipped my head to face him. My obvious confusion only made him chuckle harder.
"You did no such thing." He smiled at me and skimmed my jaw with his thumb, before leaning forward and kissing me. "It's perfectly safe." Something felt off. The kiss wasn't any less satisfying than before; on the contrary - I could now feel exactly how much he loved me, as if all of it had been poured into me at the contact.
My brain could not process his statement, or the feelings. "I-I don't understand."
"Let me enlighten you, then, love." He took my hands in his own, smoothing my knuckles with the rough pads of his thumbs. "You see, I've given you my heart."
"Okay, sure," I retorted, rolling my eyes at his expression. "I mean, I know how you feel about me, but-"
"It's not a metaphor, love, You quite literally now keep my heart with you - always."
A nervous chortle broke free from my lips, and I stood from the bed, needing some distance to assess him. As always, his blue eyes were clear, completely open and honest, and gauging my reaction to this bit of news.
"I told you before, love. You and I - we're more than just friends." I took a few deep breaths and put a palm over the center of my chest. Sure enough, my heart beat strong and steady beneath my fingers and skin, mocking my actions and validating his words.
"I am a part of you now," he said, a wicked, sexy grin spreading across his face. Fear was the only thing that kept me from tackling him and kissing the smile until we were both naked once more. Now, residing where only emptiness had been, was a warmth I'd never felt, enveloping my soul like an embrace. It filled me completely until I was sure he could see it spilling from my fingertips.
Perhaps he could - damn his eyes, always seeing through the veil. He stood and took my hand, brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers. My eyes burned again with tears, and this time they spilled onto my cheeks.