It only happened once. That's the only thought that keeps flying through my head whenever I'm in the same room as him. Something that shouldn't have happened, but did because we were too weak minded to prevent it. It's weird... because in my head, I still remember that night like it happened yesterday and the only thing I want more is to just forget about it and move on. I see him looking at me sometimes, standing across the room pretending to talk to people and I know that he thinks about it, too. I'm unsure of whether or not he regrets it like I do, but I know just by the look in his eyes that he's plagued by these same thoughts.
It only happened once, and yet I can still feel the way my hands just slid down his body as he leaned against the wall in front of me. He didn't look at me at all that night, and my mind was screaming at me the whole time to stop while I still had some control over myself. His skin was so soft beneath my fingertips, and the strange burn of affection I felt for him in that moment was more frightening then I can describe. Every bruise... every bump... every little bit of imperfection on his body was keeping me from stopping, because his offer kept ringing in my head like a fucking siren.
"I just... need..."
He started it, I think. The details are a little fuzzy in my head because our depression controlled us that night, my need for comfort blazing as strong as I'm sure his was. I remember his hands grabbing me by the shirt and then I was suddenly against the door, my head slamming roughly back into the wood. The look in his eyes was haunting as he stared up at me, then as soon as it all happened, he was a couple steps away from me fiddling with the button on his pants. I wanted... god, I don't know... to help him undress, to tell him to stop, to ask if talking would be enough to take that look out of his beautiful eyes.
It only happened once, and I knew I would never see him this vulnerable again. He made that very clear by refusing to look at me after he slid his pants down to the floor and turned away to put both of his hands against the wall. I felt like I was about to rape him, taking advantage of his kindness and of him in this very strange time of need. And yet... I don't think I could've denied him even if he asked me to. I felt even worse because I didn't even undress to the same extent that he did, unzipping only my jeans. The only way I can describe what we were doing is that it felt incredibly wrong, but I haven't felt anything as amazing in my whole life. I wanted him to look at me and tell me that what I was doing wasn't awful, but he wouldn't even give me that priviledge. He tilted his head back and pressed himself against my chest, and I noticed I was... oh god... nuzzling my face against his exposed neck. His blonde hair was tickling my forehead as I nipped and kissed his skin, leaving angry red marks wherever I touched.
All too soon, it was over. Without saying anything, he got dressed and left me standing there with my legs shaking uncontrollably in the middle of the room. My skin was crawling with pleasure, and I wanted him back in the room with me almost seconds after I saw him disappear from my sight. I wanted to grab him and pull him against me, and tilt his face up so he would look in my eyes so I could see if he felt the same thing I was feeling.
It only happened once. We never spoke one word about what we did, and I wondered if the pain I felt in my chest was because we let ourselves go that far or if it was for not getting another chance to feel him again. His quiet voice continues to echo in my head even today, the only words he spoke that night haunting me every waking... and sleeping... moment of my life.
"I just... need... you, Heero."
WTF 1x4?!???!?? ^____~