I drank in the smell of his skin as if every breath would be my last, quietly revelling in the fact that each time I exhaled he was still there to provide me with my next hit. The perfume really was intoxicating. More feminine than had any right to come from such a character yet not as cloying as any bottled fragrance. It seemed strange that such a dark man could smell like sunshine, but he pulled it off with his usual prowess. Every second of every minute of every hour I spent with him, I spent drowning in it, drenched in the ecstasy of his presence. He was reaching over to take the quill from my hand when our fingers brushed and for a minute a glorious, glorious heat spread across the side of my hand, I leant into his touch instinctively, craving the warmth in a childish sort of way. He flinched. And the churn of nausea somewhere in the pit of my stomach as he pulled away was all too familiar. He was still running, always running, running from anything that made him feel, anything that was here and now and real.
It seemed he'd been running his whole life. He would never admit that I terrified him, never in those words. For why should he explain himself to me, a mere child? Surely the very innability to untangle his riddles was proof of my inneptitude, he certainly projected that opinion, indeed it seemed to me it wasn't my youth that disgusted him but my obvious adoration for the self he loathed. My pride felt it couldn't take this much longer, couldn't take the endless grind of laying myself bare for him only to be thrown to the ground, the bitterness and the confusion and the constant ache of longing. The same shock of rejection, time after time, the same paralysing jolt that foresight can never dull. My heart, on the other hand, knew damn well that I'd take it for as long as he wanted, the sadistic bastard.
It wasn't as if I had a choice in the matter, I passed boys in the corridors and I didn't see their faces, they just melted into the grey of the walls. The centre of my universe had shifted the first time I saw him, the first time I really saw him and now I orbited around him, him and his bloody ego and all of his complications. I was insignificant to his galaxy, worth less note than a dwarf planet, I was a shooting star. But something set me apart from the others, I was the first one ever to revolve around him. It'd taken me a while to realise, which is always the way with Sev, he drops a bombshell and I don't notice until three days later when, thanks to him may I add, I'm scribbling through another sleepless night and it hits me. I am the first person ever to love him and he finds that utterly repulsive, he'll use anything to excuse the fact that he doesn't want me and my age gives him the perfect reason, but that doesn't even scratch the surface of his aversion to me. He's never denied he enjoys my touch, that being with me feels good to him and I know he adores the attention I offer, yet he hates the connotations, the thought that he might feel for me disgusts him. And that aches, that aches in a way that never leaves.