a c i d
It's usually like this.
She comes back to the apartment at sharply eight. At precisely eight o' five she has her arms wrapped around my neck and is whispering words of longing and comfort into my ear. I'm usually just about to head out to the radio station. Cloud hates it when I'm late (especially when it's because of her). So, as politely as I can, I push her away. She gives me this look that screams rejection and anger. But it slips and she warmly smiles and laughs and tells me it's all right. Then she proceeds to ramble on about her day (leaving out the obvious adultery I so do fear) as I collect my things. By the time I'm at the door, she's wrapping her skinny arms around me and pulling me into an embrace.
It's weird. When we kiss, it's not enough. Not the 'I need more of this, I'm addicted' but the feeling of just not being satisfied. I'm always left empty and craving something more passionate. Something that'll numb me to the core. Then again, she's done just that. She's numbed me to any feelings or touches. She hates when I push her away when she wants more than an exchange of kisses intermingled with a boring battle of tongues. I suppose that's why she does what she does. I suppose my lack of giving her what she wants is what is causing her to seek out 'other comforts'. Maybe that's why I don't make a big deal of it. We break up then get back together almost instantaneously. She's got a death-grip on my heart.
Larxene hates that I never let her come to work with me. She usually goes on this long rant about how she has always wanted to be a guest-star on a radio-show. I just look at her with this puzzled look and tell her Cloud wouldn't want me to bring her there. Of course, that's a lie. Cloud doesn't care who I bring there. It's my own choice to not allow her to tag along. Although she's my 'loving' girlfriend, I don't want her to compromise my 'secret identity'.
Weird, I know.
Though I suppose I should explain things?
My name's Riku Karada. I live in Boston (I have for my whole life, actually). I'm nearing the end of my freshman year at college. My girlfriend, Larxene, has been known for 'sleeping around'. We've been dating on and off for a few years now. We've … never been close. Nothing I do ever pleases her, and I regret to say that I feel the same towards her.
I cling to her with this false sense of hope that we're going to be together forever. Stupid, I know. But she's been there through a few … rough patches, and I feel like she's the only one who would understand and accept me.
But she's turning me cold and distant. Each kiss, each touch is making me feel intoxicated. Making me feel like I'm slipping or dying. It never makes me feel satisfied or happy or gleeful.
One of these days I'm going to get tired of this sick cycle of lies. I need something more - but I don't want to go that far and reach for it, you know? Maybe I'm over thinking, and maybe Larxene really is all I need. But when she leans in and brushes her chapped lips against my slightly quivering ones, I realize that something is missing.
Something has always been missing.
She laughs and says she has my heart and my soul wrapped around her little finger. That her grip on it is forever and that I should just get used to it. That resisting and denying will just make the wounded organ bleed more. And you know, I have to agree with her…