The very last time I wanted to touch you I landed quite a blow. You stumbled back, your eyes hot, glaring at me.
A slow, ominous smile creeped upon my lips, and I knew that I indeed meant it, though inside I was a flustered mess.
You smiled right back, but with no anger. It had more of an awareness, a truth, a horrible reasoning that made sense. But only in a very horrible, horrible way.
We shared a very strange relationship. At least, stranger than from when I was a mere child.
We understood each other.
And with that understanding, you came to a very strange conclusion.
We weren't just similar, no.
We were...
Meant to be.
You said it. With your sharp, snaky words cracking the very fabric of my sanity, my whole being silently becoming sick with shivers and revelations, I didn't know what to think.
Then, years after this admittance, you cornered me in the secluded quiet of my apartment. With our bodies meshed loosely together, you hissed against my neck, "We never will succeed. Neither of us, do you know why?"
I tried to push you off, but you only strengthened your hold on me. I finally spoke, "Why?" I wisped between shaking lips.
"You and I are meant to do this... forever. There's no point, no win or lose. Only you... and me."
I spit out your words, refusing to believe you had given up your mission of world conquest.
You growled and wrapped my soul around your grating drawl. "Ok, then." And that's when you and your lithe, creeping hands wrapped around my neck. My breath hitched and my heart rate jumped faster than a bunny on crack, all the places in my body hot except for where your hand was, making me want to run away from my own skin.
"Beaaaaautiful." You growled softly, staring at me darkly, intensely.
"You're sick."
"We both are." A soft whisper as you came closer, your face a canvas of jagged and glowing mystery, tearing into my pale, weak flesh.
A thick, ugly silence permeated between us, latching on for dear life before it was broken.
"Your eyes are much brighter without that contraption you used to wear."
I smirked. "You mean... glasses?" I said sarcastically.
You ignored me, inching closer until our bodies were so tightly pressed together, I was dying of claustrophobia.
"Tell me you don't like this."
I didn't.
"Tell me you hate me."
I smiled. "I do."
"Say it." You clawed at my throat, breathing on my neck.
"I, ahhh.. oh.. shit.. stop!" I screamed as you broke through my flesh.
"I HAAATE YOU!" I drew it out nice and long, whimpering through my words.
I almost stopped breathing as I tried to pull in air, but I seemed to be choking on it instead of savoring it.
Slowly, I came out of the almost asthma like attack, my whole body inhaling and exhaling in aches and shudders.
In a haze, your breath ghosted like feathers upon my skin, blood tainting your lips as you grazed my wound.
"Tell me you want me."
I can't remember if I really said it or if I hallucinated it all. "I--"
I saw your eyes glisten and your tongue sliding over your lips languidly.
"want you."
--
The very last time I wanted to touch you I landed quite a blow. You stumbled back, your eyes hot, glaring at me.
A slow, ominous smile creeped upon my lips, and I knew that I indeed meant it, though inside I was a flustered mess.
You smiled right back, but with no anger. It had more of an awareness, a truth, a horrible reasoning that made sense. But only in a very horrible, horrible way.
You lied Zim.
You won.