One off fluff thing. Please review. Btw this is my first story for man so if tis rubbish that's why!!!
Can I kiss you?
A young man lies on the bed. The room is dark, the moonlight creeping in through the cracked window, highlighting the one thing the Japanese man owns. His flower, there is only one petal left now. It makes me sad, to see that. I know it shouldn't. I know it's wrong for me to feel like this, but I do. He won't know. He can't ever know. I wish he could, but he can't. I have my destiny already written for me, I can't turn away from this path now. Not when I've come so far. That doesn't change it though. When I see him lying there. Lips slightly parted. Hair falling like a dark curtain over his eyes. Denying me entry. Denying me the answer to the question that rises, unbidden, unwanted, to my mind.
Can I kiss you?
It's cold this morning. The wind is making him shiver slightly. I shouldn't be watching. I don't even care about him. I don't care about anything, anyone. I can't. I laid down that rule years ago. But now there's a part of me that wants to break it. Wants to ask the question floating over my head. The question that seems so wrong, that goes against everything I've ever told him, or told myself. I can't ever let those words escape my lips. I can't speak those words that rise, unexplained, unjustified to my mind
Can I kiss you?
He's watching me again. Like I watch him, continually sneaking a glance. Praying he doesn't see me. I know he does the same. It's a never-ending game of looking. Longing. Knowing that I need something I can never have. Something that I fear will be snatched away from me before I get the courage to ask that question. The question that burns me up inside. That is tearing a hole in my carefully constructed mind-set. Driving me insane. He wouldn't respond. I know that. I don't expect him to answer me. The question is too stupid. I can't ask it. Can I?
Can I kiss you?
I can't see. I can feel the blood from my wound seeping out of me, lying around me in pools. It's over now. But still all I can think of is him. Him, and the question he will now never answer. The question I can never ask. Even if he comes now. Even if he finds me it will be too late. I no longer have the strength to speak those words. The words I will never hear outside of my own mind. He's here now. He looks frightened. Why. He isn't dying. He has years yet to live. I'm not frightened. Why should he be? Maybe he should be. I don't know, it's getting so dark now, so hard to think. I can still here though. He's saying something. I can't tell the meaning of his words anymore. I don't know what any of this means. It's just sounds now. Speak in Japanese Baka – Usagi. I can't speak. How does he expect me to translate his words? For a second I can see. Everything is clear, and sharp. The man's lips are moving. I can hear what he says now. I understand. He says my name. For the first time it doesn't rile me like it has done for the past 5 years. 5 years. It doesn't seem that long. Time seems to have flown, since I was a 14-year-old boy, scared of the imposing door that I was to enter, and change my life forever. It was him who was there when I opened that door. Smiling at me. Laughing away my foreboding. Telling me I was home. Now he says it. Those words. The words I want to say myself. The words so close to my now silent heart.
Can I kiss …
Silence.