It seems as though the world will always work the same way in this dimly lit bar—he will be at one end and I will be at the other. We never look at each other, we just know the other is there. Slowly, slowly, we move closer to each other until our elbows knock together as we gulp a shot of the strongest alcohol the bartender can give us. Our knees brush and electricity shoots up my body like I'm in middle school again. His almost golden eyes light up with drunken mischief as his slender ivory fingers trail up and down my forearm. Goosebumps travel all over my skin and we both decline the offer of another drink.
Still no words are spoken as we sit in the rattling yellow cab. His fingers still linger on my skin and their warmth spreads through my chilled body. I long to be closer to him, on top of him, in him, but I know that he likes to keep things private. The 20 minute drive to my apartment takes long, too long, and it seems like years have passed by the time we enter my complex.
Finally, finally our lips meet in a hungered frenzy and we both struggle to take each other's jackets off. We walk, tripping over our own feet, to my small bedroom. Sometimes it's him, but today it's me that pushes him onto the bed and unbuttons his white shirt. I take my time, brushing my fingers over his exposed chest slowly until he growls. His fingers are flying at my own buttons and soon our bare bodies are pressed together, fighting to keep warm and share the burning passion we both feel.
The night progresses, and I'm sure my neighbors are annoyed but jealous. No words are uttered—not yet. The only sounds that fill the air are moans and cries of ecstasy. Everything is imprinted into my mind; the heated touches and the passionate stares that our golden and green eyes share. But the night goes too fast, and soon we're too tired to go any longer. Our sweaty limbs, still tangled together, rest. My heart aches and I wait for his breathing to become even before murmuring the first words of the night:
"I love you, Lovino."
In the morning, I blink my eyes blearily in the streaming light. The bed is empty, save for my naked body, and the all too familiar sadness overwhelms my senses. The pattern never changes, but I will see him again tonight. That I am sure of. I am terrified that one day this will end, and it will be me at one and of the bar and no one else at the other.
And though the pattern doesn't break now, I can only hope that one day his warmth will still be there and he will be whispering words of love.
This is just a quick little one shot that I wrote last night in about ten minutes. Please review and tell me what you think!