Panic

A/N: All the dialogue are lyrics from Panic! At the Disco songs.

A shiver went down my spine as her lips kissed down my body and hovered over the place I needed her more than anything. Her words were heavy as she whispered, "You're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone." She would say stuff like this all the time. Whenever she spoke it was like she was singing a song. The way her lips would move when she'd talk to me, it was like she was reciting a poem only meant for my ears. There could've been music playing in the background, but all I could hear was her low, raspy voice.

Most of the time I never understood her words. I think she knew that. Then, other times, I'd know exactly what she meant. Yes, without even realizing it, we were communicating. For most of our relationship, it felt as if we were speaking two different languages. She was so eloquent with the way she spoke.

I think it was Confucius who said something along the lines of: not to talk to one who can be talked to is to waste a man. To talk to those who cannot be talked to is to waste one's words.

I think she wasted a lot of words with me. But I liked to listen to her speak anyway. She always meant what she said, and I think that's what I loved the most about her. She was just so spitfire and charge and intensity without even trying.

"So tell me right now," she breathed out against my skin as I lied beneath her. "You think you're ready for it?"

I clenched my eyes shut and nodded frantically. Her breath touched my skin and a shock electrified my body. All I could focus on was the way my chest heaved up and down as she made my heart beat faster and faster.

"I wanna know why you got me going..." she sighed lowly, her naked body hovering over me. I swallowed thickly and focused on my breathing. She was slowly turning me inside out and I had no objections. Nuzzling her nose into my neck, she kissed my sweaty skin and whispered, "I swear to God, I'd never heard a better sound coming out then when you're whimpering my name from your mouth."

I opened my eyes and whimpered.

She looked down at me. Her brown curls draped over our faces, creating a private and intimate curtain around us. It was just me and her. I liked it this way. I brushed her hair back and behind her ear. I loved the feeling of her smooth locks flowing through my fingers.

Her eyes, like chocolate swirls, sparkled in the moonlight gleaming through my curtains. "So let's go..." she whispered, her hands trailing down my naked body. "We'll take it out of here."

My breath hitched as her fingertips touched me. And then she stopped. It was my turn to speak. It had been so long since I'd said something worthwhile that I almost froze, but she wasn't going to continue unless I voiced my agreement. She wanted to know that I wanted this too.

There were no doubts in my mind as I whispered, "I think I'm ready to leap."

She blinked slowly, still waiting for more. Her hand hovered over me. I could feel the moisture of how wet I was sticking to the sides of my thighs. She needed more. She needed to hear more from me for once.

"I'm ready to live," I practically growled, throwing my arms around her neck. "I'm ready to go." And then I crashed our lips together passionately, bringing her down on top of me so that we were now body to body, no space between us to even breathe.

And for the first time ever...I let go. I gave her everything I had, knowing she could tear me apart with just one touch. And I let her, because I trusted her with my whole being.

I loved her.

We walked down the street side by side. I loved the fact that I could just look to my left and she'd be right there next to me. "You've got these little things that you've been running from," she said as she ran her hands under my shirt and up my back, her fingers burning a trail on my hot skin. "You either love them or I guess you don't."

She was right. I had been running for most of my life. The only thing was, I had no idea what I was running from. I had a fear, but I didn't know what it was. Brown eyes and a lovely smile helped me discover that fear. I wasn't afraid of heights, but I was afraid of falling. Falling for her.

She wasn't just smooth with her words. Everything about her was pure and graceful. She'd say things so out of the blue, I'd have to do a double take to make sure they came from her. "You're such a pretty thing," she said adoringly, interlacing our fingers as we rounded the corner.

She was smiling so bright. I didn't want to ever see that smile go away, but once I pulled my hand away from hers, I knew it did. I'd never look her way to check. She'd just stay silent as we continued to walk. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, make her think I was ashamed of her, but I couldn't take the chance. I couldn't let people see me with her and she knew that.

"A vision with nowhere to go," she muttered remorsefully, taking a step to the side and away from me. It was huffed under her breath. She didn't think I heard her. But I always heard everything she'd say.

Frustrated.

That's what she made me most of the time. Not in a sexual way. Never in a sexual way. She always left me satisfied.

I was frustrated with her words. I didn't understand. I wanted to get it so bad - too bad. I wanted to understand.

Every word that left her lips was like a lyric to a song. It left me wanting more. I didn't want the song to end, though all songs eventually do. That, I suppose, was my problem. I didn't want her - us - to end. But like all good things in life, it did.

I had a husband. I guess - you could say - that was our problem as well. Our biggest problem. He was like the peanut that gets stuck in the back of your throat. He blocked our air way. The oxygen couldn't get to my lungs. He was in the way of me continuing to live, to love, to want, to desire.

He was just there.

"Velvet lips and the eyes to pull me in." Her breath tickled my ear as she whispered these words. Sitting at the bar, I had to squeeze my thighs together to control my arousal. And as her palm landed on my bare knee, I clutched tightly to my stool and sipped quickly on my drink.

She knew what she did to me; her words droze me crazy. They were just words but it felt like I was already on the edge.

We met here almost twice a week. It felt like a rendezvous between lovers. That's exactly what it was, but I tried to pretend it was something else. It was a sexy and steamy roleplay in my mind. She was the woman on the other side of the bar. I caught her eye and she couldn't get me out of her head. She just had to talk to me or else she'd lose her mind.

"We both know you'd already win." Her tongue slid against my earlobe before her teeth nibbled the skin. I stopped breathing completely. "Mmm..." she moaned throatily, her eager hands finding the hem of my tight, black dress. "Your original sin." Her fingers inched up my dress until I could feel her all over. No one was paying us any mind, so I gave in.

I hurt her without meaning to. We were sneaking around for months. My husband didn't know. Well, I don't think he did. Sometimes I feel it would have been easier if he found out. If he came home from work early one night and found us making love on our bed. I wondered what he'd do. Would he kick her out? Would he kick us both out?

Surprisingly, I don't think he would yell. My husband was a senstive man.

I'd see the vision in my head all the time. It would flicker through my eyes in black and white like an old, silent film. He'd catch us in the act, but he wouldn't say a thing. Tears would gather in his eyes as he looked back and forth between us with a pained expression. I'd cover myself frantically and run towards him, falling to my knees and pleading for his forgiveness. Instead of looking down at me, he'd look to the bed were she was sitting. Without a single word, he'd look at the both of us and point to the door.

I was still afraid of falling, even if I already had. I guess I was just in denial. I couldn't be in love with a woman. I was married. I had a devoted husband who I never wanted to hurt. I couldn't let what happened in my imagination become real, so I broke it off with her. She wasn't happy.

She wasn't happy at all.

Time passed and the harsh words she said to me that day stayed in my head for months.

"And how I hope to God he was worth it," she whispered hotly in my ear. "When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin." I turned my head but she was nowhere to be seen. I pressed my hand against the wall and sunk to the floor. "I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie. You had me."

It was all true. Everything she said stuck in my brain and played on repeat over and over and over again.

Maybe I could forget her if I tried hard enough? "No, no, no..." she taunted in my brain. "You know it will always just be me." The song was stuck in my head. She was the singer and it was driving me insane. She had said those words so calmy months ago, so why was it haunting me now?

"Then think of what you did," she screamed harshly, trying to make me feel guilty in order to hide the hurt she was feeling. "Think of what you did!"

And that was my answer: I thought about everything I did wrong for the longest time and it tore me apart.

My husband knew something was amiss, but he never asked about it. That's how I knew she was right. Was he worth it? He touched me. But he didn't touch me the way she did. He loved me. But he didn't love me the way she did.

I was a cheater. Still a cheater. I was having an affair with her words. When I'd close my eyes, I could see her red lips moving in the darkness as she spoke. "You know it will always just be me."

I needed her back. My husband still didn't know.

He never had to know.

There was this emptiness in the pit of my stomach and only she could fill that hole. I blindly walked through the streets. Somehow, without even realizing it, I found my way to the record store. Like always, she was there. She looked darker than usual. She was in the corner in front of a stack of records with these big, black headphones on.

She was drowning out the world and I didn't blame her. I was the reason she looked so down. It was me who destroyed her passion. I took the light out of her eyes. She had changed, it was all my fault, but it wasn't too late for me to restore what I'd taken away.

What I didn't expect was for her to push me away though. It was only three months ago when she'd told me she would always love me and never hurt me in any way. Well, that was before I hurt her first.

"You fooled me once with your eyes now, honey," she said softly, calmly so that she wouldn't break down in front of me or in the middle of the record store. She didn't even look my way as she whispered, "You fooled me twice with your lies." It almost sounded like she didn't care. Her words were robotic and rehearsed. She had a long time to think about what she'd say if she ever saw my face again. "I really hoped that you would stay, but you left and went your own way, babe."

I stood there and stared at her as she raked through shelves of albums. Did she even realize I was still standing there? I needed her to look at me and see the pain in my eyes. That way, she couldn't say no to me. If only she looked into my eyes and saw how much I was hurting as well, she'd be back. My heart would be hers again. This, she knew. That's why she didn't look my way; her dark eyes stayed focused on the CD in her hands.

I wanted to say something so bad that my lips began to tremble. I slapped my hand over my mouth as tears formed in my eyes. Without even looking at me, she saw my confusion, she felt my struggle. She could sense my pain.

And she waited, like always. She waited for me to speak what was really going through my mind. Five minutes had passed as I tried to speak. I was never good with words like she was. Other than the music in the store, it was silent.

"I don't mind. Take your time," she sighed eventually, carelessly. "I got things to do besides sit around and wait for you." She began to walk away, but at the last minute, she looked over her shoulder and said as if she'd almost forgotten, "Oh...and I hope you do too," and with that she left.

I watched her leave the store, but my feet remained planted to the ground. I couldn't follow her.

I was a coward.

We didn't start out so intense. Things were innocent for the longest time. She wasn't blind to my wedding ring, but I think I was sometimes.

She was vulgar with her jokes. "Can we fast-forward till you go down on me?" I liked how open she was, but I didn't realize until later that she was telling the truth. She wanted me. She really wanted me.

I thought we were just friends, but I was being naive. She wanted me all along and all the signs were there:

1. She gave me her number.

2. I called her.

3. We went out for dinner a few times.

4. We'd flirt and touch.

5. The touches got more and more intimate as time went by.

I didn't know that what we were doing was more than friendship until she tried to kiss me. I was surprised by her actions, but I didn't let it show. Somewhere in my mind, I had been wanting this to happen all along. I was just in denial. But I couldn't pretend that what we were doing was just a friendship anymore. She wanted me in a different way. And so did I. So I did the only thing I could do.

I kissed her back.

We kissed hungrily until we could no longer breathe. She invited me back to her place, but I politely declined. She understood. Well, at least I thought she did. She thought I wanted to take it slow, but truthfully, I didn't know where I wanted to take it.

Her lips would ghost over my ear. "Is it still me that makes you sweat?" I'd hear her words. They were loud. Yet still a whisper. Was she coaxing me? Maybe she was teasing me? Or perhaps mocking me?

Even after that day in the record store, she stayed in my head, in my heart. I needed her. She was my air and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't live without her. When I'd sit in bed alone, she would turn up out of nowhere. It was just in my mind, but it felt so real. It was like she was really there with me.

I gulped.

She was always so close without even being near. I could feel her everywhere around me - stratch that- I could feel her in me. That's how close we were. And we weren't even touching. Oh, how I wanted to touch her, but how do you touch something that's inside you? I'd clutch at my heart, force it to stop beating so hard. It hurt. It hurt too much. I felt like she was clawing through my flesh as she tried to be free. Was I holding her captive? No, she wanted to be there. She told me she wanted to be in my heart.

"Am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?" She squinted her dark eyes challengingly as she waited for an honest answer.

She was mocking me.

Because I didn't choose her, she was making me know I had made the wrong decision. Her words were just a whisper, but I could hear them loud and clear.

"I led the revolution in my bedroom and I set all the zippers free," she breathed - no, panted - into my mouth, her eyes glued to mine. I could see my reflection in her eyes, but I didn't want to look at how messed up I'd become in her absence. "No more war, no more clothes. Give me peace. Oh, kiss me."

It amazed me how well I could understand her after all this time; her words were no longer these codes or passwords I had to break in order to make sense of her and her thoughts and her mystery.

She knew I wanted her more. And that's why she spoke this way. It was a reminder of my wrong choice. It was a reminder of all my mistakes when it involved the two of us.

It was an old building. One of those buildings you wonder how are still standing after all these years. It looked pretty ancient from the outside. And it looked like it told a story. Maybe that's what drew me inside. I had felt this pull on my heart. As I neared the building, my pulse increased. Maybe it wasn't the ancient building after all. Maybe it were those brown eyes awaiting me inside.

I had just been exploring. I had no destination in mind when I walked into that store to escape the hustle and bustle of the city streets. I walked up the steps slowly, but when I heard the music, my speed picked up. I took two steps at a time until I reached the top.

I needed an escape from real life. She brought that to me without even realizing it. Dressed in all black, she walked - no, strutted - down the aisle of records in the store. Indie Folk. Alternative Rock. Dance Punk. It all blasted from the speakers. It was like her anthem. Every word sung meant something deeper to me because of her.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered into my ear from behind while I was searching for music. "I want you to catch me like a cold."

I startled and turned around, almost knocking down the stack of records filed behind me. Her hands went straight to my hips to steady me. I thought I was going to puke after that. Not because she was hideous, but because I was so caught off guard by her beauty that my stomach was doing backflips.

I thought she had been kidding when she whispered those words in my ear. Later, I found out she wasn't. She always told me whatever was on her mind. She was so open with me. And she was confident; I could tell without even hearing her speak. It was written all over her body; the way she held herself.

We spoke about music that night; our favorite artists and albums and songs and rock bands. She was really funny. Her jokes were strange, but they were also witty. It was a dark humor she used. Sometimes I didn't understand, but that's what I liked about her; she made me think.

"You come along because I love your face," she joked, nudging me in the shoulder as we browsed through albums and albums of music. "And I'll admire your expensive taste." She gestured to what was in my hands: a record that was around eighty dollars. And I laughed. It was the first time I laughed in awhile. It was the first time a smile had even graced my face in days. I didn't notice how numb I was until she made me feel something again.

Other than the cold gust of wind, she was the sting that infected my bones that night. Brown eyes. That's the first thing I think of when I remember her. They were dark. Very dark. They were open too; I could see everything she was feeling with just one look. I liked that about her. In other eyes, I'd get lost and never find my way out.

Not with her though.

I couldn't let her go. She was pushing me away. It was suppose to be for the best, but it just ended up hurting the both of us.

I found her a few days later in the same corner where she had left me gaping. I couldn't let her get away this time. She was all I had ever wanted. How do you let go of something you need?

As I approached her, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Nothing between us ever was. But that was what I liked about us. We fought for what we loved - each other.

I snuck up behind her the same way she done to me the first time we met. "Back to the street where we began," I said softly, my hand traveling down her side and toward her hips. "Feeling as good as lovers can, you know."

She turned her head and I felt the exhale from her nose hit my cheek. It was late and there weren't many people around, so I pressed my front into her. "It looks like the end of history as we know," she spoke dryly, sarcastically. "It's just the end of the world." She didn't want me to see through her brick walls. She didn't want me to tear them down again. But she was always so open with me. I didn't want her to hide.

She wasn't trying to break out of my hold, so I proceeded as planned. "You have set your heart on haunting me forever," I told her, leaning my chin down on her shoulder as I wrapped my arms around her. She slowly put down the CD she was holding and stared forward. "Ever since we met I only shoot up with your perfume. It's the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do."

I could feel her resistence breaking. Taking a calming breath, she slumped back in my arms and sighed. "How does a heart love if no one has noticed its presence?" she asked quietly, placing her warm hands on top of mine.

I could finally understand, and thankfully, I had an answer. "Fix me, or conflict me," I responded immediately, nuzzling my nose into her neck. I closed my eyes, inhaled her sent and exhaled, "I'll take anything..."

She huffed, shaking her head in frustration. "Trembling hands play my heart like a trombone," she argued, leaning her head back to give me better access as I began to kiss her neck. "The beats gone and lost in the show."

Pursing my lips, I kissed her neck and breathed against her skin. "When your chips are down and your drinks are all gone," I began soothingly, wanting to express everything I felt in words just like she did everyday. "I'll still be here, wishing and waiting for you to come home."

I can't exactly tell you everything about her by just using words. She was the one who was good with words. I expressed my feelings better with my body. She liked the way I moved. On the dancer floor. In the bedroom. Just walking down the street.

Whenever I would hear music, I'd want to move in some sort of way. But when I'd hear her sing, I couldn't move a muscle. Sometimes she'd joke and say, "You'll dance to anything..." That wasn't true. Her voice hypnotized me and all I'd be able to do is just stare at her as her mouth moved. I wouldn't attack those lips until she sung those last words. And the whole time I listened? She had only been speaking, but her voice was like music to my ears.

"Stop there and let me correct it..." I had already left my husband. Now all I had left to do was show her how much I loved her. "I wanna live a life from a new perspective," I whispered, turning her around in my arms. Her dark eyes met mine and I smiled because I loved those eyes with my whole heart. "I'm just a white blood cell fighting like hell for you, Santana."

The End.