Completely
Fighting with you sends tears to my eyes and chills down my spine. Putting you down, the hurt in your voice that no one can hear except me, the low blows are all what I yearn for. The lame comments and the personal touches, all what I wanted from you and no one else. Everyone thought we were enemies. All thought we were never to be.
How wrong were they?
Very much.
Every fight we had, fists or verbal, were all an intricate game of love and hate. Hate for the life you had to portray; love for the contact. I don't know how you put up with me. I don't know why you did it all. I would like to think that this started suddenly but whenever I saw the fury in your eyes, I knew that this was a long and due process starting since the dawn of our time. We knew what buttons to push. We knew what caress to disguise. Stolen glances, provoked words. All of this was meant to make us bond, connect on some similar plane. You hate your life and so did I. I hated my situation and so did you.
We were together. Flowers seemed to lose their colors, while sky seems to be your eyes. Grays became even more confusing and nothing became so concrete as you and the fights.
Kissing.
Now that was much more fun. They were never tender...we were two boys. They were never to be expected of us. But they were delirious and few and far between...in the beginning. At first they were harsh, brash, domineering like two heterosexuals males should give. I wanted you and you wanted me. Two loud personalities, one real goal. A kiss to steal. One day, after a particularly harsh fight, he gave in. I went in for the "kill" and he relented. He was resigned to me taking over. Perhaps he was tired of fighting or tired of lying, I'll never know. But I do know that once his thin lips slackened under mine, I knew this to be love.
Love...what a silly little concept.
But I guess we had it. We still fought, to keep up appearances, but there was almost a tease – a game like before- and that's what excited us both.
But I know you don't want hear about kisses candid but nights spent passionate.
Of course. Those four nights were spectacular. Four random nights. The first three times were ruddy awful because it was our first times. After a night of discussing what we wanted and where we wanted that to go, that last time was marvelous. Simply and utterly. We weren't commandeering the ship of love. We weren't playing the roles of two straight blokes rubbing together. I guess we were really homosexuals then. We loved – no hate – for once. We listened if the other whispered where to go, we did well from the previous night's discussion about our "spots". We simply were.
Afterwards, there were no words. Not kisses or cuddles or even a whisper. I just looked at him as a slipped out of his room unnoticed. He was dozing off. He was trying to fight it with no avail. And as his lids were drooping to the halfway mark, and not from lust, all I could think of was the night's actions and next morning's fight.
You said something that changed us for good. "Love you." You feel asleep.
I never said it back. We never fought afterwards. Kisses were too pliant on your part. We were over.
Now it's time to prove ourselves. Prove that we last. It's Graduation and the reception. Everyone is here and then there's you. I miss you.
I find you with that family of yours. Upturned sneers and hate piercing me but I didn't care. I went to you, my hand on either side of your face. Your eyes begged me not to but I had to. I kissed him. Completely. I gave in to him.
"I love you too."
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A/N: Confusing? I know. That's the point. Make it your own! I hope you like it! Even though it isn't beta-ed.
Fighting with you sends tears to my eyes and chills down my spine. Putting you down, the hurt in your voice that no one can hear except me, the low blows are all what I yearn for. The lame comments and the personal touches, all what I wanted from you and no one else. Everyone thought we were enemies. All thought we were never to be.
How wrong were they?
Very much.
Every fight we had, fists or verbal, were all an intricate game of love and hate. Hate for the life you had to portray; love for the contact. I don't know how you put up with me. I don't know why you did it all. I would like to think that this started suddenly but whenever I saw the fury in your eyes, I knew that this was a long and due process starting since the dawn of our time. We knew what buttons to push. We knew what caress to disguise. Stolen glances, provoked words. All of this was meant to make us bond, connect on some similar plane. You hate your life and so did I. I hated my situation and so did you.
We were together. Flowers seemed to lose their colors, while sky seems to be your eyes. Grays became even more confusing and nothing became so concrete as you and the fights.
Kissing.
Now that was much more fun. They were never tender...we were two boys. They were never to be expected of us. But they were delirious and few and far between...in the beginning. At first they were harsh, brash, domineering like two heterosexuals males should give. I wanted you and you wanted me. Two loud personalities, one real goal. A kiss to steal. One day, after a particularly harsh fight, he gave in. I went in for the "kill" and he relented. He was resigned to me taking over. Perhaps he was tired of fighting or tired of lying, I'll never know. But I do know that once his thin lips slackened under mine, I knew this to be love.
Love...what a silly little concept.
But I guess we had it. We still fought, to keep up appearances, but there was almost a tease – a game like before- and that's what excited us both.
But I know you don't want hear about kisses candid but nights spent passionate.
Of course. Those four nights were spectacular. Four random nights. The first three times were ruddy awful because it was our first times. After a night of discussing what we wanted and where we wanted that to go, that last time was marvelous. Simply and utterly. We weren't commandeering the ship of love. We weren't playing the roles of two straight blokes rubbing together. I guess we were really homosexuals then. We loved – no hate – for once. We listened if the other whispered where to go, we did well from the previous night's discussion about our "spots". We simply were.
Afterwards, there were no words. Not kisses or cuddles or even a whisper. I just looked at him as a slipped out of his room unnoticed. He was dozing off. He was trying to fight it with no avail. And as his lids were drooping to the halfway mark, and not from lust, all I could think of was the night's actions and next morning's fight.
You said something that changed us for good. "Love you." You feel asleep.
I never said it back. We never fought afterwards. Kisses were too pliant on your part. We were over.
Now it's time to prove ourselves. Prove that we last. It's Graduation and the reception. Everyone is here and then there's you. I miss you.
I find you with that family of yours. Upturned sneers and hate piercing me but I didn't care. I went to you, my hand on either side of your face. Your eyes begged me not to but I had to. I kissed him. Completely. I gave in to him.
"I love you too."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------
A/N: Confusing? I know. That's the point. Make it your own! I hope you like it! Even though it isn't beta-ed.