Lust.
Is lust fierce or gentle?
Brave or timid?
A monster or an angel?
Sly or straightforward?
Strict or lenient?
Dangerous or harmless?
It purrs when you achieve, growls when you don't.
It makes you go crazy.
It can be momentary or forever, immediate or gradual.
Too many varying degrees.
What's the best thing about lust? It hurts you so much less. You don't give a fuck if who you lust for don't lust for you too. But if the person you love doesn't love you back, it burns. Lust... Is harmless.
That's what I thought.
Until that day when I saw him kissing her fiercely on the couch.
It was right after band practice. I had left my jacket at his home, so appeared there two minutes after the practice ended to retrieve it.
The door was still unlocked and slightly ajar, so I strolled in easily.
And I saw them.
She was curled into him and he was holding her so tight they merged like two pieces of a puzzle, complete when together. And he thrust his lips to hers and they frantically twisted together.
'Nooo...'
All I could do was grab my jacket and run.
I've never run directionless before... Wind pinched my eyes like my fingers clawing at my hair. My throat invaded by devils of the frost. Knuckles started to crumble as they flamed crimson then paled white.
I should have known.
Nausea. Numb. I couldn't even remember writing the lyrics of that song without my mind tightening itself in charred knots.
'Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow...' It split my mind into two.
The intense disappointment in Remus somehow, and seemingly righteous anger at not being chosen.
Wallowing in deep, diseased eternal misery.
Maybe, just maybe, it's more than lust after all.
_next day_
'Siri, why do you look like a zombie today?' he asked
'Hmmm.' I mumbled vaguely, avoiding his luminous gaze frantically.
Last night, I was on the verge of insanity.
I had woke up at least 8 times, my brain vibrating, shivering, my eyes wide open, and feeling chilled beyond human limits. Like an angel flung from heaven.
I felt like I was crying blood in every jerking intake of breath, every stinging fall of a tear... Saying "lalalalalalalallalalala everything will work out in the end" did not help and only made me pissed by myself.
But I still feel sick. I've been feeling like throwing up since yesterday. I want to throw up my heart so that it'll never crack from pain again... It's empty. My heart's empty. All the love has been sucked out into the real world and dumped unceremoniously. And because it's hollow, it's fragile. So fragile it'll disappear any moment.
Don't you dare make my heart stop again. Because I now know it isn't meant for me...
The world was ending. Or at least MY world. My life revolved around him...I am choked by the flow of thoughts from my heart to my brain.
Maybe I've got a fever.
I remember thinking, that if this went on I'd go online randomly and find a few boyfriends to flirt with crazily. It would make me feel better... But I can't bring myself to do it. What if I caused someone to feel the way I do now?
It felt like ten hangovers. Actually, it still does now.
I faded away. And so did the day.
The second night, I realised, could be even worse than the first sleepless night.
All meek wisps of hope had already been extinguished or weakened. All insane, but hopeful theories had already been thought over countless times and deemed impossible. Every positive word of his had already been analyzed to its skeleton and labelled as mere passing comments or misunderstood.
Simply put, I was dying with no hope. So I closed my eyes, wrapped myself tight and tried at least to rest.
The haze before my eyes was about to swallow me when a corner of it started to stir. I unstuck my eyelids.
And there he was, standing right in front of me.
It wasn't his usual standing posture. He looked stiff and almost worn, as if he was an ancient stone statue charred by the cruel winds in a desert, armed with bullets of sand. He looked distant yet alert.
As if he had been watching me for a long time. I gazed back...
I was thankful the tendrils at the back of my mind managed to pull the bleeding memory of him far, far back. My eyes had enough of spluttering for air already...
'Siri,' he finally intoned. 'You were different today.' Like smoke, his words seemed to float away too fast. But they were still slow enough to form a grey halo around his head. The irony...
'I... Of course I was, you-.' I snapped my mouth shut abruptly and snatched the blanket tighter around me. I wished my hair could cover my face.
'Oh. I wonder why,' he simply stated.
'You. You! I mean, you don't need to know. Now. No.' I tried.
'I need to know,' he mentioned again.
'No, no... I've got a headache, now...' I weakly protested.
'I'll help you clear your pain... And then you have to tell me what happened to you, okay?'
I thought I didn't respond in any way.
But he helped me anyway.
He glided gradually to me, eyes like stars in the lonely night. I squirmed away, towards the corner. The cursed memory accelerated to the stage of my mind... Filthy, stubborn fingers scraped layer after layer of my heart away and threw the scraps deep, deep down into the dark.
When his face appeared before me, I could barely feel anything. Or anyone...
But he had to so critically strike my senses raw- deep, deep down. And we were merged together, dancing a devious dance and singing a striking song that no one else knew. I've always valued uniqueness…
My eyes imploded into whirring colours of the visible spectrum, painting dances blooming into a crescendo before me, leaving amethyst trails behind.
My nose smelled the firing leaps of spring churning into a seductive concoction, bubbling eagerly to race through my veins.
My ears were howling with the adrenaline of grasping onto as many voices as possible, both inside and outside me, like string stretched tight for a dying man to hold on.
My skin… consumed my mind, reduced daily needs to mere comments, and strangled my brain into thinking all I needed was him, this, MORE, him… Still resounding.
My tongue was desperately trying to recover it's sanity from the overwhelming sweetness that came with every stroke. Every time I though that sensitive part of my tongue was going to be rational again, he HAD to make it daydream again… It was plunged into a waterspout of intense heavenly flavour.
The full moon appeared in the lonely night.
I've always been selfish.
I never wanted love. There are so many instances of love in the world. Even if I love him and he loves me, we would just be 'one of them'. Nothing special. I want something unique, something only the two of us share. Something only I can give him and only he can give me.
And he gave me exactly that.
How could I ever have doubted him?