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THE GREY BETWEEN US:
Jessenia
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He sits there, God only knows how long he's been sitting there. Staring blankly at the sky and barely registering the world around him. And I sit here. Watching him. Hardly realizing the world that surrounds me. Sitting here watching him watch the sky. Neither of us caring that we may not see it again.
It is a stupid little thought, really. The fact that it nags me constantly only serves to make it all the more ridiculous. We could die during any one of our missions. We could die at home in bed, too. Nothing is impossible. Especially with a war going on. Somehow it strikes me, though. Maybe it is the way the light hits his face, or the solemn atmosphere in the air around us. I have the distinct feeling that this is final. That this is the last moment that either of us will ever have like this.
I am struck with a sense of resigned sadness, because there is so much I want to know about him. Is in a puzzle with which I am continuously grappling. Always the silence between us. Always the muted looks of silent longing. Silent. I do not know if the silence exists out of fear or because there is simply nothing to say. I do not know what it means, those looks, the exchanges in our secret language that even I can barely speak, only in the heat of the moment can I interpret. I act on instinct. But instinct isn't enough, because when the feeling retreats, and I'm left, looking into his eyes, I cannot tell what it means. What anything means. And yet I cannot voice my questions.
He sighs, and I watch the way his shoulders heave, just slightly. The way his eyes close briefly, the way his hair gets caught in the wind, the way he just fades in to nature. Maybe it's because I've been watching him for so long, but I lost sight of where he ends and the green of the grass and the forest begins. It seems, for a moment, that he has been sitting on that hill since the dawn of time, and will continue to sit there for eternity.
As if nature put him there as a message, but a message of what I cannot decide.
He turns suddenly, and pierces me with deep prussian orbs. I swallow convulsively, not at all ashamed to be caught staring, but somehow I feel embarrassed for being caught sitting there, on that hill. As if I had somehow intruded on a sacred place.
He smiles, an act that startles me. He never smiles. I've never seen it, anyway. The way he smiles makes me clench my fists, wanting to ward myself from the peak of desire that has hit me. Yet he is calling me, in that same silent language that I have heard countless times. It has been casual friendship, always, except when he turns those beautiful eyes on me, and calls. And of course I can't deny him anything. So I lean forward, press a hand to his hip and the other into the grass as I take advantage of his relaxed mouth.
Our tongues spar in an intimate battle, and the heat in my body grows until I break the cardinal rule of maintaining silence, and moan into his warm mouth. He tilts his head, drawing me in further. I move forward, gently pushing him down, until he is lying on the grass, hands gently tugging at my shirt, removing my belt, then, caught in the same urgency that I am, slipping up my chest, longing for a greater contact.
I succumb and, prying myself away, fling my shirt off, then lunge forward, return to the impossible warmth of his body. My hands lose themselves in his hair, savoring the delicate softness of it, then drag lower, down his slender throat, slipping under his tank-top and touching a nipple. His mouth opens in a silent cry and he arches upward as I, after tearing the shirt eagerly from him, replace my hand with my mouth. His hands tug at my waist until I realize what he is asking, and, stunned as I always am, I again obey his wish and remove my pants. Then his.
Two naked boys.
Entwined and entangled. Moaning into the warm wind and shuddering under the sunlight.
Yet we are silent. Mouths open, wanting to scream, but no sound comes. The impossible sensation of throbbing, kicking life, blood racing through our veins, hearts double-timing-tripping over each beat. But in unison. Always in unison. He arches back as I thrust in again, and I take advantage of his vulnerable neck to exploit his weakness. He is surprisingly sensitive. I like that. Despite his cold, removed demeanor, the slightest touch sends him close to the edge on waves of pleasure. I savor the sound of his breath, shuddering as he tries to draw it in. Never before have we been this intense. The idea sends shivers down my spine and I thrust again until we come in unison. Always in unison.
I don't pull out immediately, just kiss him, long and slow, because I never know what to do after I leave him.
Because we never speak.
He smiles again, his eyes shining, looking so unlike himself, and yet more like himself than ever. His head tilts to the side, and again, I know what he is asking for. And I can never deny him anything. So I leave his warmth, though I ache to stay. And he sighs again, eyes closing just for a moment, then sits up. Calmly puts on his clothes. His movements are slow and gentle, so I know that he is not mad, but I still cannot decipher what he is feeling. I can't decipher what I am feeling.
I follow his example and put my clothes on, watching him out of the corner of my eye. When he is finished, he looks back at the sky, a faint smile, resting more in his eyes than his mouth, touches his face, and he turns to me. And then the smile grows until it is a genuine soft smile. It is beautiful, and again the feel of finality comes over me. But the end of what? Our lives? Our friendship? Our love-making?
The smile is still there, but I have never felt more distanced in my entire life. And it is not that he is withholding from me, but that I feel worlds apart from him. I want so much to bridge the gap, but always there is the silence between us. Always there is the muddled mess of grey where our friendship and our love merge into an indecipherable mess. I can never tell what sparks these moments when his eyes ask more of me than my presence. And I cannot tell if he loves me, or if I am simply a higher form of solace for him.
And I cannot tell if I am upset with this. I know I want more. I know I want him as my own, but would rather have this cryptic relationship than our simple friendship, and I would rather have our simple friendship than nothing at all. I will take whatever he offers me, and will give him whatever he asks.
Suddenly I understand the smile. The way his eyes seem to be laughing at me. He felt it too. That odd sense of finality that has followed us out here to this hill. That has tracked us even as we fled from it. He extends a hand, and the smile has faded from his lips, but the laughter is still in his eyes. I take it gratefully, savoring the tender roughness of it.
"Are you ready?" He asks, and the way he says it, I have the feeling that he is not asking me if I want to return, or if I am ready for the mission. I feel my heart catch as I realize what is ending, and it is my turn to smile, a broadly as I have smiled in ages. And I laugh, because I have been waiting, for so long I have been waiting, just for this exact moment.
"Yes." I say, giving his hand a squeeze, fighting to restrain myself from swinging it back and forth like an eager child. "I'm ready." We walk back under the setting sun. And as we leave the hill I feel as if something has been left behind. It is such a strong feeling that I look back over my shoulder, still laughing because I know what it is. The hill stands in lonely silence.
With one smile, the grey turned brilliant, and the isolation was swept aside.
~Fin~
Jessenia: Hey, this was written in a flurry! I really hope you guys enjoyed it. I might go back and toy with it a little, but supportive C&C would SO be appreciated!!
Standard disclaimers apply.