If I could open my arms,
And span the length of the isle of Manhattan,
I'd bring it to where you are,
Making a lake of the East River and Hudson.
And if I could open my mouth,
Wide enough for a marching band to march out,
They would make your name sing,
And bend through alleys and bounce off other buildings.

-Marching Bands of Manhattan by Death Cab for Cutie

There is an unopened envelope on Kathryn's table.

The clock hands are being held back by insistent invisible hands. Hands tugging like children begging their mother not to leave. Her bags are packed everything is ready. A week since their amusing 'encounter'.

You're ready? Anton asks from outside and she's just there with a towel wrapped around her body her hair dripping wet staring at the white envelope with the disgusting handwriting. The water slides down her chest her back drip drip dripping still. The sunlight hurts her eyes. She looks around the room, at the spot where there used to be a stain. It's spotless now.

The phone rings and she jumps.

She picks it up just to stop that ringing that loud shrill ringing.

"Yes?"

It's really you, Sebastian replies. Then, more slowly, as though tasting each letter. It's really you.

She looks at the letter again, a letter undoubtedly full of sarcasm and wit and bittersweet fondness.

Listen to me, says Sebastian. Just listen.

She locks the door.

And listens.

You and I both know that it's me you want inside that house with you, he says. You and I both know it's me you want to travel all over fucking Europe with.

And listens.

Just say one more goddamn word, Kathryn. Sebastian's voice is raspy.

Fuck you, he continues after about ten seconds of silence. Fuck you for being so cruel. Fuck me for liking you, for liking this twisted shit we have going on. I'll prove it to you. I can, you know. I'll prove that it's just me, the love of your fucking life. Because you said it, remember? You fucking said it before, only you said you died. Well you didn't fucking die, did you? Not really.

Anton knocks and she jumps. Covering the mouthpiece, she tells him she'll need a few minutes to get ready. Then she kisses his cold lips.

I'll prove it, that I'm the only one who gets under your skin like this, all hot and bothered.

His voice lowers.

Because right now you're thinking about it, aren't you? About letting me win. Or maybe it's not about me winning. Maybe you're just thinking that I was the one who knocked earlier. That it was my mouth you kissed. Yeah, I know you probably kissed him. You kissed him because you were forcing me out of your head the way you're forcing him out of your room.

She feels very warm now.

The things I want to do to you, Sebastian says. So many, many, many things.

First, to look at you. Really, really look at you because I haven't really seen you for a while. I'll look at you and enjoy the sight of you breathing, enjoy the sight of you staring back at me. You have no idea how pleasurable that would feel, Kathryn. You've deprived me of that for years, and just looking at you again would be like recapturing something I've lost. I will take my time because it makes sense to take my time.

Then, I'll move closer. Until I hear you breathing. That close. So close. I'll run my fingers through your hair. Long, short, whatever the fuck it is. I don't care if you've shaved your fucking head and it'll prickle my skin. I'll still do it, and it'll still feel the same. Still soft.

Then, my thumbs will caress your cheekbones. And I will make you look at me. I will make you see the man I have become. I will make you see the effect of all this waiting, of all these games. The hunger in my eyes will be so apparent you will feel mildly alarmed by it. You wouldn't know whether it is my intention to punish you or to love you.

And you will like the uncertainty, I'm sure of that.

My real intention, however, will remain a mystery. Right now, for example. You don't know why I'm doing this, why I'm being so persistent. Whether I love you or hate you for making me think that I killed you, one thing remains constant.

That I want you. To fuck you, to kiss you, to shove my tongue in your mouth in your cunt and taste you in every way possible. I'd like that very much. To press you against the wall, against the mattress, to hear you gasp and pant and call me Sebbie, your delightful once-little Sebbie.

He stops talking. The back of her head hits the door with a dull thud. She rolls her head back, mouth half open, eyes on the ceiling. Staring.

Kathryn, he says. You remember that day when we were thirteen? Remember? We took our clothes off and we did things, only you wouldn't let me fuck you because you were still a virgin. Remember?

He starts breathing. Hard. And she blushes once she realizes once she imagines once she sees him so clearly and it's like he is pulling her to him, just the way he breathes the way the way he his throat makes a sort of strangled sound.

Where's your other hand, Sebbie? She wants to ask, but she doesn't say anything.

Remember? He asks through all that heavy breathing and she wants to laugh and call him a freak a pervert, she wants to gloat to mock him because he gave up first, he gave up and now she's gotten him she's reduced him to this hormonal masturbating man. And then it will be game over and she will have won.

You took my hand and placed it on your left breast, but I removed it and touched your face, remember? Continued Sebastian in all his heavy sighing, thinking about her and the memory of them.

She remembers.

Do it, his growls, you know you want to. Indulge in this little kink with me. A little preview of things to come. He laughs a little, gone is his sweet-talking, his nostalgia of that wonderful day together. Fuck oh god fuck. He pants, and she imagines him with his hand wrapped around his penis up and down squeezing as tightly as he is squeezing her heart with his voice.

Touch yourself for me, he says.

Before she knows it, she's on the floor, her hand has a life of its own. Like it belongs to him now and she touches the warmth grows the moisture increases the pleasure forces sounds out her mouth and for a while they don't talk they just communicate with sounds like they are meeting inside the telephone with the holes on the receiver for windows. They are trapped inside the phone, basking in the darkness, groaning writhing feverish with images of each other as thirteen year olds that day they first became enamored with each other and then the images of who they were as teenagers, and then who they were now.

I remember how you tasted how you looked at me, whispers Sebastian.

She breathes. Like it's him inside her and as much as possible she tries to stifle the moans because she doesn't want him to know that he's winning this little battle even though it's clear that he knows. He doesn't gloat. He carries her off somewhere with his words, an alternation of dirty phrases and gentle calls.

I'm close, he says, then his words are all jumbled up closecloseclose oh godKathryn.

And her fingers (which he controls) do something like he really is in control of them, some sort of little flick, little prod and she can't help it she bangs her head against the door again, harder this time, to somewhat hide the low guttural cry of pleasure that battles its way out of her.

Fuck, his voice shakes. Sebbie.

They are quiet for a while.

You know, Sebastian says. If we do something incredibly stupid like fall in love, this would be a hell of a way to tell our story.

Her bones still feel soft and she's still trying to grasp what happened.

Anton knocks again. Are you okay in there, sweetheart?

Um… yes. Be right out. Kathryn replies.

Meet me, Sebastian urges. I don't care where, as long as it's in the immediate future.

And then the tables turn. Because she hears the desperation the longing in his voice the way sharks smell blood.

Sebastian,

He seems shocked at the sound of her voice. But he quickly responds.
What?

You're such a little shit,

You're such a little tease, he replies.

She laughs and he laughs and then they share another long silence.

I'm leaving, she says. I have to go get changed but I'm leaving after. For a while, you know that.

Yes, I know.

Okay, bye.

But when will I see you? His voice! She has to smile at the tone, the mixture of petulance with hopefulness, all attempting to be covered up by the usual arrogant Sebastian-tone.

Soon, she says. When we're both ready.

I'll call you, he promises. While you're off with the predictably handsome boyfriend.

Needy, are we?

Yes, well, he says gruffly. All games aside, I fucking miss you, you horny cunt. And I know you're not going to say you miss me back because of that pride of yours. However, feel free to say something that doesn't make any sense whatsoever like 'the sky is turning purple this Wednesday to confirm that a part of you fucking misses me too.

She blinks and thinks and says.

Quietly.

There's no need for lame nonsensical sentences, Sebastian.

You know I do.

But not as much as you think. She is quick to add before she hangs up.

But not before he says:

Liar.

Voicing out the subliminal parasite attached to her hasty addition.

A/N: Um thanks I guess, for not thinking it bites. I'm sorry, I know I owe at least two more chapters for DC. But I'm severely swamped these days, you've no idea. Anyway, that's pretty much it. Hope you guys at least enjoyed this one! And yes, they will be meeting soon.