A fog clouded over my chapped lips as I exhaled against the frosted weather. I waited and waited for him to show up. Cradling my legs against my chest, I sat there unsure whether he was gonna show up or not. The thing was, he didn't know I was waiting. So what was the point? If he wasn't going to show up, I would be the one he would find at his doorstep. When the though crossed me, it sounded alarmingly disturbing. Some would even think I had developed an obsession over the man. I denied the whole idea of course, anyone would. I was just very intrigued by him, his personality, the glint in his eye when he knew something I didn't, his odd laugh, his liking towards sweets- maybe I was a bit obsessed. It wasn't healthy nor unhealthy, it was... neutral.
A voice interrupted my thoughts, I didn't catch what it said. I raised my gaze from the once interesting cement to meet eyes that managed to glow against the dark. I shot up from the uncomfortable crouching position and patted on the creases that formed on my clothes. He stared at me with an unreadable expression, "how long have you been waiting?"
"Worth enough to see you again," I answered taking a step forward. He flicked his vision on my hands, he noticed the slight tremors. His fingers brushed against my own and I indulged on the little heat he gave off. The clenching in his jaw was visible and he returned his gaze at me differently this time. Before I could process what it meant, he rushed past me and opened the door. I followed him in silently and removed the fabric strapped across my neck.
"It's a bit messy," he ushered me in the living room. I wandered my eyes around the room. It was... unorganized. He plucked the pieces of cloth on the couch and gestured for me to sit, "I wasn't expecting any guests."
I tight smiled grew on me, "it's fine," I removed my jacked and continued, "I'm not necessarily neat either."
His expression relaxed as he halted from sitting, "I'll go boil a pot." I followed him leaving the room and waited on the couch. We were both falling a part and I wanted to fix it. So I went to find him, in hopes of fixing the crack. We weren't in a relationship, we were a dynamic of some sort. It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't horrible either. It was... different and I grew addicted to it.
I found myself entering the kitchen, watching him silently. "I'm sorry," I finally said.
He stood rigid and shifted his stare on me, "stop."
But I couldn't, "I'm sorry."
He flinched at this and dropped everything, it was out, "will you just- for once, stop this!" He exhaled slowly and held the counter for balance, "for me... do it for me will you?"
A wash of guilt threw me off, "you know I can't." We both drew closer despite the tension. I felt his breath tickle against my skin, just a foot from each other.
"You can't or you wont?" he spoke in a raspy breath, barely audible. I exhaled a shaky breath and flicked my gaze from his lips to those eyes that managed to penetrate me every time. I felt the intensity and he did too.
"I hate you," and that was it. We crushed each other in hunger. Each touch, caress, was filled with longing from impatient waiting. He pushed me to the wall and none too gently, just enough to draw the breath out of me. It was passionate, every bit of it. His fingers intertwined with mine and roughly pressed them above our heads. He was making his dominance known, he had done this before. I was self conscious, but I followed. His tongue trailed to my neck, imprinting a mark I wouldn't forget of tonight.