Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.
A/N:
Going without reviews is like going without food. D :
Love to Zak and YaoiLuver001 : D
Title: The K Squared 100
Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13
Category: South Park
Genre: General/Romance
Collection may contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing
Theme 21: Fistula
(fis-choo-luh): 1.Pathologya narrow passage or duct formed by disease or injury, as one leading from an abscess to a free surface, or from one cavity to another.
It is an infection, deep inside me. I can feel it sitting there, right inside my heart. Its poison, it seethes through my body each time my heart beats. It is painful, because I know exactly what is causing it. It is painful, because even though I know the source, I'm helpless to do anything about it.
I'm warm, and it should be comforting, but instead I feel stifled, caught, trapped. The body nestled up against mine, the arms encircling me; I feel as if I'm imprisoned somewhere, locked away with no escape.
I shift, and blue eyes turn towards me. Lips curve in a smile, and I smile back. I wonder if he can tell that it is hollow, my smile. I wonder if he knows that the only thought that crosses my mind when I look into his blue eyes is that they're the wrong shade.
Still, I lean over to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He grins, reassured, and snuggles in closer, his arms wrapping tighter around my middle. His eyes turn back to the movie we are watching.
That he is watching, rather. I'd forgotten all about the movie. My mind was elsewhere, on other things.
His arms are comfortable around me, and if I close my eyes I can imagine that it is someone else with his arms around me, someone who is so elusive to me as to be almost unreal. I can imagine that it is his arms around me, his hair that I am stroking softly, his body I feel so close to my own.
I can imagine it is his heat that is warming me through these nights.
I open my eyes, look down. The room is dark, and the only light comes from the television screen.
If I squint, just right, and turn my head, the illusion becomes stronger.
The glow of the screen reflects off his hair, and at that moment the scene on the screen changes. To what, I cannot tell, I am not paying attention to it, but its yellowish light is being reflected off those black strands. I narrow my eyes some more, force myself to stop focusing, to let my vision blur.
It is almost blond now, still a different shade, but I can imagine…
I imagine a lot these days. I imagine how it could have been, how it could still be. I imagine that differences don't exist. Or that they don't matter. I imagine that I'm living a life that I actually want to live, with a person I actually want to live it with.
I imagine, and I smile.
I realize that those blue eyes have turned to me again, puzzled, and the lips that had so soon before been turned in a light smile are now slightly pouted. I force myself to keep smiling, even though the illusion is broken. The light has changed, shifting blue-green-orange glinting off ebony.
The pain in my heart grows with the loss of the illusion. I wonder why I continue to do this, why I keep this charade going. I'm only going to end up hurting him, I know. I know, because as hard as I try I can't keep myself from thinking about someone else. I never could. It was never about the black-haired man next to me, but the blond man that is nowhere near me; a man who I haven't seen in years, now, but who continues to plague my thoughts and my dreams.
Lips touch mine, linger softly. He's worried, I can tell, and the guilt rises up again.
I can't help, I know why I do this, why I need this.
I need the release. The infection inside needs some way out, if only a little.
His touches, his caresses, the soft words he says that are meant for my ears only, they don't come from the one I want, but they are enough to allow some of this painful poison in my heart to leech out, to escape.
I am sure that without him, this would all build up until I could take it no more, until it threatened to destroy me, utterly and wholly; without the release he provides, I would be overwhelmed.
And I am sure that that is the only reason why I continue to do this.