Closing his eyes and hugging her tight, he sighed. That kiss had
been an important first step. His lack of control had taught them something
new that for him appeared more attractive than anything he had tasted before.
He had wished for that for years. He had imagined that coming out a thousand
different ways. And, although shy, he felt then as a child that discovers
the flavour of sweets. The first string of the few left pulling them apart
had been cut, and his self-control weakened. If it depended on him they
would run to a church at that very moment. It was not as if he hadn't thought
about it!
Nevertheless, while the warmth of the contact that her mouth, against his, had left on his skin was evanescing, to bring him back the environmental temperature, he felt loss, hidden in his chest. He had kissed her. He had kissed her and... strangely enough, the world had not broken down. That much time expecting it, wishing, having to stop himself.... and it had not even been... especial. He loved her, he adored her, and this conscience made him find the reasons for his sadness. She was the centre of his world and the only sense in his life was to make her happy. If, as it seemed, he was the chosen to love her and honour her for the rest of their life, he ought to make sure that he accomplished it. In other words, that he wanted to do all that, if it was him who had to, special. Too much he knew her to lose everything because of avoidable mistakes. And, though she was not perhaps the most romantic girl in the world, or, at least, that he had never seen that part of her, that did not mean that a bit of attention did not make her feel special. He could see it in her eyes. He wanted her to be happy. Show her how much he loved her. Make her feel loved. And that was a problem, in a certain way. For, what should he choose, the spontaneous and sincere love declaration, just like it poured from his heart, what would be proper for them, having in mind the intimacy they shared, or, on the other hand, a more prepared and organised beginning, what would make her feel how much he cared...? He would choose the second one without too much hesitation, but he ignored how long it would take him to be able to carry such a preparation out... and to plan it too much, otherwise, would belittle its meaning and spontaneousness. Of course that... what was he doing worrying about how to tell her if there were still centuries left until he got enough valour to let her know? Needless to say, he had never brushed her lips before – and how sweet they were, so smooth, so desirable, addicting him more to her if that was possible – but probably, and knowing them, that change would mean nothing in short. Therefore, there was no reason to worry! Nothing had drastically changed between them for years. In fact, as long as he could remember. If he had to come out with a plan for making her his... well, he would... when the moment grew closer... wouldn't he?
Doubting once again. Though he would rather always be in doubt hugging her like at that moment. It was much more comfortable than doubting, as he was so used to, in bed!
A satisfied whisper from her brought him out of his inner circuit that, all and all, he knew so well. He tightened his grip around her and made a light kiss on her neck. How strange they were...! And, in the end, what had that kiss that had accidentally left his lips meant? Where did that leave them? What did it mean for her, what was the hunger that he had seen in her eyes supposed to be? Too excited to fall asleep in her arms, too shy to ask her any questions, he only moved his head delicately from left to right, caressing her while doing so. She laughed softly and ran one hand through his hair, messing it.
"Am I tickling you...?", he asked, letting her go a bit to look at her.
"Yes... but... they're not exactly tickles..." she answered.
"I know...", he conceded. "But do you like them...?"
Her answer was a total nod.
"Listen here, hotshot...", she asked after a pause. "Why don't you come live here...?"
He looked at her, very surprised.
"But... hadn't you just said that... you didn't want me to...?"
She nodded.
"Yes, I know that I said no... that I had my reasons... But the truth is that I can't find one single acceptable reason, right now..."
"That means that you're not searching enough. If you had them before, now you do too. And, if you don't want me to come, I don't want to come either. I want you to be totally convinced."
"I want you to come and live here", she reassured. "I want to, I really do."
"Yes, I know...", he accepted. "But before..."
"But I don't think that anymore!" she cut in.
"Panny...!", he exclaimed, looking at her expressively.
"I can't find any reason for you not to move here, any more...!"
He shot an incredulous glance at her.
"Your privacy", he objected.
"Nah! What do you mean? You occupy my privacy. I wouldn't feel threatened at all by your presence!"
"You would... You are very well living on your own..."
She glanced at him, serious.
"No. My privacy is not a problem."
"It is...!"
"I've said that it isn't...! Look, boy, you know that my attacks of decision do not last very long... Do you want to move here, before I see a lot of inconveniences, or not?"
He slowly shook his head no, despite all what his interior was crying.
"No. You don't want to see the inconvenience now, but I won't stand when you see them and I mean a bother to you."
"You would never...!", she exclaimed, cupping his cheek in her hand to force him to look at her. "Never. And you want to move, I have more space than what I need, we'd be so well living together. What else do you want?"
He looked at her, thoughtful, before answering negatively.
"No. I can't. I'd love to, but... Just a second before you were against this and..."
"I know..." she answered, starting to accept her defeat. "In fact... it's not a great idea, is it? I mean that... nothing has changed... That the reasons we both have for not to live together... that they are still valid, well, they haven't changed...! It... it has no sense..."
He smiled, saddened. The attack of decision, as she had named it, had already past, and he had not used it. But no, it was not decision, although she had named it so. It was nothing but an attack of optimism.
"It would not work, and we could even end up ruining our friendship...", he murmured, supporting her.
But she was not going to give up without a fight.
"You know that nothing would ruin our friendship. After so long, nothing."
"Never mind..." he conceded whilst giving her an incredulous glance. "We will not risk it anyway..."
"But..." she even insisted. "It is so that if we don't ever risk it... we'll never reach further...!"
He looked at her, thoughtful again. Yes, she was right. If they did not risk anything, they would never advance. And he was willing to advance, just not in that direction. If she had asked him, without further commentary, if he wanted to move with her, he, though the conditionality that he would have self-imposed – only if you want me to, Panny -, he would have jumped for joy immediately. But she had her reasons, she did not want him to, there was something stopping her... and he wouldn't intercede. Nothing had changed, notwithstanding the closeness, despite the reality of her lips on his, and her reasons ought to keep being valid, without exception. She did not want it that way. And he would make sure that she did not fool herself and ended disillusioned.
"We will risk everything when the moment comes." he calmly answered.
"Right. Which means no", she said, half annoyed.
"No. You said..."
"You don't even know why I said so!" the woman cut him off.
He assented and looked somewhere else, avoiding her eyes.
"I thought that you wouldn't want to tell me. Was I wrong?"
She clicked her tongue, upset, and looked to the ground.
"No, you were not wrong. But... I've changed my mind... I... I've decided that I want to tell you everything..."
He looked at her again, surprised but not very confident. He also suffered from those attacks. Sometimes you can't hold any longer. Yes, he also suffered from them, it was curious. And, out of experience, he knew that it would disintegrate in a matter of seconds.
"Are you sure...?"
"Yes"
"But you'll regret it..."
"No. Not this time. I want to show you that our friendship is stronger than what you think. That it is possible to be sincere with one another without losing it."
Her voice hid a determination that he had rarely seen in her. Yes, she was a decided girl. She was not as dubious as him. Nevertheless, it had never been necessary for her to take a decision that implied that determination, never when he was to see her, at least. Not even at Cc. In business... she was just – and she worked hard to be able to – one step ahead of them all. She didn't need to risk anything at all.
A light silence grew between them during which they studied each other, staring at each other's eyes with a commodity got out of confidence and acknowledgement. When she spoke at last, he was already convinced of the fact that his girl was able of anything.
"Trunks", she called, although she already had all his attention, forcing his active participation. He knew the game.
"Yes?"
"I want you to move, I want you to live with me."
The man wished he could comment his role with the writer of that conversation. He knew Pan, and he knew that she wanted to establish the grounds of the argument that was about to start. That was the reason why she implicitly asked him if he wanted to move with her. He had to repeat his position. Such was the script; he had to. The problem was that he did not want to. There were little things in the world that he wished more than living under her roof. He did not want to keep the way he had just marked himself.
"No", he answered with a tired sigh.
"Why not?"
He knew that that had all its sense. It was necessary. It was not a stupid game. That was the only reason why he went on.
"We both have our reasons, Panny..."
She nodded, pulling apart a bit to give more perspective to the conversation. She always did so, in reunions; she played with distance until she reached the total and absolute control of the conversation.
"What reasons do you have for not coming to live with the gorgeous woman you have opposite to you...?", she whispered, with a seductive smile.
He had to shyly smile with her provocation.
"I doubt that the beauty I have opposite to me would be totally comfortable living with me."
"Aren't you going to move with anyone? Not even when you get married?"
He knew where she was aiming. He knew her too well to ignore which would be the next reason.
"Of course I will. And, when I do, we will both have to get used to one another. We will have to make concessions, we will lose a lot of the symbols of our independence...", and she nodded, showing him that the supposition of her next words had been right in all. "But", he concluded, "this will be when I marry. I have no right to make you lose your independence and privacy because I'm fed up with my parents."
She stared at the ground, thoughtful.
"When you marry...", she murmured, still deep inside her inner world. Before he could wonder what she could be thinking, the woman looked at him and, because of the way her eyes shone, he feared another reason. "When you marry... will you love her more than me...?"
He did not foresee the trick that, with a sad face, lower lip outstanding a bit and knitted brows, she had made for him, until he was as trapped as he could be.
"No...!", he answered, reassuringly. "Of course not...!"
As soon as he finished answering, her expression became a seductive smile again.
"Will you love her less, then...?"
"No...", he whispered, then realising the strategy.
"Then... why will you give her such a present... and you won't give it to me...?"
"Come on, Panny...!", he prayed, with the same face she had just made for him. "Don't do this to me...! Be easy on me, you know that I have no answer to that...!"
She shrugged, sorrowful.
"Forgive me... I'm sorry. That's enough. It doesn't matter... I'll just insist that I wanted you to come to live with me. Although it might be a horrible idea, from your point of view..."
"Hey!", he cut in. "I haven't said that it was a horrible idea! I would love to move here...!"
"But it's a nonsense... isn't it...?"
He looked at her before answering. Whatever he would say, he would end losing out. The truth, in equality of conditions, used to be right more often.
"It is not. But..."
She nodded and sweetly stroked his hair.
"When you marry..."
Something in her eyes or her voice made him look at her, fearing that she was upset. When he did so, the woman smiled at him, partly confirming his suspicions. Without taking his eyes off of her, he put a hand over her hand, which was still touching his hair.
"If I am to marry..."
She looked at his eyes for an instant and looked down again.
"Of course you will... You'll see..."
"Have I made you sad...?", he asked, very, very softly.
"No... No, don't worry. You know what is the worst?"
"What...?"
"That", she answered, ironically smiling, "if I needed the money to pay the house you would come to live with me. Whereas, if I really want you to come with me, despite being economically self-sufficient, you say no..."
"I thought", he interrupted her, taking her by the chin and lifting her face until she looked at him, "that you had your reasons as well. Am I wrong?"
She nodded.
"I had."
"Not anymore?", he insisted.
"Yes... But... I'm not listening to them..."
"Why not...?"
"Because they are not good reasons... Because I don't want to listen to them. If you start wondering what makes sense, in the end nothing does, don't you think?"
The man agreed with her.
"But, anyway... you should listen to what your head is saying..."
"I am... But I must also listen to what my heart tells me, mustn't I?"
He consented with her again.
"And who wins...?"
"You", she answered, with half a smile. "You win. I'll leave you alone, you don't want to come live with me, so don't come... But promise me that you won't bring the subject up if you are not decided to come live with me. OK...?" She made a pause, waiting for him to answer, and she went on after he nodded. "Let's drop the subject..."
Her sad gesture touched some soft spot in his insides. She really wanted him to live with her, although having reasons for not doing so. And he was dying to share anything, whatever, with her, specially her home. He was letting slide the best chance he had had in years. So what if he lost control like he had done only minutes before? So what if he kissed her, if the wish to kiss her body everywhere – he clearly imagined her laughing, a bit shy, when hearing such a wish – was uncontrollable and his lips met again the source of all form of life, which trapped them as if it never wanted to let go? Losing control had leaded him to kiss the most perfect woman in the universe, losing control had allowed him to see the most beautiful glance in his life, hunger of him accurately reflected in her eyes. And risks? He couldn't remember any! Their friendship endangered? No, never. Everything had been natural, fluid, without leaps or uncomfortableness. One simple and correlated temporal and mystical loss of control. That was all. What he had so long feared to happen when reaching her lips, that she got angry, that she threw him out, that she did not want to ever see him again, not only had not happened but it had all been the opposite: she had wanted more, it had been her who made him lose innocence in their kiss. She was begging him to move with her, not literally begging but trying her hardest to find reasons supporting her, convincing him the best way she knew. What was more, the best way Pan would ever use to plead for her objectives, being dearer her motivation than having really begged.
All and all, she really wanted him to go live with her. Moreover, she affirmed that her friendship, though risked, was not endangered and nothing would ever pull them apart. She was nearly making a declaration of objectives, almost telling him what she wanted and that there would be no casualties in the process.
Perhaps that made it, or perhaps he was not resigned to drop the subject without having decided to move together, but he could not force himself to inactivity. He simply couldn't. Therefore, after quite a while in silence, he returned to the question.
"But... but you have your reasons, haven't you... for not... for me not moving here...?"
He saw the woman smile triumphantly and blushed.
"Toran...", she murmured, making him shiver because of the use of the nickname that only she used. "Must I take it as your conclusion to the subject... or that you are retaking it...?"
He naughtily smiled, knowing what she indeed implied.
"Let's say that I'm retaking it..."
She nodded, making her victorious smile wider, and hugged him forcefully in a rampage.
"I knew it! I knew that you couldn't let it slip!!", she exclaimed in his ear.
He nodded as well and kissed her cheek, totally sharing her happiness.
"Of course not, my hotshot, of course not... Who would ever be able to say no to you...?"
"Then... you're coming, aren't you? You are?", she insisted, to make sure, though her voice clearly indicated that she needed no more security.
"I'm coming to live with you. I'm coming to live here, with you. You want me to, don't you?"
"Yes! Of course I do!! And you...?"
He nodded in response and kissed her cheek again. Yes, of course he would. It was what he wanted, what she wanted, there was no inconvenience but a lot of advantages. Of course he would.
Well, in fact... there was an inconvenience indeed: that she may see any inconvenience at all. He had to make sure.
"But... are you sure that you want me to...? You said before..."
"Yes, I know", she cut him off. "I know what I've said but... I can't see any problem, now..."
Hardly thinking and given that there was nothing that would break their friendship, he simply blurted out what he was thinking, though he was feeling guilty only for thinking that.
"What were your reasons before...?", he innocently asked, not quite realising what his lips were letting come out.
She pulled backwards to look at him for a second before smiling and answering.
"I was afraid that having you living here brought us to celebrate Easter Sunday before the Processions of Palms."
He looked at her, serious, without understanding very well what she meant, though he could perfectly understand what she meant by that expression. Easter Sunday before the Processions of Palms. Sex before marriage.
"Are you joking...?", he asked, choking and unsure.
She shook her head no.
"Not a bit. But you know that I like expressing things in a... different way. This way they are more easily remembered and, when our grandchildren ask you, you will have more details to explain to them...!", she joked. "But I'm not joking. The problem is that you chose the conventional side of it... How improper of you, honey!
He smiled shyly. She was paraphrasing one of her favourites books, and he knew so. Nevertheless, he couldn't understand what she meant with it. Had she so clearly seen his interior to the point of knowing that, given contact enough, he would not be able to hold the desire for her that he had been accumulating for centuries? So little she knew him, so little she trusted him? Of course not...! She meant nothing like that, she could not mean anything of the sort. He waited for her to continue, while the tittle of the book kept popping in his mind, taking its sense from the figure before him. To live, to be with her... all and all, it was not strange. It was incredible.
"Easter Sunday before the Palms", she repeated, thoughtful. "This sentence, we've used it too much. What sense does it have, hotshot?"
He looked at her, sceptical.
"Is there any trick in the question...?"
She shook her head no.
"What does it mean, Trunks...?"
"Well... having sex before being married..."
She nodded.
"Classical, traditional and a bit... antique meaning...", she commented, putting a finger on her lower lip, where it tapped a couple of times. "I did not mean that. That 'Easter' and that 'procession', they will come to us in time, as it will to every lamb. It was not that. As I see it... there are a series of bad moments to pass through, bad moments we have to pass through together, but that we'll make for one another... This is the procession of palms. What we will get in the end, after passing through that small bad moments will be infinitely better than the Easter that we could get jumping over them. But, and this is the problem, it's too easy to jump over them. It is easy to take the fruit without responsibilities, without obligations... This is Easter before the Procession of palms. And, for the sake of our friendship, for the sake of our relationship that goes farther than friendship, Trunks, I don't want this to happen. Far enough we are already going, already we are enough to be cowards. I don't want that living together pushes us further without having walked the steps that makes everything have sense"
He digested her words in silence, looking at her, observing her, drinking them as they were poured from her. He could understand her. He could understand her surprisingly well, as if they were both taking the thoughts out of the same source. Her every word was being given form and volume in his mind, adjusting to his ideas and expectations in an exact way. The comprehension that she was not as ignorant of what had happened inside him as he wanted to believe or, in other words, as how ignorant he was of her, was something that slowly but undeniably arrived. He knew that she knew, that she understood, that she shared with same feeling and passion. He knew that she was dying to live with him, but not that way, not that way. He knew, and for one moment that was enough to confer to him energy and determination like he had rarely felt. He looked at her, and understood that that strength was coming from her, from her and from himself, from what was between them. The window, connecting soul and soul, was open. His hand grabbed the woman's. Under no concept it will be closed. With a movement that he had never even imagined or measured, he pulled her hand. Out of fellow feeling for years, the woman bent just like he had imagined her to, vertiginously approaching him. The little centimetres that kept them apart went by dissolving as he stared into those eyes only , wondering how he'd been able to ignore all that for so long, how he could let so many months pass by. His arm embraced her firmer, feeling the curve of her back, so real in his arms that she was taking reality out of everything else. Her hand, however, climbed his arm, caressing it while climbing, until it was put around his neck. She looked intensely at him.
"Trunks", she said, without any inflexion. "Not this way"
He shook his head, bringing her closer to him.
"Of course not, my love. Not this way", he firmly murmured before bringing her even closer and kissing her lips with the passion he had saved during unending nights, amplified by the energy that they shared.
She received him, stretching her grasp around his neck, and her lips imprisoned his again, more receptive this time, more fighting but less wining. Softly, they went on by exploring each other's lips with their own, both feeling, he was sure, the electrical currents passing through them from head to toe.
Little by little, he started pulling backwards, wondering how many things he would fail, how many things he would make before their procession of palms. She kissed his lips one last time, pulling him closer, before giving in, what almost and, thank god, only almost, made him lose every decision against continuing that kiss forever. It was just too easy to celebrate Easter with Pan...!
When she finally drew apart from him, her beauty took him. If the woman normally was pretty, in that moment, exultant, exalted by love and full of energy, rose cheeks and reddened lips out of contact, then she was gorgeous. Her eyes were sparkling, her hair was messy, let loose , and he could think about nothing but kissing her and kissing her and kissing. He could not help it.
And, although he knew that he had to talk, that he had to explain himself, going through the steps that she had named, the bad moments, he knew that he couldn't, that he was at a loss of words, that he had been wishing for that for too long to be able to think at all after having tasted it. She, keeping her silence and with her eyes locked with his, touched his hair, combing it with her fingers without even being conscious, and he wondered how her hair could be so messy, only to realise instants later that it had been one of his own hands that, following her hand's example, had got lost in her hair, firmly approaching her to him.
Feeling himself trembling from head to toe, he decided to break the silence.
"Not... not this way...", he murmured, noticing that that was the only thing that he could say, but that it wasn't even coming out as a plea or pain, but only dreamily, showing off how dumbfounded he was.
She smiled, not less alienated than him, and clasped his hand.
"Yes. This way, we can. I love you, Trunks."
He clasped her hand as well in response and he knew that there was no need to make differences between love between siblings and what they were both feeling. Without words, they both knew what the other meant.
"I do love you as well, Pan. A lot..."
Anyway, having tried, he would not have been able to make distinctions, for her smile, happier than he had ever seen, and two big tears, when he had never seen Pan crying, rolling down her cheeks, interrupted them, making him feel the power of the window between them both that their deep acknowledgement of each other had opened. Hugging her very tight, he felt how the tears also welled in his eyes and, as he kissed her neck, he let them roll down as well. They were on their first step of the so-called procession of palms. He would have lots of things to explain to their grandchildren. But in those moments, not even the conscience of being about to end the days and nights full of sorrow and indecision meant nothing for him. In those moments, Pan was everything for him. And, inside that 'everything', Pan was his happiness.
TBC