Damn. I thought I said no thinking. Why is it then that ever since I got home all I've thought about, tried to not think about was…him.
Last night. I keep telling myself it wasn't wrong. That's what he would've told me too, were he here. I'm still baffled by how easily it came to pass. How natural it seemed.
Yet, why does it still plague my mind? My guilty conscience says that anything like that is bad. I shouldn't. I cant allow myself to do that. I don't deserve it, I blatantly realize.
It hits me like a ton of bricks, to quote the saying. I have to say, though, that's what it does feel like. Like a weight on my chest, making me rock back and look again, though it hurts to do so.
I deny myself the things I crave most because I feel I don't deserve it. Human companionship, the essential part of every person's life, yet I deny myself. I shut myself off. Some say I put up walls, but they don't even realize.
I have bunkers, barriers, walls, towers, barricades, and lock boxes. Everything is shut off. If I don't get attached, I cant hurt them. And it will hurt me less if they do get hurt. But last night, he changed all that.
In one night, one weak moment, I allowed those fortifications to come crumbling down. One blow, sure and steady, had crushed them, revealing my true self before him. And for as scared as I was, it was a relief.
I don't have to bear this burden by myself anymore. Sharing it was so…liberating. I'm still not adapting to it yet. At least he's giving me space. God, he knows me too well. The one thing I needed the most after that, I never had to ask. No pressure. No demands. Just, understanding. Yes, that's it, he understands me.
I'm just realizing that we hardly spoke at all last night. I'm still confused as to how it actually came about.
Fussing over that tiny scratch. Mother-henning me. Drives me crazy, and he knows it. But he wouldn't let it go. After an exasperated "Fine!" I conceded defeat, sitting backwards in the chair so he could reach my shoulder blade.
Of course, I had to take off my shirt, revealing my sports bra underneath. Not that I cared. Business as usual. Got a wound, take care of it. But seriously, it was nothing. I wasn't going to die of tetanus, I wasn't going to get an infection. I was clumsy vaulting over that barbed wire fence, that's all. I hadn't even noticed it, but he had seen the slight bloodstain growing upon my shirt.
His hands. They were the key to unlocking me. The hands that could kill, manipulate, fix things, get dirty, take apart a gun and reassemble it in mere seconds, deadly hands. Yet, when they touched my back, were gentle as silk. Patched me up.
Finished with their task, they lingered still upon my back. Tracing gentle circles and lines up and down, around my back. Gliding upon my neck, sensing the tense muscles lying concealed beneath. Suddenly, yet gradually, the pressure increases, drawing out the kinks and seeking the places of tension in my shoulders. Light again, caressing my neck. I hadn't realized it, but my head had sunk and my chin rested against the back of the chair.
My eyes were drifting closed, opening again, my head making small movements back and forth in response to the penetrating touch of his hands. Suddenly, he stopped. Reality came rushing back. Belated clarity made me realize my walls were down. I was vulnerable, open for attack. How had I let myself become this way?
I spun about, rising from the chair, moving around it, an unconscious barrier between him and I. My eyes found his, and in that single instant, the walls came crumbling down again. The hastily erected barricades couldn't withstand the look in those eyes. They softened me, to the core.
I think he saw the shift in me, for he advanced. Cautiously, like one might approach a frightened animal, void of any hostility or threatening gestures. Each step measured, he reached my sooner than I had ever imagined possible. How could he sneak up on me like that? Yet, I had seen him coming, seen every placement of foot before the other, until he was there. In front of me. Immovable.
Thoughts flickered across my consciousness, faster than reflexes, rapid-fire, yet as fast as they came, they left just as quickly when he reached out and touched my bare shoulder. My hand drifted up, inexplicably, to his face, a face I'd never really taken the time to consider before.
He'd always just been Alec, that's it. I'd never noticed the way his cheekbones accented his gorgeous blue eyes. The way his lips quirked unconsciously, warming the expression in his eyes, his whole face transforming from one simple gesture.