Dancing In the Shadows
-Original Fiction-
pure
by shuuki
pure emotion.. how can i put it on paper? he's gone now... he said he'd come back... this ache holds me in its grip... here where it's warm and quiet and i'm surrounded by people who love me
i curl up in the corner with my notebook, hugging it to me between my chest and knees. the sun streams in the windows of late afternoon. i watch it hit the wooden floor as if it had nothing to do with me.
he said he'd come back...
i can feel his black hair under my fingers. I curl my hand around my pencil... he was so small in my arms... his skin was always so warm... burning away... his little heart fluttering in his chest like a bird trying to escape...
he was always restless but his eyes were always clear... he'd look up at me and i felt like i could be strong... now i can't think about it without crying... i can't even write of it... my tablet is my scorned enemy... Z gave me a laptop but i hate those things...
i always wanted to touch his face... to feel his skin... but I had nothing to offer him... i could never be enough for him... my feelings... well they're just feelings after all aren't they?
in a migrating society there was no way I could hope he'd follow me... i was like a big brother... heh, i never even see my brother except on holidays... ties are meaningless anymore...
but he loved me... i know he did... i couldn't ask for any more than that... the very idea warmed my entire being better than sunshine. I could throw away my journal for him and become a poet.
if only he were near me... the only one who really understood me...
i watch those groups and their parades and rallies... i watch those queens make out on the corner late Saturday night... I have nothing in common with them...
i just met someone who...connected...someone with an honest heart...someone i wanted to protect... someone who made me feel honest about myself... i didn't have to pretend to be something else for him... just me
but he's gone now
he said he'd come back
sometimes i'd watch him sleep for hours... i wonder if he knew i was watching... i would have liked to have sculpted his face - his perfect little nose, his mischievous eyes, the curl of his long lashes...
god i'd give anything to touch him... i said I was content to watch him run ahead of me... under flowering trees over brick sidewalks... the sun shining in his open, laughing eyes
but i'm a liar...
i run my hand through my hair and sigh again. i rest my head on my knees and drift a bit...it's been days since i slept
he said he'd come back... five months and he'd return... i wonder if he'll let me hold him again... hold him in my room with the summer night wind blowing thru my curtains…
i have nothing to offer him... nothing that can last... beauty fades and he'll forget me... but it's better that way for him... i'd never stand in his way
i smile anyway... my steam is running out and I drift deeper, dreaming lightly of the summer sun... whose face could never rival that of my beloved's....
I woke up and it was raining...
My neck was stiff from hours curled tight in the corner. Z was standing there in the doorway, arms crossed, saying nothing.
"what?" I asked as I rubbed my neck and stretched.
"you're thinking of him again aren't you?" she always stabbed for the heart of things.
"so what?"
"so I'm tired of watching my best friend give himself spinal damage over some kid."
I sigh… I've been doing that so much lately… "if you're so concerned, why don't you get over here and give me a massage?"
She surprises me by walking over and kneeling down behind me. No flippant remark? She grabs my knotted flesh and kneads it with her strong hands… I melt and almost moan under the touch - I must be more tense than I'd realized…
She massages in silence for a good ten minutes…I'm almost asleep again it feels so damn good… she slows and finishes me off with a feather-light back scratch. By now I'm a puddle of goo…
She doesn't move off right away. She hovers behind me with her hands on my shoulders… I'm only vaguely aware.
"did you think about Emi?" the voice is flat but not accusing…
I open my eyes slowly. "Of course I have…"
Emi…
It's been almost two years now… she's beautiful… red hair to her waist (I've always had a thing for red heads), fair skin, full breasts, naturally slender… the picture of femininity but enough of a tomboy to make her fun. Two years she's lived here with me and Z.
I put my head in my hands… Z's still quiet.
Emi's so clueless… or at least she acts so. She thinks it's cute how I dote over him… how I stay up till the wee hours of the morning, running up my phone bill, calling half way around the world just to hear his voice. I guess she thinks of him as the younger brother I never had. I can't remember ever thinking of him like that…
I bury myself a bit deeper in my hands, tucking them between my legs. I'd always been a romantic. Emi was never short on flowers, gifts, and soft words… I'd made the decision when I met her that I would treat her better than I'd treated any other girl… that I would be good to someone and depend on myself… that I'd be a noble adult and a romantic…
As a romantic I was naturally an idealist. Love happened; it was not made. But as an "adult" I found there was compromise and practicality… god I've grown tired of being an adult already. He makes me feel free… and reckless thoughts grow wild in my heart like brambles dripping with sweet berries… something inside reminds me to be careful… i… I think I would break if I hindered him… if I stopped my world for him and it hurt him…
My heart sinks at the picture of tears in Emi's eyes that forms in my head… I think of the terrible names my mother would call me and the cold look in my father's eyes. With one swift stroke of selfishness, I could collapse this good life of mine… even just to mention the idea.
Z left me for the evening... i didn’t move from that room. I waited... and i took a breath... and i watched as the stroke came down... and it all collapsed...
I opened my hand... but there was nothing i could do.
And then... I was alone.
What exactly does it take to be strong? Does being strong mean being alone? Does it mean being content with one’s own self... so that alone doesn’t hurt so much? I don’t know if I like this being strong stuff...
Am i really so pathetic? I thought I’d come a long way... a long way from those wasted days... naiveté ... self-absorbedness ... tears ... always crying. I was so serious... about everything. I’d never known such people existed... that they could stir me so deeply... or that they could be so temporal. I blamed myself all the time... But that was a long time ago... damn him for making me remember all that.
Being alone... it means feeling as if you are the only one who can really hear the music when it’s playing. Heartbreak... it means knowing you’ve found someone who can hear it too... but they can’t stay with you. Betrayal... it’s when they choose to leave you with a smile.
Am i really so ungrateful? I really do feel as if no one loves me... the only one who understood me... i clutch at my pillow and bury my face deeper in the fabric... he was too young. No one’s coming to get me... i begin to sob again... heh, all the beauty of this world doesn’t seem to be worth a fuck when there’s no one to see it with... I really am ungrateful...
- to be continued?