I will be beside you before long,
“I have to go to Europe, next week,” my whisper sneaked through the darkness, followed by the cig smoke I exhaled.
We were lying naked on the carpet on the floor of my lounge. I felt already the slight sting of chilliness on my skin, but I still didn't want to cover myself. Naked, on the floor, under the thick blanket of darkness.
“But I'll be back,” I promised and turned my head to look at him, as he leaned on his side, propped his elbow on the floor and rested his temple in his palm. He was watching me.
“I'll miss you,” he whispered and smiled.
He might have hated his body, because of that scar, but he surely enjoyed looking at my naked body. He loved touching and kissing it, I knew that, not just because he told me, but I could guess from that passion and “hunger” that seemed to animate him, that seemed to make him want devour me.
“You're so beautiful,” I tried to tell him once, but he dismissed it, like he would have dismissed the idea of the Earth being flat.
He didn't say anything. He didn't get mad at me, but I had this impression, as if touching with the tip of my finger this strange, yet amazing creature that gets so scared that it abruptly closes in on itself and retreats, like a flower closing all its petals into a bud.
Yet, he was beautiful, and no scar could have ruined that. He had a nicely built body, I loved to feel the muscles tensing under my touch on that extremely pale skin of his. And his skin was so perfect, unnaturally flawless, except for the scarred part.
“I will miss you too,” I replied, and lifted my head a bit to kiss his lips.
While we kissed, he took the cig from between my fingers. When we detached from the kiss, he dragged a smoke, as I was watching.
“What is it?” he asked, amused.
I wanted so badly to ask him. I didn't care that I hardly knew anything about him. I didn't know if I would have been able to get through the day knowing that I was so far away from him, that I didn't have any chance to see him. A month. A whole fucking month!
“I was thinking...” I laughed shortly, nervous. “I was thinking whether it would be appropriate at this... moment, to ask you if you'd like to come with me.”
I stood, and looked for the pack near me. I lit another cig, avoiding looking at him, as if he would have been able to see into my eyes in that darkness.
“I will wait here, for you,” he whispered, and, before I could turn, he embraced me from behind and kissed my shoulder blades.
I took with me, to Europe, the sensation of his embrace. I felt it all the time, as if his arms were still around me, protective. I also took with me the cold, soft touch of his kisses on the skin on my upper-back.
And one night I even saw him in my dream. He was sitting on my couch, and I was standing. He had his head leaned forward, and I could see the back of his neck and the intricate pattern of the scar on his skin. He was whispering, telling me that he will wait for me, he will always be there waiting for me, forever and ever, that he will never leave that place, he will just stay there and wait for my return.
“You came with the house,” I joked in my dream and I ran my fingers through his hair. I wanted to chase away his sadness. I wanted him to be the laid back guy that I knew he was in real life. I didn't want him to worry. I didn't want myself to worry. Because there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
He was there, waiting for me. Receiving me in his embrace, placing my head on his chest, touching me with the tips of his fingers, kissing me, helping me undress myself, helping me undress him, revealing the white perfection and smoothness of his skin to the moon’s rays, lying there for me, so I could place kiss after kiss along his torso, as I was intoxicated by his beauty.
“No, I didn't miss you at all,” I was telling him. I didn't miss you a bit. I didn't even count the days, the hours, the minutes, the splits of seconds until I would be back there – just him, the night and I in my bedroom. No, I didn't think about how beautiful he was.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” I whispered to him. “I wish you would realize that there’s nothing wrong with you.”
He was never answering, just allowing me to go on with my kisses along his body, hidden in the veils of darkness. He didn't argue with me, he didn't contradict me. He just wouldn't allow me to see him.
“What is with you?” I was asked.
“What?” I replied almost bursting into laughter at this nonsense question.
“There's something changed about you,” they were saying to me.
“You look happy.”
I was feeling happy. Everything was going great. And even if it wasn't, I knew the moment was close when things would change for the better.
“You have someone new?”
Yes, I had someone new. But I wasn't thinking that. And I wasn't planning to talk about him either, I didn't want to share him with anyone, not even the idea of him in my life.
“Can I come and see you?”
And friends came and saw me, but, for whatever reason, he was never there. At first I didn't mind, at first I was even glad that I still had to keep my secret locked in my heart. After a while though, it was as if he knew someone was to come, even before me telling him. And one time...
I felt him jumping off the bed.
I turned lazily, squinting, bothered by this abrupt detachment of his body from mine, from our embrace. It was so awfully dark, with those blinds covering the windows. It was afternoon.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I forgot...” His rushed movements through the darkness.
“Let me turn the light...”
The sound of the fabric of his clothes as he was putting them on.
“I have to go, I'm late!”
“Pull the blinds a bit, so you can see...”
“No. I'm fine. I'm ready. I'm sorry.”
Kiss on my forehead.
I was off the bed too, naked, freezing, stumbling as I was following him to the door.
“See you soon.” Kiss on my lips. “Bye!”
He was out.
I remained there, in front of the closed door; I stood there, motionless.
I scratched my head. Then I turned around and started walking slowly toward the bedroom.
“What the hell was that?”
I thought then to ask him. To ask him all those questions I hadn't. Did he have someone else? I didn't see any sign on his hand as if wearing a ring. And even if he had someone, I wouldn't have minded that. I would...
The doorbell rang shortly.
“Wait!” I mumbled, annoyed. I took my jeans and put them on, taking my time. The doorbell rang twice this time.
“You didn't forget anything, what is it now?”
The doorbell rang again. I pulled the blinds open and then I walked to the door.
“Have some patience!” I kept muttering.
I opened the door, almost snatching it off its hinges.
“What is it now?”
I froze. It wasn't him.
“You told me to come around this hour,” my friend reminded me. “Is it OK for you?”
Yes, it was. I totally forgot. But how...?
My friend came into the house.
“Man, it's so fucking cold in here!” he commented. “Colder than outside. How can you stay only in your jeans?”
To be continued...