(the title is from a Spill Canvas song entitled "Lust a Prima Vista").

"Oh... oh, god." Groaning, his eyelids fluttered several times, immitating R.E.M. sleep as I felt him ejaculate inside me. Falling down in exhaustion on the bed beside me, a blanket of sweat coating his muscular chest. His stomach rose and fell with fury as he struggled to catch his breath.

Looking over at him, my pale green eyes slowly took in his features: his closed, navy blue eyes; his sparkling white, dentist-treated teeth; his grown-in five o' clock shadow; his Adam's Apple, which jumped every time he laughed or swallowed; those full lips that had so many times kissed every inch of my body. As my eyes surveyed lower, my thoughts became a little more indiscrete.

Hearing his laughter ripped me from my moments of reminiscence. Jumping as he startled me, my eyes instinctively rose to meet his again. "You're always so wonderful." He smiled softly, raising his hand to brush his fingers against my cheek. As sweet as the compliment had been, I knew his true meaning. My heart fell as I was reminded he was only referring to our little "rendezvous". Forcing a smile to dance across my lips, I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

Despite everything, I still cared for him. I knew he felt nothing for me, but I could not stop my heart. When I was scared-- when I was hurt-- he was always the first one I would run to. And, without fail, he would always pick me up in his arms and hold me. His touch made all the demons go away. And, within those brief moments of genuine affection, I truly believed that he did care about me.

But I would always, always be wrong.

Pulling back the white sheets of the hotel room's bed, he turned his back to me. With legs over the side, he grabbed his pants from the floor and slid them on. Knowing what he was planning (but hoping to be proven otherwise), I spoke up. "Patrick, where are you going?"

Without so much as a glance backwards, Patrick reached for his shirt and put that on as well. "Denise is going to get suspicious again if I get home too late. I've gotta go, babe."

"But what about me?" I voiced, heartbroken like a little girl who had been denied her favorite toy. The inquiry came out before I could stop myself. It was a question I had always wanted to ask, but had never dared.

The answer I received was one I should have expected. Finally turning to me, Patrick's eyebrows were cross in both confusion and hostility. "What about you?" He asked.

Once again, my heart shattered. Like a bullet through an antique piece of glass, my heart was just as irreplacable. Getting quiet, my head lowered to stare at my knees beneath the blankets. I couldn't fight back; I couldn't defend myself. I had always wondered that myself: what about me?

Noticing he had struck a nerve, he immediately made the rebound. Jumping to my side, he sat down beside me. "Angelica, darling..." His words were like flower petals to my ears. Trying to fight the sweet yet uncomforting words, I turned my face away from him. But he was determined not to leave me upset. He reached out his hand once more to gently brush his fingers down my cheek to my neck. Losing all resistence, I glanced over at him. He knew all my weaknesses; and manipulated them well. "You gonna be alright?" He asked finally after rubbing his fingers against my skin for several moments.

Sighing heavily, I had no fighting power left. Nodding my head, I submitted to his will once again. "That's my girl." Patrick smiled, leaning forward and placing a singular kiss on my forehead. He got up from the bed after that and grabbed his remaining attire. Without a single word, he walked to the door. He threw me one last glance and a small smile before leaving the room for good.

Breathing out slowly, my broken heart lodged itself in my throat as my vision became blurred through a river of tears. Clutching the blankets to cover my chest, the familiar pain of loss and neglect swam throughout my body. I hated him each time he left; but I knew that I wouldn't allow myself to completely dismiss him.

I loved him; and living with unrequited love was better than surviving without him.

Fin.