somebody who cared.

i remember that i wanted to get drunk just to show him. show them. you know, that i was a whore. and that i'm still me. i remember him telling me to stop. but I didn't. i remember taking off my shirt, while I was straddling my 'crush', when the guy who loved me was right there. watching. hurting.

sober.

i remember not caring. i was buzzed, just buzzed at that point. nowhere near drunk. he was though; the guy underneath me. he was trashed. the guy between my legs, unable to move his arms, but still kissing back - he was trashed. i didn't care.

then i forgot who i was, and i can't remember what else happened.

suddenly, i was being pulled off of him. by him - the guy who loved me, and the other guy - who barely knew me.

i remember getting angry. i remember hating them for stopping me. i wanted to have sex. and they stopped me. i remember thinking, “what kind of men are you?” then I thought, “oh that's right. you guys are my friends.”

you guys care.

and then i remember hating them. hating them so fucking much, that it hurt. for caring. hating them because i couldn't be them. because i wouldn't have their control, their self discipline, if I was ever in their positions. i would have done things i would be regretting right now. except i don't regret. i've never regretted anything in my life.

i remember hating myself. for letting go. hating myself, for losing myself.

i remember telling myself, "you're not doing anything wrong. they're making you do it. they're telling you to kiss them. they're telling you to do things because they want you to. you don't want to. but they're making you... they're making you..."

i asked him - the one who loved me - why he was still there. why he was still making sure i didn’t fuck up, almost three am in the morning.

“because i love you.”

and i remember asking him why - god, why did he love me? "why do you love me?"

the sadness in his voice made me cry. "…i just do." i didn't understand.

"but why? why? i don’t treat you right and i’ve dumped you twice and…i don’t understand." i remember tears, and i remember him wiping them away. i was in his lap, straddling his hips. his arms were the only thing stopping me from falling backwards.

he whispered, “i don’t care.”

it was cold, so cold. and i didn't have a shirt on.

i remember leaning into him, feeling his warmth. pressing my mouth to his neck, his hands rose to my shoulders. he was pushing me away. he was pushing me away.. didn't he say he loved me? my hands had a life of their own that night. they ran up his shoulders, which were somehow suddenly bare. then they were trailing down his chest; his stomach, downward - daring.

i was staring at the glow of his tan skin in the night; it was so.. golden. then i felt his breath on my jaw, moving closer to my mouth. but i remember wanted his neck. not his mouth.

and i remember wanting his hands on me, touching me. warming me.

i was so cold.

---

this is just the beginning, a memory.
(title may be subject change)

names will be introduced in the next chapter.