I bite your lower lip gently and you reward me with a soft moan. We continue kissing and I keep my eyes closed because I know you're looking at me. You've done it all the time since you came here and it confuses me so bad, what is it that you so desperately want to see? A miracle? You know there are no such things as miracles - I stopped believing in those a long time ago. I thought everybody did?
There's not much to me now (never was). What there is, is too pale lashes across freckled cheeks, dirty brown hair in strands around my face, a too skinny frame and a smile that always manage to look a little askew, a little misplaced, there's nothing pretty in the washed out blue that are my eyes, and I hide no secrets. They are written all over me, clearly for you to see, if you wanted to. Can looking be a way of not seeing for you, I wonder as your hands slide lower down my body, teasing me. It tingles, it burns and sometimes it even aches, that weird wanting you make me feel. You make me want life. Oh so bad.
It feels like it wasn't long ago we met, working long hours side by side, an never ending line of customers, not time to communicate more then an occasional "please get that, or we're out of that". When closing time came we were both too tired to share words, but we shared other things; sweaty t-shirts sticking to our backs, arms that were supposed to be tanned but weren't since we're inside all the time (and mine because of other reasons), a mug of water, and our road home. We walked the same way for almost five minutes; five minutes can be a long time between two boys. They can mean everything and they can mean nothing, what they meant for me I still don't know. I tagged along and watched your feet move across the concrete, rather small for being a boy your height, not like mine even though I'm shorter than you. Grandmother calls them boats, sometimes it makes me feel bad, but most times I don't care. I do care the few times they make me stumble and fall, when they refuse to carry me and I am too weak. Those times I despise being me. I think you knew from the first day, didn't you? Everything?
I ask without words and you chose not to hear, instead you whisper something to my neck. It's not normal language, it's tongue against skin, it's soft breathes that cools heath, it's mumbled and crisscrossed out, but it says a lot. Actually, it says everything…
We walked those minutes together many days, some days we talked, some days we didn't, but it was always little and not so special. Nothing that should have started this, nothing that really broke my chains of thoughts, nothing that made you what I think you are. It was stupid things about the weather, about showering, about eating, about how much we hated work, nothing about me and what brought me here… and then the smile before we broke apart. Now looking back at it, I think that's what caught me. Your smile, clichéd oh yes I know. But since when did clichéd become something wrong? Maybe it was what I needed then… need now. A get-away.
You smiled, and I smiled, nothing unusual by that, a wave and then different roads home. But the smile stuck, I caught myself thinking about it while eating and sometimes it kept me from throwing everything up again, then grandmother smiled too and I felt proud, I felt like I fought a war and came out of it as a winner, not like the beaten up loser I used to be. I got stronger those summer months, I did, but they tired me out too. I guess nothing good comes without something bad hiding in the shadows. But you know, it was worth it, worth this, I think that while dragging my fingers trough your dark hair, short and spiky. If I pet it the wrong way it tickles the palm of my hand. I do this now and a small giggle escapes my mouth.
You look sad when you hear that small laughter and I know why. But I chose to ignore it; instead I continue what we were doing. My fingertips plays across your skin, feeling your sides up and down, gently stroking your ribs where they can be felt, touching you they way I know you like to be touched (I'm a fast learner). Your reaction is as expected, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering and that cute little sound, something like a cross between a moan and a yelp. I bite your neck some more, soft of course and I try not to feel the tiredness inside, the weakness. You know, and you push away, separating us a few inches and instantly I'm cold. I wanted this you know, right here, right now. The radio plays something stupid that doesn't fit while I look into your eyes, and somewhere in the background the machine beeps, letting me know I am alive.
Like if I didn't know that, like if I didn't already count every single second that is given to me?
Mother accused this summer of getting me here, of the progress going so fast, of killing away so many of my months. I don't accuse this summer for anything, it was what I wanted. For once I was normal, for once I was… I was a kid, a teenager, someone working over summer, visiting a far away place, falling in love, doing all the things I pretty much just read about before. You pull me close again, but this time without the tension, without the edge. I know this touch from before; it's the one that screams "I'm so scared of losing you". Given to me practically everyday by everyone in different shapes, but I recognise them all, a look, a hug, a glance, a handshake, it's written all over me and it's all the same. I can't get away from it. There's no medication against dying. I look at you and you close your eyes, nestling yourself against my side in the small, small bed I have to call mine these days, covering there like if you were the sick one, the one needing all the comfort in the world. Maybe you are?
… because after all, I'm the one leaving and you're the one that gets to stay, and sometimes staying behind just might be the hardest part.
One day this summer when we walked home like we used to you stopped rather abruptly and it brought me out of my daydreams, snapped my head up from its bowed down position. We hadn't talked at all that day, perhaps it was too hot or maybe too humid, maybe we had worked too hard, I can't remember that correctly and I don't really think it matters. But you stopped and I nearly walked right into you, since I always tended to trail a step behind no matter how slow you walked. You turned around and I think I drowned in that moment, all the oxygen disappeared and I gasped for breath. My cheeks got red, and I looked away because your brown eyes burnt holes in me.
The next thing I remember is my back being pressed against the yellow brick wall beside us, my t-shirt riding high against the pressure and exposing my back to the rough stones (I had scratches the next day, red and rather swollen, I never did tell you that) and your mouth feverishly meting mine. Lips against lips, and teeth crashing against teeth because of the eagerness. Weirdly enough I didn't hesitate at all, it was as we already talked about, like if we already knew this had to come. What hit me was how clumsy, how unperfectly perfect it was, my first kiss. I was amazed by having to tiptoe to kiss you back (I never noticed how tall you were until then). When you paused for a second and broke away for air I think I surprised you by wrapping my arms around your neck and pulling you closer then before. Suddenly the sun didn't burn anymore, the only thing that burnt were all those empty spaces were your body wasn't pressed against mine. After that the summer seemed to rush by, my world revolved around you, and I can honestly say that your world revolved around me too. The hours at work gave us a good excuse to just stare at each others, notice the tiniest of things. Of course we got the orders wrong sometimes, and we got a few complaints for staying in the bathroom too long (odd how we always needed to go at the same time).
I'll never forget the first time you followed me in there, a few days after our kiss, a few days of only holding hands when walking home and a quick peek on the cheek before separating. You came in there, the black and white tiles framing you, with flour staining your t-shirt and the apron still tied around your middle. I was washing my hands when you snuck your arms around me and leaned your chin against my shoulder. Your fingers innocently (or not?), finding there way underneath my shirt. In the mirror I could see my own blush as your hands went higher (and lower too). It was never any questionmarks when it came to us, being together felt natural and nothing you ever did scared me.
It was all so new to me. That skin and flesh held such sensations, how soft another human being can be, and the taste of lips, oh that sweet taste. I can't get enough of it, it's better then the morphine they give me against the pain, better then those Sunday mornings when I can see the sunrise from my window and that nice nurse always makes me pancakes (that I usually can't eat, but that's beside the point), sometimes it's even better then being five years old again and unaware.
You snore now and I find it cute how easy you fall asleep. Your lashes look beautiful against your cheeks and I'm painfully aware that soon I won't be the one kissing your eyelids goodnight anymore. I never thought you'd come this far, that you'd travel all this way just to see me once more, it warms me up inside knowing I was more to you then just a fling. It means so much, and I wish I could express it better. I'm clumsy with words; they become big in my mouth and stick against my tongue. There are so many things I'd like to say right now, a thousand excuses and a million I love yous. You gave me everything I ever dreamt about; I just wish I could hold on to it a bit longer, give you at least one more summer.
I want (and pray for) a few more golden days bathing in glittering sunshine and stupid smiles. I want to get high on air and green grass, I want to play ball in your garden and make out inside your room, I want to work from dawn to noon and watch you sleep under a naked sky, I want so much and all I have is the memories because there'll be no more summer for me, there'll be no more of nothing but you beside me in this ugly bed. Itchy covers against our backs and no privacy, mostly rain outside my window and everything in here smells unclean, smells of what is coming. I know it makes you uncomfortable seeing me here, being here, laying here, kissing me here, touching me here, talking with me here… it kills some of the magic that was this summer, was us.
Your eyes got so wide the first side you stepped inside this room, you stared at the bundle in the bed being me, at my bones shining trough on all the wrong places ( "I'll cut myself on those hipbones of yours" was one of the first things you said after kissing me hello and pressing yourself close). I knew I looked a mess, but honestly I had tried that day, I dressed up nicely and tried to tame some of my hair down. But I can't help that everything is too big these days and that all the medication they give me makes me tired. You brought me music, candy and a smile. I treasured the smile dearest (I missed it so bad when we had to say goodbye and you knew me for real). It's in my heart now always and forever, I'll take it with me when I go. It's in there, holding hands with our summer and the smell of the ocean. You curl closer and breathe in a little deeper, and with one arm around me I think I hear you mumble; I'll never forget… and with that I can close my eyes too.