A glimmer was ready to peek through Oliver’s window behind the sheer flowing curtain, spiking her tired eyes with the intensity of a needle. She squinted, only to have another piece of sunlight reflecting back at her clairvoyantly from the mirror in his bedroom. Channeling powerfully from everything that had a glint of shininess, his belt buckle, the doorknob, and the face of the clock, it was as if all the light was aiming at her, commanding her to go, and leave the boy alone, but a force inside her just wanted to savor his warmth a little longer.
Similar to the last time they were together like this, her eyes refused to peel away from him. He was sleeping next to her, with a face that was at peace. The bath they shared last night apparently worked, because his mind and body seemingly had successfully expelled the pain and struggles that were hurting him merely hours ago.
She realized she had willingly ceded control of her eyes, allowing them to study him freely. The goal was to form an impression of his every detail and angle. Her nostrils widened too. His scent would provide the colors of the deep imprint.
Comparing it with the imprint from the past, he hadn’t changed at all. His demeanor, while very laconic, was once again easily betrayed by the fire of emotion pulsating underneath his skin. His grip was recklessly angry, but his muscles still managed to restrain themselves mindfully throughout the night, not allowing them to take their embedded frustration on her.
The only thing that changed was his ring. Repressing the urge to know the reasons why, he was now wearing it around his finger instead of around his neck.
She cast her eyes on his reddened cheeks, colors which were the remnants of a few wordless drinks. She leaned closer and wondered which part of his face she had not kissed yet. When the murkiness in her eyes cleared away slightly, she could almost believe that even a bad girl on the fringe of society like her could harbor a small ounce of goodness, and as a result, capable of feeling good about herself… and doing good for others…
… at least… for one brief night…
He was still asleep, she observed touchingly as she continued to avoid the sunlight. Her eyes were now framing the curvatures of his earlobe and the small earring as her yearnings let out a loud roar; they were becoming needy. Illusions were invading her reality with nonsense and dreams about being able to wake up next to someone like him everyday, muttering tender words to her, every night… were getting louder…
It was not to be. It would never be. She could never go back. She zipped up her aching heart and abruptly breathed in the portraits of the impossible, silencing the foggy fantasies nonchalantly as she got out of his bed and trudged to his mirror.
It was clear he doesn’t belong in her loveless shadowy world of discarded souls. As a numb but experienced player, she had acquired an instinct for this. Normally, she wouldn’t care about the people that crossed her path, being what she was, a faceless scavenger hunting dangerously for the latest hot blooded body to keep herself warm for the night, someone to anchor her shadow with so she would not be blown apart by the winds.
She understood the game well; the feeding of the hunger for lust and flesh must conclude when the sun rises and the willing players must go before the yearning for true love would kick in. What she didn’t understand was how she ended up left behind in this world for so long, and why it was still so tough to erase all the fingerprints of meaningless strangers and pretend that all those nightly encounters did not take place…
“But the night with him last summer... why are his fingerprints from that night still on my body... Why I could not rinse them off…
“And now, I’ve been with him twice...
“Why…”
“It’s because pretty boy’s not like the others,” a little voice in her head debated solidly. “Isn’t it obvious? You never forget pretty faces!”
Maybe that was why she returned to him last night even though there were so many other new and warm desolate bodies out there for her. Knowing the rules of the game, she wasn’t supposed to revisit old shadows. The risk of being emotionally attached was too high. Perhaps it was due to her wanting to protect him from the others, who she suspected would automatically dismantle him and steal his soul, turning him into one of them.
She reasoned that he only ventured into her world because he momentarily lost his way by accident. For her, the ring around his finger was a glimpse into his world, where there would be a life line, a future, with a girl, someone whose origins were deeply rooted inside him, starting with the ring. He must be dreaming about her now, because she noticed he was grinning slightly.
“You’re a man of a few words,” she smiled to his small sleeping reflection next to hers. She was glad, because exchanging words would risk her to fall in love with him. She didn’t want to get to know him. That was not what her purpose was. She was convinced it was purely physical. He successfully answered her needs last night.
“But what about the next night,” she sighed bleakly as she focused on her own reflection. It was not a surprise that staring back at her was an image she didn’t want to see, an ash-filled face, one of shattered dreams, with no future, and having hers next to his just mockingly magnified the deep contrast between them. They were simply two very different people.
She must not use him again for his sake. He is too good for her. Her time with him must end now.
“Thanks for last night,” she put on her clothes and silently walked out of his bedroom, making a monotonous straight line towards the front door. Before she made her exit, she glanced around his flat one final time. She was convinced she was only making sure she had left nothing behind. At the foot of the doorstep was her purse, resting atop a pile of dated newspapers, organized very neatly. He must have been out of town for a long time, she thought to herself, judging from the thickness of the pile. His broom and luggage were abandoned wildly by the doorway, but the rest of his flat appeared surprisingly tidy for a bachelor. It was as if someone had been taking care of this place the entire time in his absence, but there was no evidence of another person living here.
She quickly picked up her purse and as a distraction, retrieved a cigarette, hoping this would stop her curiosities, an ability she thought she had lost until it suddenly surfaced during the encounter with him this past summer, and now it was asserting itself once again. She must constantly remind herself it was not her place to ponder about his details. The importance of his broom and why he would always carry one around town was not her business.
“Good luck, pretty boy. I hope I don’t see you again… at least… under that lamppost…” she left his flat and closed the door, her shadow quickly disappearing into the dark unlit corridor.
“Please take care of yourself…”
Moongate Beckons When The Canvas Sleeps by gossipweaver
Chapter Notes: Theirs was a brief but intimate encounter, and by chance, they would meet again. For him, she is his temporary escape from reality, but for her, he represents a long lasting reminder of what she longs to have as her reality…