I'm afraid I can't review this before posting, I dug it outta a certain file and can't write any of the characters having these thoughts, seeing as I just don't remember anything
about them. Well, for now...
Also, precisely because it is all just feelings, I suggest you don't read it unless you've seen the source very recently yourself. For that fresh grip on the charas!!
The rush was too much and exactly what he was looking for.
Every fibre of his body was on edge and so, so enjoying itself. True, a bit of disgusting pang afterwards, but.
He'd know what to do and that he could.
He was simple-minded enough to wait...
A bit like choking on oneself, he'd patiently sit it out; even with that itch.
And it would come, forth, forth, the time for a great punch of life and: that was great.
Being on top. Yes, he was always in that weird state. Like neither before something happens or after it does but as if everything was present and the present was so ultimate his puny little brain didn't know what to do with it. - Except his body did.
And that was a ride XXX one'd be willing to hitch..!
I just want to know. What it means. I feel a weird music in my body, or maybe in my mind, or maybe I have none.
I ought to move, that's the only thing I feel. Weak, but naggingly nudging me. As if that weak force was everything that moves me. ...And not the powerful want I know I have.
Somewhere. For something. Maybe just flying. But what the hell..?
For now I can taste and touch the little things, not that I'm planning to settle, but I'm waiting for the right time. Which there will be.
Mystery. On second thought, it's not that I need to know. Understand.
I'm just breaking out of something (with no effect, arguably). And it feels as if that was exactly the way it was supposed to be. - Which fuckingscares me.
It wasn't his intention, not originally. But a stranger who became a buddy all too quickly (yet completely naturally) became an object of passion almost startingly. It wasn't that out of nowhere, nor that strong, but...
He was a throughoutly calm person. Could get angry, but yes, he was sure of that. After all, even if he didn't constantly employ it, he had control. And knew world mostly required you to be calm.
But it was like the other lad's existence - no, his presence poked into him sharply, and not "I can deal with this" like a blade or "ehm" like an unsorted joker's hand, *annoying*, hard to shake of feeling of making way through a meadow of throny things.
He'd have to give him this intense look, speaking everything, clear in his position, even if he didn't want to. He had to watch the line of that open shirt disappearing in lazily laid-over coat, the monotone but always provoking grin of can-have-it-all smugness with no wavering, no uncertainties and had to go down the pants...
And he didn't want to leave it at just that. Out of courtesy, he gave his partner time. Of not pressuring into something else and making waves searching for answer.
Some time. Then he seduced his captain aggressive. And it didn't even surprise him how well it worked. After all, they sure had similar tastes...
Insatiable. Uncomfortable. Somehow vague, bland, empty.
But so, so full.
Of that something, just one thing, one direction: rule working them all.
No matter what tune he'd make for himself and just himself, be who he be... That didn't work.
And idiots he'd come to know would just pass like a train window scenery.
Picture after picture, not in swift movement of one glide, oh no... But does it matter?
As long as you can go forward, somehow, following what seems to be you. You play by the rules and get by, quite literally.
Though there's one thing that doesn't fit - it's cold. And divinely pleasant, oh yes!
He only had one second chance.
He was fucking making then most out of it. Because to repair the past by reaching the future as fast as possible, that was one thing. but he also needed the possession he already had.
Few troubled kids. That seemed to always know in which direction he will go and why he reached out a hand. Really, just a random gathering, but. That kind of thing was the same as family, it was out there. In here. This time, leisure on surface, he cannot lose that thing.
If not then, now it's entirely on him. And he knows that too well...
Just hopes no nosy guy can sense that off him. 'Cause he also knows what that kind of guy would do.
And that wouldn't do. That's not how it will be today. 'Cause that's his thing.
And something he can completely do, by the way. Even if it tears him godawfully small pieces.
He at least has that kind of power, he knows.
It has to end.
Everything has to end.
You can try doing something, but in the end fate, flow of time will always arrive at some sort of conclusion it had in mind, on the big scale. In hindsight.
And that means it's easy to be wary even as you certainly don't act that way. Like trusting what you don't believe or believing what you don't trust or doing what you know is right despite yourself or playing a game with yourself.
Endings just need smoothing out, and to make sure something will be born out of them. No real preparations or regret necessary.
Just a decent outlook and the will to do whatever it takes.
Looking straight ahead. Yes, that's it.