Secrets, unrevealed
Prologue
His hands were cold while they softly held my face. I could smell the cigarette smoke on his fingers when he touched my lips. They were slowly exploring, tracing every inch of my face, my skin burning under his touch. I kept searching for his eyes but within all his fascination he seemed to be concerned with something else. We both exhaled a deep breath as our foreheads touched and I could feel my heartbeat picking up speed. His cool skin eased my hot one, my hands tangled in his silky black hair. I wanted him to finally look at me. I wanted to see the desire glowing in his blue eyes, longing for me and for me only. I wanted to feel him everywhere, to absorb him, to never let him go. I wanted to feel him in every fibre of my body. He was I, and I was him. I was afraid he was going to break away soon though, I could feel him fade away. His mind seemed to wander to a place where I was no longer there. His eyelids were closed and his bottom and upper lip were firmly pressed to each other, trembling. My head fell a little to my left, disconnecting our touch, my eyes a blurred vision. My hands travelled to his face, tracing every inch of it, exploring it, to remember it forever.
“Leo,” a slight whisper escaped my lips, my hot breath visible in the cold air of March assuring me that I had really said his name. “Leo.” My words remained only a string of letters in a row, pending in the air between us.
He looked at me, his expression so unreadable I felt like screaming at him, even shaking him. And within a blink, there was the desire I had longed to see the entire time. It was all there. His eyes full of hope and love, my heart pounded against my chest and a lump formed in my throat. I was sure that every word coming from my mouth would stop right in the middle of it but even if, there was no need to speak. There was no need for words that could never describe the feelings we were holding inside of our bodies.
His full pink lips soon formed a bewitching smile. “Peyton,” he whispered back and his hands sneaked around my waist, softly pressing my body against his, closing every space between us. His eyes travelled from mine towards my lips and when we finally connected, our bodies exploded into a thousand falling stars, making every wish come true.
............................................___________________
"We dance round in a ring and suppose, while the secret sits in the middle and knows."
- Robert Frost
Little people could say of themselves they never gave away a secret. It just is in human’s nature to share what they know, enjoying the spur of the moment and the other’s excitement before truth is revealed, cherishing the feeling of knowing what other’s do not. Indeed, who could resist? Little people could say they did not regret revealing the secret. Occasionally though, secrets do bring delight, but even such secrets carry a slight notion of horror within. Every secret carries a slight notion of horror within, and that is exactly why they should not be spoken out, but be kept for one’s self. Even if it is too hard to bear the weight of such horrid secrets. Confidentiality is not to be treated like a plucked flower that withers without water. Keeping a secret is like keeping a flower alive, guarding it from foreign impact, treasuring its beauty and making sure it isn’t to die before the confidant dies themselves. It is the confidant, the warden him- or herself who is to take pleasure in its natural beauty only, and no one else.
And just like the secret that sits in the middle and knows, others shall dance around, and only suppose, but not know.
............................................___________________
The covers were glued to my sweltering body as I woke up in sweat, again. I hated that dream, oh how I hated it. My alarm clock read only 3.50 in the morning which left me another good amount of three hours which hopefully wouldn’t include that dream again. I quickly got up to go open my window, letting the cool night air of October ease my hot skin. Mrs Bernam who lived a few houses down my parent’s house was already doing her daily morning paper round, her small dog walking next to her on his yellow lead. With a last glance up into the sky and stars, I walked back to my bed, deciding to just leave the covers on the floor and try sleeping without them. I had tried in vain though, over an hour or even more, shifting positions from my back to my stomach and my sides, getting rid of my pillows only to put them back all over again, but nothing seemed to really work. The only thing that filled my head was him. And he wasn’t about to let me sleep in the slightest, the stupid idiot.
I had thought about that dream so much since the night it had actually happened in real life, my head hurt when only his face came into my mind. Really, I had no idea why the events of that night in March should’ve affected me so much that I kept dreaming about it on a weekly basis, if not a daily one. But it was replayed so vividly every time and it seemed to be the only dream I was able to remember in the morning, there just had to be a reason somewhere lying in between. And for the last few weeks, I began to instantly wake up from it and lie in sweat, not really knowing what had happened until his picture appeared back in my mind. Then I just couldn’t go back to sleep and spent my time walking around in my room, arranging my clothes and books, doing just anything to keep me from sitting down and letting my mind wander because I knew exactly where it’d end up.
I had questioned myself a lot of times, trying hard to find an answer to the huge Why? that was probably already burned to the inside of my head. And the most obvious answer was the most bizarre at the same time: I was in love with Leonard, Leo, Rogers. But as a matter of fact, I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t wake up with butterflies filling my stomach when I’d had that dream. I wasn’t longing for it to go on and I didn’t hate myself for having woken up when there was more to come. In fact, I hated myself for having had that dream, not for having not had that dream, which was on rare occasions only anyway. I dreaded is beautiful face.
Leo, who was two years my senior wasn’t going to the same school I went to. To be honest, I didn’t really have an idea about what he was really doing in life or for a living. The only times we saw each other were at parties, village fairs or when occasionally driving by, since we lived in the same town and had a few friends in common. Our town was pretty small, everybody knew everybody as it is and it was inevitable to know everyone or at least know their faces. But there never was more between us, between Leo and me. We were just two independent young individuals following our own separate ways into our own separate lives.
If there was anything between us, it could only be described as indifference. I always perceived him as a cocky human being. He placed himself above everyone else, in a bad way though, always thinking too highly of himself for my taste, full of pride and no gentleness. As far as I knew he had only a few friends to whom he stood really close, as a real friend with all its advantages and disadvantages that came with friendship. But most of the other people he treated like dirt. If it was helpful for his advantage though, he surely knew how to sweet-talk them to their faces only to stab them in the back afterwards when he had used them for his own good, and only for his. And I wasn’t really sure if he wouldn’t do that to the friends he claimed as his friends, too. You never knew where you really stood when it came to doings with Leo Rogers.
All this wouldn’t have bothered me, really, if it wasn’t for people being blind to all his doings. Because exactly those people who he used for his own good, were people who knew exactly what he was doing but ignored it willingly and still lingered around him. They still talked to him, still laughed with him as if nothing ever happened, as if he never did anything. And he didn’t even have to apologize for having used them; they just shrugged it off and acted as if really nothing ever happened! Every rationally thinking person would at least demand a decent apology, no? He was exactly like that one little kid one could easily find on every playground, who bothered and teased the other kids, throwing sand in their faces and tripping them up, but when was questioned always cried and said “It wasn’t me!” and claimed all the other kids were to blame. And then naturally, you just had to believe the kid who cried and played it off so truthfully! Yeah, right.
But then again, I had to give him credit for at least insulting people to their faces, for never putting up a cheap play. He did it behind their backs, too, of course, but people knew he had done it and if there was a chance, he insulted them to their faces so they had certainty about the rumours. Certainty about having been insulted by Leo Rogers, from Leo himself, how delightful! God, how daft can one become, really? And I, who really didn’t have to deal with Leo that much, was able to look behind his face and could tell exactly what he was up to, how he treated people and that even if he apologized, which probably wasn’t really worth his time, would treat them like dirt the very next second again; I, who only examined him and his doings from afar! How people who dealt much more with him and thought themselves as a friend of Leo (I’m sure he’d never entitle them as a friend vice versa) could be so blind to all his behavior and doings was just beyond me. He was an asshole to them, insulted them in every respect, backstabbed them without the slightest feeling of remorse, if not the exact opposite, and they shrugged it off! He used them for every possible advantage of his and took the piss out of them the very next second and they didn’t even care because “It’s Leo, he’s just like that!”. What is wrong with people? When you’re treated like dirt, you definitely wouldn’t throw money at the person because “He’s just like that, he doesn’t mean it like that.” when, for god’s sake, everybody and you yourself must know that he absolutely and with no doubt meant it like that!
I dreaded his face, his bad behavior towards others and his “I’m better than all of you, combined!”-attitude he carried around like it was written on his forehead. I hated how he occasionally treated people well and nicely like it was a privilege they weren’t even worth, and in his mind they really weren’t worth it at all because he did it for his own good only anyway. But people still believed him although he deceived them so openly to their faces! I hated how people still trusted him, even loved him although he didn’t deserve their love and kindness in the least because he never showed love and kindness himself! My parents always taught me how life was about giving and taking, how you’d be treated well when you treated people well. But Leonard Rogers never seemed to have learned giving. And with people never waving him away and never giving him a good piece of their mind, how could he ever realize what he was doing was wrong and awful? When he could so easily go on with treating people badly, insulting them, backstabbing them and wouldn’t have to face the consequences, anyway? When people wouldn’t even care about what he’d done and he’d easily convince them to help him or do a favour for him? And he possibly didn’t even have to convince them because they volunteered to do whatever he wished? How, with such behavior of people, people blind to his doings and willing to just forget what things he’d done to them, even throwing themselves at him over and over again, how could he get off his high horse if there was no one who shoved him off of it finally? And how he deserved to be shoved off of it, already!
But most of all, I dreaded that dream. I despised it with every fibre of my body no matter what Leo did to people or what kind of human being he was. All that mattered was for it to finally leave me alone. And in the very back of my mind, I knew I’d find a way to get rid of it somehow. And if it included an encounter with Leo, then be it that way. I wasn’t afraid of him. I had learned my lesson long ago and in the end it always takes two to tango. And when I was chosen to teach him a lesson in life, then I was willing to be the teacher, oh-so willing indeed!
................................................
......................................Then it all just started with you.
........................And at the very end, everything closed without you.
“Leo,” a slight whisper escaped my lips, my hot breath visible in the cold air of March assuring me that I had really said his name. “Leo.” My words remained only a string of letters in a row, pending in the air between us.
He looked at me, his expression so unreadable I felt like screaming at him, even shaking him. And within a blink, there was the desire I had longed to see the entire time. It was all there. His eyes full of hope and love, my heart pounded against my chest and a lump formed in my throat. I was sure that every word coming from my mouth would stop right in the middle of it but even if, there was no need to speak. There was no need for words that could never describe the feelings we were holding inside of our bodies.
His full pink lips soon formed a bewitching smile. “Peyton,” he whispered back and his hands sneaked around my waist, softly pressing my body against his, closing every space between us. His eyes travelled from mine towards my lips and when we finally connected, our bodies exploded into a thousand falling stars, making every wish come true.
............................................___________________
"We dance round in a ring and suppose, while the secret sits in the middle and knows."
- Robert Frost
Little people could say of themselves they never gave away a secret. It just is in human’s nature to share what they know, enjoying the spur of the moment and the other’s excitement before truth is revealed, cherishing the feeling of knowing what other’s do not. Indeed, who could resist? Little people could say they did not regret revealing the secret. Occasionally though, secrets do bring delight, but even such secrets carry a slight notion of horror within. Every secret carries a slight notion of horror within, and that is exactly why they should not be spoken out, but be kept for one’s self. Even if it is too hard to bear the weight of such horrid secrets. Confidentiality is not to be treated like a plucked flower that withers without water. Keeping a secret is like keeping a flower alive, guarding it from foreign impact, treasuring its beauty and making sure it isn’t to die before the confidant dies themselves. It is the confidant, the warden him- or herself who is to take pleasure in its natural beauty only, and no one else.
And just like the secret that sits in the middle and knows, others shall dance around, and only suppose, but not know.
............................................___________________
The covers were glued to my sweltering body as I woke up in sweat, again. I hated that dream, oh how I hated it. My alarm clock read only 3.50 in the morning which left me another good amount of three hours which hopefully wouldn’t include that dream again. I quickly got up to go open my window, letting the cool night air of October ease my hot skin. Mrs Bernam who lived a few houses down my parent’s house was already doing her daily morning paper round, her small dog walking next to her on his yellow lead. With a last glance up into the sky and stars, I walked back to my bed, deciding to just leave the covers on the floor and try sleeping without them. I had tried in vain though, over an hour or even more, shifting positions from my back to my stomach and my sides, getting rid of my pillows only to put them back all over again, but nothing seemed to really work. The only thing that filled my head was him. And he wasn’t about to let me sleep in the slightest, the stupid idiot.
I had thought about that dream so much since the night it had actually happened in real life, my head hurt when only his face came into my mind. Really, I had no idea why the events of that night in March should’ve affected me so much that I kept dreaming about it on a weekly basis, if not a daily one. But it was replayed so vividly every time and it seemed to be the only dream I was able to remember in the morning, there just had to be a reason somewhere lying in between. And for the last few weeks, I began to instantly wake up from it and lie in sweat, not really knowing what had happened until his picture appeared back in my mind. Then I just couldn’t go back to sleep and spent my time walking around in my room, arranging my clothes and books, doing just anything to keep me from sitting down and letting my mind wander because I knew exactly where it’d end up.
I had questioned myself a lot of times, trying hard to find an answer to the huge Why? that was probably already burned to the inside of my head. And the most obvious answer was the most bizarre at the same time: I was in love with Leonard, Leo, Rogers. But as a matter of fact, I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t wake up with butterflies filling my stomach when I’d had that dream. I wasn’t longing for it to go on and I didn’t hate myself for having woken up when there was more to come. In fact, I hated myself for having had that dream, not for having not had that dream, which was on rare occasions only anyway. I dreaded is beautiful face.
Leo, who was two years my senior wasn’t going to the same school I went to. To be honest, I didn’t really have an idea about what he was really doing in life or for a living. The only times we saw each other were at parties, village fairs or when occasionally driving by, since we lived in the same town and had a few friends in common. Our town was pretty small, everybody knew everybody as it is and it was inevitable to know everyone or at least know their faces. But there never was more between us, between Leo and me. We were just two independent young individuals following our own separate ways into our own separate lives.
If there was anything between us, it could only be described as indifference. I always perceived him as a cocky human being. He placed himself above everyone else, in a bad way though, always thinking too highly of himself for my taste, full of pride and no gentleness. As far as I knew he had only a few friends to whom he stood really close, as a real friend with all its advantages and disadvantages that came with friendship. But most of the other people he treated like dirt. If it was helpful for his advantage though, he surely knew how to sweet-talk them to their faces only to stab them in the back afterwards when he had used them for his own good, and only for his. And I wasn’t really sure if he wouldn’t do that to the friends he claimed as his friends, too. You never knew where you really stood when it came to doings with Leo Rogers.
All this wouldn’t have bothered me, really, if it wasn’t for people being blind to all his doings. Because exactly those people who he used for his own good, were people who knew exactly what he was doing but ignored it willingly and still lingered around him. They still talked to him, still laughed with him as if nothing ever happened, as if he never did anything. And he didn’t even have to apologize for having used them; they just shrugged it off and acted as if really nothing ever happened! Every rationally thinking person would at least demand a decent apology, no? He was exactly like that one little kid one could easily find on every playground, who bothered and teased the other kids, throwing sand in their faces and tripping them up, but when was questioned always cried and said “It wasn’t me!” and claimed all the other kids were to blame. And then naturally, you just had to believe the kid who cried and played it off so truthfully! Yeah, right.
But then again, I had to give him credit for at least insulting people to their faces, for never putting up a cheap play. He did it behind their backs, too, of course, but people knew he had done it and if there was a chance, he insulted them to their faces so they had certainty about the rumours. Certainty about having been insulted by Leo Rogers, from Leo himself, how delightful! God, how daft can one become, really? And I, who really didn’t have to deal with Leo that much, was able to look behind his face and could tell exactly what he was up to, how he treated people and that even if he apologized, which probably wasn’t really worth his time, would treat them like dirt the very next second again; I, who only examined him and his doings from afar! How people who dealt much more with him and thought themselves as a friend of Leo (I’m sure he’d never entitle them as a friend vice versa) could be so blind to all his behavior and doings was just beyond me. He was an asshole to them, insulted them in every respect, backstabbed them without the slightest feeling of remorse, if not the exact opposite, and they shrugged it off! He used them for every possible advantage of his and took the piss out of them the very next second and they didn’t even care because “It’s Leo, he’s just like that!”. What is wrong with people? When you’re treated like dirt, you definitely wouldn’t throw money at the person because “He’s just like that, he doesn’t mean it like that.” when, for god’s sake, everybody and you yourself must know that he absolutely and with no doubt meant it like that!
I dreaded his face, his bad behavior towards others and his “I’m better than all of you, combined!”-attitude he carried around like it was written on his forehead. I hated how he occasionally treated people well and nicely like it was a privilege they weren’t even worth, and in his mind they really weren’t worth it at all because he did it for his own good only anyway. But people still believed him although he deceived them so openly to their faces! I hated how people still trusted him, even loved him although he didn’t deserve their love and kindness in the least because he never showed love and kindness himself! My parents always taught me how life was about giving and taking, how you’d be treated well when you treated people well. But Leonard Rogers never seemed to have learned giving. And with people never waving him away and never giving him a good piece of their mind, how could he ever realize what he was doing was wrong and awful? When he could so easily go on with treating people badly, insulting them, backstabbing them and wouldn’t have to face the consequences, anyway? When people wouldn’t even care about what he’d done and he’d easily convince them to help him or do a favour for him? And he possibly didn’t even have to convince them because they volunteered to do whatever he wished? How, with such behavior of people, people blind to his doings and willing to just forget what things he’d done to them, even throwing themselves at him over and over again, how could he get off his high horse if there was no one who shoved him off of it finally? And how he deserved to be shoved off of it, already!
But most of all, I dreaded that dream. I despised it with every fibre of my body no matter what Leo did to people or what kind of human being he was. All that mattered was for it to finally leave me alone. And in the very back of my mind, I knew I’d find a way to get rid of it somehow. And if it included an encounter with Leo, then be it that way. I wasn’t afraid of him. I had learned my lesson long ago and in the end it always takes two to tango. And when I was chosen to teach him a lesson in life, then I was willing to be the teacher, oh-so willing indeed!
................................................
......................................Then it all just started with you.
........................And at the very end, everything closed without you.