Breaking the Hold

Brian fell asleep a while later, his dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like a butterfly drying its wings on a dewy leaf. His rosy lips slowly relaxed into a pout as he dreamt, and the moonlight threw his high, proud cheekbones into sharp relief. I was still in the circle of him arms, only I had rolled over so I could stare at him in the darkness. He looked so peaceful and young and it was times like this that I questioned his belonging in the asylum. My eyes were drawn to his lips that were moving slightly as he slept. Suddenly, a strange urge took control of me, wanting me to do something taboo. I wanted to kiss Brian.

Scared, I broke myself from his grasp and moved back on the bed until my back was up against the wall. Brian was instantly discontent with my movement, his face contorting into a weak frown and he rolled slightly and took my place in the warm sheets. His hand had flopped over and landed just in front of my face that was lying on the edge of my pillow. My heart hammered in my chest as I considered resting his palm on my cheek. The silence in the room was stifling, and my breathing sped up, contrasting from the steadiness of my roommate and the man next to me. Would Brian wake up if I moved him? He had told me he was a heavy sleeper earlier when we were talking and I hoped it was true. Biting my lip, I forced a whisper to leave my mouth.

“Brian?” No answer. “Brian are you asleep?” I tried a little louder. Brian said no words save for a sigh in response. He was out. I took a fortifying breath and gathered up my courage, telling myself there might never be a moment like this again. My breathing hitched and came in short, shallow pants as I inched centimeter by centimeter towards the sleeping man next to me. With a pale hand that trembled slightly, I picked up Brian’s tanned one and lifted it like a marionette does for a puppet master, and slid myself under it until we were nose to nose. Brian’s exhales hit my neck and made me shiver.

Ever so slowly, I lowered his hand down until I felt his warm palm span my cheek. Excitement rushed into me, blooming from the spot where he touched and I reveled in the feeling. The calluses on his fingertips brushed at the tender skin at the corners of my mouth and eyes and they tingled with the sensations. I could make out a blurry ‘BORO’ on his knuckles and the sweet smell of cigarettes brushed past my nose. Brian licked his lips in his sleep and I honed in on the action like a tiger watches the antelope. Solidifying my resolve, I reminded myself that it was time to do or die. I moved so slowly that I was hardly moving until the tips of our noses brushed. Taking a deep breath, I tilted my head as best I could to the side and gently placed my lips upon Brian’s. The touch was so slight, so feathery, it barely counted as a kiss, but fireworks were booming in my brain and my heart and veins were crackling with electricity.

I pulled back, brushing our noses together once more and closed my eyes. Placing my hand over Brian’s on my cheek I smiled the biggest I had in years. I had kissed Brian.
I laid there with him until my neck cramped and I began to feel antsy. As nice as it would have been, Brian could wake up at any second and I didn’t want to push my luck. I disentangled myself from the mass of limbs and sheets and reached into my bedside drawer and pulled out my small sketchbook, a pencil, and a little light that clipped on. I sat back against the wall, the solidness of it grounding me slightly, and bent my knees to prop my sketchbook. I opened to a clean page and started sketching Brian, savoring the privilege of getting to see him at his most exposed and vulnerable state. The minutes ticked by as I drew, finishing one and starting another as Brian turned in his sleep. Decorative details were unimportant and unneeded as I captured the intimacy of the moment. Only when Jimmy gave a raucous snore did I look up. Dismissing him when he rolled over, I turned my eyes back to Brian, only to be startled once more to see Brian looking intently back at me. I panicked and pulled my sketchbook against my chest, my eyes looking back wildly.

“How long have you been awake?” I stage whispered frantically. Fear became a lump in my stomach before it plummeted quickly as an icy bomb.

“Long enough.” He replied, his voice raspy.

He closed his eyes then, a self satisfied grin on his face and he fell back asleep. I muttered a string of swears as I banged my head back against the wall. Did Brian know I kissed him? Was he faking, seeing how far it would go? I stopped hitting my head and stared at him as a new thought occurred to me. Did Brian want me to kiss him? If he really was awake, wouldn’t he have pulled back or rolled over if he didn’t want me to?

The room suddenly became sweltering. There were too many bodies and too many layers in this bed for me comfort level and my sanity. Our little party of three occupying the room felt like a moshpit, and the walls were closing in faster and faster. I needed to get out. I needed to breathe. I exchanged my sketchpad for my iPod and headphones and crept out of the room. Throwing one last backwards glance at Brian’s face illuminated in the moonlight caused the flock of butterflies in my stomach to rise into a frenzy and I closed the door to stop myself from running over and throwing myself on top of him. I turned my iPod on shuffle and the volume on low and began my wandering, letting my thoughts mingle with lyrics and drift in and out of my head.

Visitor’s Day was next week and I wondered how I would introduce Brian to my parents. My friend? My boyfriend? The Man who scared me so much I could cry but I just kissed him in the moonlight? I sighed and licked my lips. I needed a drink. Four wrong turns and a stubbed toe later, I found myself at a little alcove, stocked with steaming carafes of regular, full of caffeine coffee, real mugs, and every flavor of creamer, milk, and sugar man ever created. It was obvious it was intended for the nurses on night duty, but as I stole a glance down my deserted hallway, I doubted anyone would notice a missing cup.

The coffee was warm in my hands and made me feel comforted, like I could be tethered by a piece of porcelain and hidden safely from the world by the hazelnut aroma filtering up wonderfully into my nose. I supposed people who hide from the world behind a cup of coffee are called addicts and recluses, and that it would only lead me to a stomach ulcer and more therapy. Contented, I barely noticed the change from hard wood to plush carpet under my feet as I drifted in to the lounge.

During the day there were large tables set up with all kinds of board games and card games, bins filled with the latest books borrowed from the local library, shelves of DVDs, all there for recreational therapy as they called it here. But now, it looked cozy, now filled not with things to do but rather two leather couches, an oak coffee table, and a velvet chaise. The big bay windows that seemed to be in every room overlooked the ocean and a lighthouse calling in the distance. The rotating beam of light was hypnotic, and I was surprised to find myself curled up with my mug of coffee on the window seat. The jazz coming from my headphones washed all my tenseness away and I sighed.

Maybe Brian was my lighthouse. Tall, sturdy, faced with cold wind and even colder water trying to knock down his foundations day after day. But even through all that, he still managed to send out a light, faint at first but steadily growing stronger, and call me towards him. I smiled to myself. Would telling Brian I really liked him be so bad? I felt myself falter as part of me said yes. But there was no profit with any risk, and at the very least we could be acquaintances. I shuddered at the word. I would throw myself under a bus if it ever came to that.

Draining the last cold dregs of coffee from my mug I got up and stretched, not realizing I had been sitting there so long. I was a little jittery from the coffee and wide awake from the insomnia, and figured a little guitar would be soothing. Not knowing what to do with my mug, I brought it with me, liking the way the glaze was perfectly smooth under my fingers. It was perfect, no nicks or scratches, and polished enough so that I could do my make up in it. As I rounded the corner I remembered I had therapy with Dr. Morrow again in the morning. I sighed. Sometimes going to therapy with her was just as exhausting as not sleeping.
As I took another left, a strange clicking noise interrupted my music I looked around behind me, expecting to see a nurse in heels, or a janitor with keys, but once again the hallway was vacant, save for me and a weak flickering of light spilling out from an opened door a little further ahead. Curious, I slung my headphones around my neck and crept closer. Grinning up at me from the center of the room was the ferocious demon of a man from dinner.

Fear was an icy sweat dripping down my back.

“Fuck.” I gasped out under my breath, trying to back away unseen, but to no avail. He had already seen me. Click. He looked up at me. Click. He grinned wider.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” He told me in a tone like melted chocolate dripping off of a spoon. Something in his hands flashed. Click. Fire sprang to life on the tip of his lighter.

“W-what?” I stammered, trying to make myself seem as small as possible in the shadows. The rational party of me was screaming to turn tail and run, but in morbid and perverse curiosity I wanted to know why this man was so taken with me, when I was so clearly taken with another.

Click. “I knew you would come to see me, Zacky.” He drawled. He fingered the lighter and I felt like the fingers that were holding a match that was quickly burning down.

“A-are you allowed to have those in here?” I asked, wanting to keep attention from myself. The man chuckled.

“No, but who really cares about the rules?” He stood up and I felt my legs paralyze under me. I stood rooted to the spot by fear and anxiety and wished wildly for that nurse or janitor to see me and save me.

Click. He started walking over, slowly, step by step, and couldn’t be more menacing. The dancing flame on his face veiled in the darkness made him seemed undoubted evil. When he was just in front of me, he bent down, his face mere inches from mine. I stopped breathing.

“Am I allowed to have you?” The lighter was extinguished and I hoped if I closed my eyes in the darkness this would all go away.

“No.” I whispered. Click.

The flame was back, dancing now by my cheek, wanting to come closer and closer for a scorching kiss. As I tried to lean away he grabbed me roughly by my long hair, jerking me until we were forehead to forehead and his unworldly hazel eyes burned themselves into my own. The flame came closer and I felt my cheek beginning to singe and the smell of burning hair started to drift into my nose.

“I will have you.” He told me in a deadly promise. His gaze shifted then, to the large hickey popping up from the collar of my shirt. He traced a large tanned finger over the mark and I shuddered. His fingers felt entirely wrong. I felt contaminated. He sent me a devilish smirk with a hungry look in his eyes before he leaned in. Click.

Bathed in darkness I felt a terrible pain erupt from the other side of my neck where it joined my shoulder. In an attempt to scream I gulped in air before I was quickly smothered by his hand. The pain intensified and I began to cry in silent agony. When he pulled away, I collapsed into a trembling and weeping mess. I reached up to wipe the dribble of something running down my neck. As I pulled back my hand and almost vomited at the sight of blood staining my fingers. He had bitten me.

With a powerful aura surrounding him, he knelt down next to me.
“I can mark you too. Remember that the next time you try to fool me.” Pressing two fingers to his lips he kissed them, before pressing the fingers against my own lips, sealing them from talking, and from telling.

The feelings I had from before were like the mug lying next to me in a hundred pieces. They were broken.