Status: Complete!
Lacrimo Crystallinus
Duo Somnium Crystallinus
As my lips move on hers, I think of Carrie Ann. Her kisses were much different, much more aggressive. She would move her hands all along my face and neck, doing anything to pull me just a bit closer. Her passion would build and become something irresistibly naughty, and thinking of Bao, I doubt that anything like that is possible from her.
I sneak a glance to Bao's closed eyes. I can see the strength of her dependence on what I feed to her painted on them like a fine white powder pasted across her eyelids. I hope that she does not become too attached to me; that she does not feel this as she felt that youth from before… but to kiss her is to feel everything freedom should feel like—it feels like ecstasy… but not for the right reasons. I flinch as I remember sharing a kiss much as this one with Carrie Ann, the pain piercing my heart as a bullet would. Bao moves away from me, her eyes wide with surprise and worry.
"Are you okay?" she asks in her delicate, angelic voice. I look into her eyes, my heart aching at what I am doing to her, the lies I fill her ears and heart with. Uncertainty rises within me like bile, creating a similar taste in my mouth; I cannot bear to stare into the face of innocence this way. I look away quickly and she moves to be closer, hugging me. When I muster the strength to look back at her eyes, I see only concern and it strikes me with guilt again.
"I…" I stutter, unable to speak. She looks on with so much sympathy that it pains even me. She has clearly mistaken my guilt for sorrow from what I told her only moments before, but I can say nothing. I almost clasp her hand, but I cannot bring myself to do it. My hand falls weakly to my side and I look back at the small, flowering gardenia, which is a harsh reminder of the fragility that I walk upon. Its silvery-white bloom illuminates the darkness, a sharp contrast in the darkness of the night.
Beside me, Bao's downcast eyes look all the more doll-like, her eyelashes thick and dark, framing her almond eyes and making the pain in them more eloquent than any lie I've yet told. I reach to her hand and grasp it, and I wonder if this was what the others looked like when I'd left. If it were, I question if I could bring myself to do this to another, particularly one as delicate and scarred as Bao. I should never have placed myself here. I look at our hands, which are entwined.
Mine that has touched so many others, that has committed sin after sin without repent. Mine—that has done things that would disgust the angel beside me. I feel dirty and both too full and somehow incomplete.
And grasping my dirty hands as if they are dear... are Bao's. Her fingers are slim and long, with porcelain smoothness and free of judgment. They are clearly as innocent as the rest of her. In my mind I can see these hands clasping at a stony wall as her ex boyfriend, Zhi, rapes her. I watch as they shake with fright, watch as they are restrained, watch as they continue to shake even after it's over. Surely, what I am doing is not as horrible as what he did.
The delicately varnished nails on Bao's fingertips gently graze my palm and at the tickling sensation, I look up to her. She looks at me as well, her hazel eyes resting light as a feather on my own. I force a small smile, hoping that it will hide my hideousness.
I sneak a glance to Bao's closed eyes. I can see the strength of her dependence on what I feed to her painted on them like a fine white powder pasted across her eyelids. I hope that she does not become too attached to me; that she does not feel this as she felt that youth from before… but to kiss her is to feel everything freedom should feel like—it feels like ecstasy… but not for the right reasons. I flinch as I remember sharing a kiss much as this one with Carrie Ann, the pain piercing my heart as a bullet would. Bao moves away from me, her eyes wide with surprise and worry.
"Are you okay?" she asks in her delicate, angelic voice. I look into her eyes, my heart aching at what I am doing to her, the lies I fill her ears and heart with. Uncertainty rises within me like bile, creating a similar taste in my mouth; I cannot bear to stare into the face of innocence this way. I look away quickly and she moves to be closer, hugging me. When I muster the strength to look back at her eyes, I see only concern and it strikes me with guilt again.
"I…" I stutter, unable to speak. She looks on with so much sympathy that it pains even me. She has clearly mistaken my guilt for sorrow from what I told her only moments before, but I can say nothing. I almost clasp her hand, but I cannot bring myself to do it. My hand falls weakly to my side and I look back at the small, flowering gardenia, which is a harsh reminder of the fragility that I walk upon. Its silvery-white bloom illuminates the darkness, a sharp contrast in the darkness of the night.
Beside me, Bao's downcast eyes look all the more doll-like, her eyelashes thick and dark, framing her almond eyes and making the pain in them more eloquent than any lie I've yet told. I reach to her hand and grasp it, and I wonder if this was what the others looked like when I'd left. If it were, I question if I could bring myself to do this to another, particularly one as delicate and scarred as Bao. I should never have placed myself here. I look at our hands, which are entwined.
Mine that has touched so many others, that has committed sin after sin without repent. Mine—that has done things that would disgust the angel beside me. I feel dirty and both too full and somehow incomplete.
And grasping my dirty hands as if they are dear... are Bao's. Her fingers are slim and long, with porcelain smoothness and free of judgment. They are clearly as innocent as the rest of her. In my mind I can see these hands clasping at a stony wall as her ex boyfriend, Zhi, rapes her. I watch as they shake with fright, watch as they are restrained, watch as they continue to shake even after it's over. Surely, what I am doing is not as horrible as what he did.
The delicately varnished nails on Bao's fingertips gently graze my palm and at the tickling sensation, I look up to her. She looks at me as well, her hazel eyes resting light as a feather on my own. I force a small smile, hoping that it will hide my hideousness.