After the Last Midtown Show

You’re never one to be cautious. I’m cautious enough for the both us, I guess. I watch you, leaning up against the brick wall, smoking your third cigarette of the hour. You claim you only smoke when you’re stressing but I know that’s a lie. How could you possibly be stressed right now, after seeing one of the best concerts of the year? You were the one who bought the tickets – you were the one who was so excited you could barely sleep the night before. So in the end, I’ve deemed you a liar about that smoking habit. But that’s alright, because what’s one bad habit?

You look so relaxed right now and it’s almost taunting in a way. I’m a bit on edge, simply because I don’t want us getting caught out after midnight. The concert ended at 11:20, with just enough time for us to get back to our separate houses. But you insisted that we break the rules, once again. Two seventeen year olds out after curfew? We’re practically begging to be caught.

“Can you chill out?” you say suddenly, tapping your cigarette so that the ash falls to your feet. You smile, your lip ring glinting in the light coming from the lamp post only a few feet away. “I’ve got you.”

“What good will ‘I’ve got you’ do when the cops come and drag us downtown to the closest precinct, Matthew?” I shoot back, using your full name and crossing my arms over my chest in my best attempt to look upset. But I’m really not. How could I be?

You laugh loudly and shake your head, flick your cigarette onto the ground. I watch the embers glow, right before you press your foot down on top of it to squash them. “You trust me, don’t you?”

I inhale sharply – this isn’t the first time you’ve ever asked me this, but it still upsets me all the same. How could you ever think I didn’t? “Of course I do-”

Your smile, and the way your eyes light up playfully, is what makes me realize you only asked because you knew it would make me nervous. “Baby you need to take a chill pill and live a little. Twenty minutes past curfew is not something they’re going to drag us down to the station for.”

“Smoking might be,” I mumble under my breath as you pull me into your body. You hold me tight and I can feel your heart beating at its normal pace beneath your hoodie, just one more thing to force me to really believe that you’re actually here. Right here. Right now.

-&-
“Gotta be quiet.”

Your statement is muffled underneath all of the blankets piled on top of us but I get the point – your parents are home. They’re sleeping and they’re getting up early for work tomorrow. They don’t even know I’m here. I’m not really even supposed to be here. But you insisted, and I figured it wouldn’t be so bad. We’ve already broken rules tonight. What’s a few more?

Your hands are cold, pushing my shirt up as quickly as you can. I manage to pull the blankets off our heads so that I can actually breathe and you laugh, pinning my wrists to the mattress. You mumble something along the lines of ‘you’re cute’ but I don’t quite catch it so I can’t be sure.

The way your hands trace my ribs is so familiar and I close my eyes, letting you take over. You always like doing all the work anyway. Makes you feel powerful, or some shit like that. I don’t care either way. I can feel your breath on my neck, hot and heavy. You’re rushing. It’s been a while since we’ve done this.

It’s not long before we’re both where we need to be, clothes on the floor and your bed sheet covering us. I move to turn the bedside lamp off, leaning over onto my side. But you catch me, grab my hips and tell me ‘no’.

“I like being able to see you,” you say, your cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

You lean down and press your lips against mine –maybe to distract me from the fact that you’re embarrassed or maybe because you just wanted to kiss me. I feel you pressing up against me, and I gasp into the kiss as you push in. I arch my back, close my eyes and strain against your hold on my wrists. But I know you’re not going to let me go.

“I love you,” you whisper, words ghosting over my skin. And again, “I love you.”

-&-

At six in the morning, the shower in the bathroom next door turns on, alerting us to the fact that your mom just got up to get ready for her day. Her soft singing floats through the thin walls and I smile – you remind me a lot of her sometimes. Not just in physical features, but personality as well.

I feel you moving, hear you breathing right next to me and I know you’re just trying to get more comfortable. But I wish you would just stay still, because if she hears you’re awake, she’ll come in. I’m not supposed to be here, so of course that wouldn’t end up well. Let her just stay blissfully unaware of my presence and go on with her day. Works out best for all of us.

“She wouldn’t be mad,” you say softly, arms coming around and wrapping around my waist from behind. Your lips brush against the back of my neck as you continue, “She’d probably just be surprised to see you.”

“I’d rather not risk it.”

“You worry too much, Alex.”

You sigh and I know you’re getting frustrated with me and all the worrying I do over nothing (to you, at least). But I feel like someone needs to be concerned. You’re so reckless and carefree. I love that about you. But it’s not always a good thing.

“It’s supposed to be really nice out today,” you say quietly, breaking the silence.

I assume you’re right, only because I can see the rays of sunlight coming in through the curtains, falling across the bed. I turn to look at you, find you looking right back at me and you’re smiling. Your eyes are tired and your smile’s a sleepy one, but you still look so awake somehow.

You realize that I’m watching you and you blush, still smiling as you look down at your hands. You laugh amusedly as you say, “I swear, I’ll never understand how I managed to make you mine.”

-&-

Your weather forecast turned out to be right – for October, it’s rather warm out, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. You’re lying on your back, eyes closed and arms behind your head as you relax. We really should be doing work for school tomorrow – maybe getting started on the Physics project that’s due next week. But I’m not going to bother reminding you about it. It would be in vain, anyway. So I just lie down next to you, arms around your waist and take in the silence of your backyard.

“I know you’re just dying to go back inside and get some textbooks to do homework,” You say a few minutes later, eyes still closed. “You can, you know. I’ll be fine by myself.”

I shake my head, “I’m fine.”

“Shocking,” you mumble, and I weakly elbow you in the side.

I’m not really worried right now. We have time for school later. Time with you, although not rare by any means, is more important to me. I don’t think anybody really understands us – they think we’re too young to understand what love is. But what we have? It’s so much more than that. It’s ours, not theirs to judge. Ours and ours alone.