Is This Love?

As if suddenly Flame came to and pushed me away, staring at me wide eyed. His mouth opened and closed quickly, looking like a fish out of water. “What… What was that?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly while he spoke. I tried to take a step forward, but he took one back shaking his head. It’s not like I could blame it on being drunk, I hadn’t been drinking since I was there for work and him, well, he just wanted to see his band. Flame’s head was shaking, he knew how inappropriate what I just did was. I was meant to work as his mentor, not trying to get into his pants like I had planned when I first saw him. Still, he did kiss me back; he couldn’t shift all the blame on to me.

“That was a kiss,” I said sarcastically, trying to make a joke about the whole thing might get him to relax.

“I know that but why?”

“If you knew then why did you ask?” I ask simply, taking a step towards him now but seeing he wasn’t moving. It was like he was trying to read my face or any signs that what I was saying was a lie, like he was waiting for to say how much of a joke this whole thing was, that it was just a dirty trick. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Flame stayed completely still, staring at me until slowly nodding flushing embarrassed before ducking his head, shoving his hands in his pocket and continued walking to where I parked the car. I followed, regretting my decision to kiss him like I did; obviously there was more to the Kid than what he was letting on. I couldn’t put my finger on it but that wasn’t the reaction I normally got when I kissed someone. Normally it was filled with lust, passionate and things quickly lead from one thing to another. With him, with him it felt like he instantly regretted it… no, more like he couldn’t let himself enjoy it.

The car ride was silent. Complete and utter silence. The only noise coming from the car’s engine and the sound of indicators. When I would glance over at the boy, his body was completely stiff and turned away from me, glaring out of the window like it personally offended him. Every time I tried to think of something to say, nothing seemed right. It was the most awkward car journey of my life. I dropped him off at the campus, trying to keep sight of him for as long as I could, the need to explain myself always there.

Deciding against going out and trying to explain myself, try to go against the reputation he’s probably aware of, and tell him that yeah I’m a womaniser but you’ll have a good time along the way? No, the kid is far too innocent for that. I’d hate to be the one to destroy that.

I arrived to my apartment, my body going into auto drive as I greeted the doorman, greeted the receptionist, rode the lift and entered my apartment, the only thing stopping me was the figure of someone I haven’t seen in six years. The strong, confident, dominating figure of Damien. My older brother. He hasn’t changed, not one bit, he can still fill a room with the mere presence of him.

Tom seemed huddled on the sofa; he’s not used to new people being here, especially those who physically abused him in the past. He likes to put up this act that he can take what he can dish and verbal that’s true, but when anything becomes physical he sinks back into his shell and that’s when I’m there to help bail him out. I drop my keys loudly, getting Tom’s attention instantly, his large eyes seeking mine for any sense of comfort. I mouth if he’s okay and he nods, if a bit timidly.

I have to get over my shock of seeing my older brother quickly, for Tom’s sake.

“Day,” I greet, my voice coming out strong and firm but no sense of comfort or affection in those words. “What are you doing here?”

He turns slowly, his eyes directing a cold, hard stare to Tom. I return the same look to him, knowing how I can be intimidating when it chooses me and right now it does. He’s in my house, my turf, my territory, what ever happens between the two of us I have the upper hand.

“Felix,” Damien returns with a curt nod, making his black hair fall over his eyes again, something our mum always used to nag about. She used to say how improper it looked, how you could never see his gorgeous grey eyes, but now it works as a barrier between us. A way for him to hide his inner emotions from me, as that was his weakness; his eyes were always too expressive. His eyes flicker briefly to Tom and then back to me, it may have been six years but I can still read him like it was yesterday.

“Tom leave us,” I say softly, giving him a small apologetic smile. Tom huffs, glancing back to Damien and then me again contemplating whether he should leave or not, whether he should stay here and help me out. “Tom,” I say again with more force, tearing my gaze away from him and fixing it back on my brother. That seem to do the trick as from the corner of my eye I could see him leave going to my bedroom, dragging his feet as he went.

Damien slowly walked towards me now, walking with a purpose, like how a shark would circle its prey before attacking. This wasn’t something I was going to let happen, Damien was always a fan of drama, of dragging things out to intensify them. It always used to piss me off.

“Damien.” I say sharply. “Say what you’ve come to say and get out. I’ve had a long day.”

“Oh I am sorry Felix,” he started slowly through gritted teeth. I could practically hear the eye roll from where I was standing. “Sorry that I wanted to spend more than five minutes in my little brother’s company. It’s not like it’s been years has it?”

I could see what he was trying to do, but emotional blackmail stopped working when I turned 15 and finally opened my eyes to the ways of my dad. We weren’t a family now and we certainly weren’t one now. “Emotional blackmail, really? I thought you had more class than that.”

He shook his head and dropped something on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Despite my better judgement I was intrigued and walked forwards, being the closest I’ve been to my brother in years. He still smelt the same; he still dressed the same, leather jacket, eye liner. Everything you thought a respectable man shouldn’t dress like, but when he dressed like this was reserved for his lovers and people he didn’t care about. The only thing we shared was our hatred to settle down, the need to play the field, much to the annoyance and frustration to our parents. Yet that was the only vice he had.

The item on the table was a card. A plain card, just with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on the top in script, simplicity but feminine at the same time. Then it hit me, today was my mother’s birthday. The woman I’ve barely spoken a word to over the past six years, the woman who didn’t resemble a mother figure for the majority of my life. I could see it in her eyes; I could see it in my father’s eyes, why do you need two sons when you’ve already got one, one that hasn’t already screwed up?

“She misses you,” he said softly. The distinct change in tone made me look at him, to really look at him for the first time in years. I saw the tiredness around his eyes, the slight show of bags contrasting to his pale skin. His hair messy, clearly by fingers constantly running through it, not that being the intended style. I’ve never studied anyone half of much as I studied him in that instant, not knowing the next time I would see him again, even if there was going to be a next time.

I sighed and gripped my hair tightly, tugging on it slightly. “Don’t,” I say sharply, fixing a tired gaze on him. This was a tired argument, one that had been going on since we were teenagers, him trying to convince me to give them a chance, to see that they aren’t the monster my mind had thought them to be. We knew the lines we were about to say, spending years rehearsing and rehearsing what we would say to each question; there was no need to bring it up again apart from the sense of familiarity it provided us with. “She could have phoned.”

“So could have you,” he says with a shrug, giving me a pointed state. He has a point, I could have, but what would I stay? No, it would have been too painful on both our halves.

“I’m her son.”

“She’s your mother.”

“She should have made an effort with me! Why should I remember her birthday when I got nothing on mine, or at Christmas. Nothing. No note, no card, no phone call, no text. Even I managed a text the first few years!” I had to defend myself, I wasn’t about to let Damien feel guilty about finally moving away from the family that never wanted me.

“Stop being a fucking child Felix! Grow. Up. You’re 24, we let you get away with being a selfish brat some of the time when you were young just because you didn’t know any better, but running away when you were…”

“I didn’t run away!”

“Yes you did. You’re a fucking coward, that’s what you are. A coward. You always have been you always will be, when anything gets too tough for you, you run and never look back. They’re getting older now; you can’t keep expecting them to go after you. There’s only so much they can do. They’re not the villains you think they are, they’re just people,” he answered, calmly and smoothly like he had perfected what he wanted to say and I wouldn’t put that past him.

The calmness, how at ease he seemed saying this pushed me over the edge. He didn’t just get to come into my life and start dictating what to do and how to act; I guess that’s why I punched him. Straight and hard on the jaw. Watching him stumble back gave me satisfaction, properly more than it should of. The judging look I received in return was definitely the reason why I punched him on the nose, his blood dripping across my knuckles.

It didn’t take long for him to react, fist went flying, and grunts when they collided filled the air around us. I put it down to this pent up aggression that’s been bubbling under the surface between us for years, it was healthy in a strange way to get it out of our systems. The fight ended with both us having a wide distance from each other, leaning against something and staring hard at each other, trying to work out what each other’s next move would be. Damien just sighed, dropped his eyes and straightened his jacket and left without another word, I doubt I would hear from him again unless it was me doing the calling.

When Tom crept out of my room I don’t know, I was sit staring blankly at the spot my brother just stood practically jumping out off my skin when he placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook myself out of my thoughts, turned on my heels and stormed out barely hearing Tom’s call of my name.

My mind was on auto pilot as I drove, glaring at the screen, my hands gripping the wheel like I could strangle it under my touch. So far in one day I had managed to ruin two relationships, which had to be a new record.

My brain didn’t connect with where I was until the door was open and my mouth was crashing on to his. The sheer intensity caused him to stumble, his back hitting the hallway wall sharply. I kicked the door shut and licked into his mouth, my hand gripping his waist and pulling him closer. It’s never been gentle between me and Ezra. It’s never needed to.

“Felix,” he groaned, stretching out the e as he spoke, his eyes closed as his head dropped back. I used this to lick, nip my away across his neck roughly, leaving marks here and there as I pleased. His body shuddered as my slipped under his shirt to feel the tort skin underneath. He groaned again as I dropped my lips to his collar bone and grounded my hips against his.

Clothes were discarded, more torn from our bodies, decorating the room’s floor. The back of his legs hit the sofa, toppling us both over on to it. I straddled his waist, groaning at the feeling of friction. Skin moved against skin, lips crashing against each other’s mouths in an attempt to muffle the noise. Ezra was loud in bed, a trait I found funny due to how calm he seemed in the office yet outside he was completely different. His teeth bit hard, his nails dragged down my back probably leaving a mark, and his hands groped pulling me closer as he did so. It didn’t take long before we were both crying out, lying limply on top of each other.

Ezra moved to the side, giving me some room on the sofa but my leg still hung off the side. He seemed quiet afterwards, not looking to me just staring at the ceiling, me doing completely the same. It wasn’t an awkward silence, at least not to me, just time to reflect on what happened or why it happened. It wasn’t attentive or caring, just primitive and full of lust. Scratching each other’s itch, that was all.

He didn’t ask questions, just sighed and looked at me waiting for me to explain why I was currently naked and lying on his bed. I shrugged, gave his shoulder a light kiss over what seemed a harsh bruise and stared back up at the ceiling, not really wanting to get up and leave. I felt him move beside me, propping himself up on his elbow. I looked back over to him and his eyes seemed to be assessing me, slowly.

“You can stay the night,” he began but then paused, his eyes seemed to be unsure for a second but I might have imagined that. “If you want.” With that he got up and walked to where I assumed his room was, leaving me naked on the couch in the cold. I looked over where he walked off to and saw that the door was still slightly ajar. I left the cold, emptiness and joined the warmth he provided even if it was only brief.