Status: Completed
'Cause the Hardest Part of This is Leaving You.
Skylines And Turnstiles Part II
In the kitchen, I swill my mouth out with water at the sink and spit it out. My spit looks slimy, it's pulling so slowly towards the plug-hole that I have to chase it down with more water. The sink is freezing against my skin.
I turn off the light and watch my family through the window. They stand together on the lawn, sorting through the last of the fireworks. Dad holds each one up and shines the torch at it. They all choose one, shut the box, and all three of them walk away down to the garden.
Perhaps I'm dead. Perhaps this is all it will be. The living will carry on in their world- touching, walking. And I'll continue in this empty world, tapping soundlessly one the glass between us.
I walk to the front door, push it open, shut it behind me and sit on the step. The undergrowth rustles, as if some night creature is trying to hide itself from me, but I don't freak out, don't even move. As my eyes adjust I can see the fence and the bushes that line it. I can see the street beyond the gate quite clearly, streetlights splashing across the pavement, slanting across other peoples cars, reflecting from peoples windows.
I smell onions. Kebabs. If my life was different, I'd be out with Lindsey. We'd have chips. We'd be standing on some street corner, licking salty fingers, waiting for action. But instead, I'm here. Dead on the doorstep.
I hear Frank before I see him, the guttural roar of his bike. As he gets closer, the night vibrates the air, so that the trees seem to dance. He stops outside his gate, switches off the engine and turns off his lights. Silence and darkness descends again as he unclips his helmet, threads it thorough the handlebars and pushes the bike up the drive.
I mostly believe in chaos. If wishes came true, my bones wouldn't ache as if all the space inside them is used up. There wouldn't be a mist in the front of my eyes that I can't brush away.
But watching Frank walk up the path feels like a choice. The universe might be random, but I can make something different happen.
I step over the low wall that separates our front gardens. He's locking the bike to the gate at the side of his house. He doesn't see me. I walk up behind him. I feel powerful and certain.
" Frank? "
He turns around, startled " Shit! I thought you were a ghost! " There's a cold-washed smell to him, as if he's an animal out of the night. I take a step closer.
" What are you doing? " He says
" We said we'd be friends. "
He looks confused. " Yeah. "
" I don't want to be. "
There's space between us, and in that space there's darkness. I take another step, so close that we share a breath. The same one. In and out.
" Gerard, " He says. I know it's a warning, but I don't care.
" What's the worst that could happen? "
" It'll hurt, " He says.
" It already hurts. "
He nods very slowly. And it's like a hole in time, as if everything stops and this one minute, where we look at each other so close, is spread out between us. As he leans towards me, I feel a strange warmth filtering through me. I forget the my brain is full of every sad face at every window I've ever passed. As he leans closer, I feel only the warmth of his breath on my skin.
We kiss very gently. Hardly at all, like we're not sure. Our lips are the only place where we touch.
We stand back and look at each other. What words are there for the look that passes from me to him and back again? Around us all the night things gather and stare. The lost things found again.
" Shit, Gee! "
" It's alright, " I tell him. " I won't break. "
And to prove it, I push him back against the wall of his house and keep him there. And this time it's not about tenderness. My tongue is in his mouth, searching, meeting his. His arms wrap me warm. His hands is on the back of my neck. I melt there. My hands slide down his back. I press myself closer, but it's not close enough. I want to climb inside him. Live in him. Be him. It's all tongue and longing. I lick him, take small bites on the edge of his lips.
I never realized I was this hungry.
He pulls away. " Shit, " He says. " Shit! " And he runs his hand through his hair; it gleams wet, animal dark. The streetlights blaze in his eyes. " What's happening to us? "
" I want you, " I tell him.
My heart's thumping. I feel absolutely alive.
I turn off the light and watch my family through the window. They stand together on the lawn, sorting through the last of the fireworks. Dad holds each one up and shines the torch at it. They all choose one, shut the box, and all three of them walk away down to the garden.
Perhaps I'm dead. Perhaps this is all it will be. The living will carry on in their world- touching, walking. And I'll continue in this empty world, tapping soundlessly one the glass between us.
I walk to the front door, push it open, shut it behind me and sit on the step. The undergrowth rustles, as if some night creature is trying to hide itself from me, but I don't freak out, don't even move. As my eyes adjust I can see the fence and the bushes that line it. I can see the street beyond the gate quite clearly, streetlights splashing across the pavement, slanting across other peoples cars, reflecting from peoples windows.
I smell onions. Kebabs. If my life was different, I'd be out with Lindsey. We'd have chips. We'd be standing on some street corner, licking salty fingers, waiting for action. But instead, I'm here. Dead on the doorstep.
I hear Frank before I see him, the guttural roar of his bike. As he gets closer, the night vibrates the air, so that the trees seem to dance. He stops outside his gate, switches off the engine and turns off his lights. Silence and darkness descends again as he unclips his helmet, threads it thorough the handlebars and pushes the bike up the drive.
I mostly believe in chaos. If wishes came true, my bones wouldn't ache as if all the space inside them is used up. There wouldn't be a mist in the front of my eyes that I can't brush away.
But watching Frank walk up the path feels like a choice. The universe might be random, but I can make something different happen.
I step over the low wall that separates our front gardens. He's locking the bike to the gate at the side of his house. He doesn't see me. I walk up behind him. I feel powerful and certain.
" Frank? "
He turns around, startled " Shit! I thought you were a ghost! " There's a cold-washed smell to him, as if he's an animal out of the night. I take a step closer.
" What are you doing? " He says
" We said we'd be friends. "
He looks confused. " Yeah. "
" I don't want to be. "
There's space between us, and in that space there's darkness. I take another step, so close that we share a breath. The same one. In and out.
" Gerard, " He says. I know it's a warning, but I don't care.
" What's the worst that could happen? "
" It'll hurt, " He says.
" It already hurts. "
He nods very slowly. And it's like a hole in time, as if everything stops and this one minute, where we look at each other so close, is spread out between us. As he leans towards me, I feel a strange warmth filtering through me. I forget the my brain is full of every sad face at every window I've ever passed. As he leans closer, I feel only the warmth of his breath on my skin.
We kiss very gently. Hardly at all, like we're not sure. Our lips are the only place where we touch.
We stand back and look at each other. What words are there for the look that passes from me to him and back again? Around us all the night things gather and stare. The lost things found again.
" Shit, Gee! "
" It's alright, " I tell him. " I won't break. "
And to prove it, I push him back against the wall of his house and keep him there. And this time it's not about tenderness. My tongue is in his mouth, searching, meeting his. His arms wrap me warm. His hands is on the back of my neck. I melt there. My hands slide down his back. I press myself closer, but it's not close enough. I want to climb inside him. Live in him. Be him. It's all tongue and longing. I lick him, take small bites on the edge of his lips.
I never realized I was this hungry.
He pulls away. " Shit, " He says. " Shit! " And he runs his hand through his hair; it gleams wet, animal dark. The streetlights blaze in his eyes. " What's happening to us? "
" I want you, " I tell him.
My heart's thumping. I feel absolutely alive.