27 November 2012
My voice shaking, I clutched the phone and told him the whole story. How I had suddenly collapsed at school, how it keep happening over the weekend, and how I had finally gone to the doctor to receive horrifying information. He stopped me there and told me to come to his loft. I clambered into my car and drove downtown, scared of what was to come. One by one the seconds passed in the elevator as it rushed to the top. I found the spare key in the plant outside his door and let myself in. He sat on his bed, head in his hands, staring out the ceiling-to-floor window. I sat next to him and, without looking at me, he asked "so are you going to...?" I swallowed hard and answered "I'm going to die." He closed his eyes and I looked down at my hands. We sat in silence as the city below breathed life. "How long?" I looked up at him, startled. His eyes were still closed and he asked again, his voice barely over a whisper. "How long?" I swallowed hard and answered "...a week." His eyes snapped open and he finally looked at me. His look startled me as his eyes bore into mine. A look I had never seen cross his face in all the time I've known him. Terror washed over his face and for once he looked vulnerable. "A week left to live?" His voice shook slightly and his hands balled into fists. I looked down at my hands and nodded. "Seems almost cliche." I laughed halfheartedly and wiped a stray tear from my eye. He caught my wrist and I looked back up. Then, hesitantly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against my own. He pulled away to look at me, and leaned forward again, his lips gently pressing against mine. I began to shake slightly as he slid his hand onto my hip and my mouth became a small O of surprise. Then he pressed his forehead against mine and quietly whispered "stay....with me." My hands, shaking, slowly reached up and wrapped around the broad expanse of his back. The world seemed to spin and jerk. I, on the other hand, felt secure. In that moment, he had become my anchor. We sat in that small span of the time I had left but we were infinite. Time had stopped. Just for me. But time couldn't be kind forever. I felt the world start again. My grip on his shirt relaxed as the sounds of the street below returned. He pulled away to study my face. His eyes betrayed no emotion this time. I felt it then. The crushing weight of the realization that I wouldn't see him again after this week. My eyes welled with tears. His eyes turned worried. Scared. "Did I say something? Awh hell. I'm sorry, Schyler. Honest. I didn't mean to...well yeah I did but-hell." He struggled for words. I leaned into him, my arms curling upward to cling to his broad shoulders. My eyes still wet, I burrowed my face into his chest. "Shhh." I whispered into his shirt. "That's not why I'm crying Adrian." "It....it's not?" "No. Of course not." I snuggled closer, mentally sending him all of the love and fear that was beginning to overtake my body. He pushed me away. Or so I had thought. His lips were suddenly upon mine. Gentle. Sweet. My arms snaked around his neck and slid into his spiked, purple hair. I suddenly wanted all of him. I knew my time was limited enough already. I knew he could tell. He slid me onto his lap and gently tugged on my lower lip. A small moan of pleasant surprise escaped my lips. His hands dragged down my sides and pulled back up to the small of my back. He pulled me closer. There was no space between our bodies. Our tongues explored and our hands grasped. Slowly, he pulled us down onto the bed. We were already breathing heavily. I pulled up and looked into his eyes. They were already dark and lustful. Captivating and seductive. His hands wandered over my body. His lips caressed every curve on my body. His words, though quiet whispers, echoed sweet nothings into my ear. His body was pressed against mine. His soul mingled with my own. We were becoming one. Our clothes were soon discarded and he had thrown our phones into his closet. "Let's leave the world." He had whispered, kissing my collarbone. I gladly obliged. Gentle touches, little sighs. The ice in the cup on his nightstand shifted. Heavy breathing, clawing, scratching. The perspiration pooled on the table. He rolled on top of me and held his weight on his elbows. Bright green eyes bore into my blue ones. Time was beginning to slow down again. He relaxed and buried his face in my neck. I slowly traced patterns on his back. "You are not allowed to leave me." He murmured. "God can try all he wants but he's not getting you back." Gentle lips pressed against my neck.
Time stopped.
One Week • Opuss № I