Butterflies

"This isn't like the first time is it?" He asked me, and he was right; he always was, so perceptive, such a keen sense of observation but how could I tell him how I admired him? How could I tell him how I was shaking like the first time, for me, the only difference was, that this time I knew he didn't want it.

I stayed silent, I couldn't mutter a word in his presence, they never made any sense, like trash they came out discarded and crumpled and fell flat and lifeless before my feet, leaving him, the object of my growing desire, confused or disgusted at my awkward form.

"Maybe this was all a mistake." His perfect lips muttered the words that crushed my soul, I wanted to plead, scream, beg... beg him to take it back, admit that he did want it and the obstacles standing before us didn't matter that somehow, in the midst of all this confusion, love would make it possible.

Maybe not love, but mutual desire if nothing else could he possibly want me as much as I wanted him?

"Hmmm." Was all I could mutter through the fog that clouded my speech, a fog riddled with poisonous passion for this man, poison that would infest my spirit and devour it, without it, I was nothing.

He'd never know this—never know the passion and lust I felt for him, the way my head swam with every kiss. Kisses he was now saying didn't matter, kisses he was discarding, wanting to forget.

"Gerard," He muttered, my name, on his lips, my disgraceful name protruding from his mouth, a mouth I had kissed that now felt like a dagger. "Say something."

I breathed deep, through my nose, not wanting to dry my mouth out anymore than nerves had already done, I didn't want to ruin his taste, I could taste him in my mouth—it was wonderful.

"I don’t know what to say." I answered truthfully, My words echoing around my ears, a pathetic response to his request, a request I should have honoured, given him what he wanted, given him all I could, but instead gave him the minimum, I hadn't even tried.

"Say you agree... or that you don't." he answered, so in control still as a rock and his voice largely more articulate than mine steady and still. His voice, like his every song, touched me.

"Which do you want me to say?" I asked, I wanted to say no, no I didn't agree with him, it was like the first time, better...

"I want the truth... " He mumbled, His hair swam around his shoulders, falling like elegant water as a breeze from a nearby window picked it up and danced through it before setting it down in a different position from before, I couldn't take my eyes from it.

"The truth..." I bowed my head, his eyes burning into me, right through my tongue it felt, a hole in my tongue that stopped my words in their positions, the loss of eye contact gave me a new found hope that I could say what it was that I wanted. "The truth is that, it is like the first time, the question should be whether the first time was good or not"

Bert's hand moved, I could see it through the dark curtain of my hair before my eyes, his hand moved to my shoulder, rested there for a precious moment before dropping back to his side, the sudden break in contact leaving me transparent, my face lifted and I was sure he could see the pleading in my eyes.

"It was." He muttered breathlessly, his eyes moving from mine this time, sending a little dip in my stomach, butterflies racing around, flapping their beautiful wings sending equally beautiful thoughts to my brain, filling it with gorgeous hope that he could feel as I did.

Pin prickled Goosebumps erupted on my skin; every surface of me was filled with them, little bumps of truth that told him of my lack of strength for this conversation. The time I had spent lusting after him, wanting him, had all accumulated in that one night.

We did nothing but kiss but it felt like so much more, a sensation that was more than physical, a collection of every emotion I felt for him, and him for me compacted into one glorious moment in which I pressed my lips to his and the low temperature of them cooled my passion-warmed skin.

It was my turn to initiate the contact, pressing my fingers under his chin I moved his head so his gaze was upon me, he closed his eyes briefly breathing as he did before looking back to me, a twisted smile upon his lips as if trying to figure out if smiling was the action he should be taking. I smiled back, telling him without words that it was ok.

"Gerard, I don't know what to do." He said pleadingly, begging me for an answer—I didn't have one.

Standing there, staring at him, I did the only thing I knew I could, the only thing my body would let me do. I was sure that unless I did it, every muscle in my body would rebel against all thought and do it anyway.

I moved forward to envelope his body in my arms, this act was hazardous enough but with that worry consuming me I pressed my lips to his, in the same communication of my feelings as the first time I had ever kissed him.

There was always the chance that he would reject me, throw me down onto my back and scream at me for taking such a risk, that he had never wanted it to happen. He could say it was just one night, and would never happen again—he could kill me without trying, his brute force alone could crush my body, but his words would crush my soul.

If this happened, I would be left with a glorious regret, a damaged soul and an emptiness that would never be filled by another human being, man or woman. However, I would feel wonderful that, for one moment in time, I had kissed him; I had shown him everything, even if he had thrown my emotions back in my face, and like a razor they had cut through my skin and poisoned my blood.

As I waited for this to happen, the realization dawned on me that, in fact, Bert's lips were caressing my own, His tongue had found its way into my mouth and I could feel the warm breathing from his nose stroking my lips from above.

His hands found their way to my form, my hips fitting into his hands they way a lid fits on a jar, and my jar contained passion, and lust, and a desire I couldn't name for him, pressed myself against him and relished in what was taking place.

A kiss however, can only last for a short time, for to kiss for too long suggests that none of the parties want to deal with the aftermath of the act. As Bert pulled away I lingered, the promise of the tension after this act pressing upon my shoulders with the force of a thousand men.

He looked into my eyes for a second and smiled, "That was like the first time." He said,

I nodded, my previous state of speechlessness returning, as I watched his face darken suddenly, as a wave of something washed over him,

Realization it seemed was the wave as he muttered, "We can't do this."

I saw his knitted brow and felt my own crease, how could there be anything stopping us now? The hard bit, as far as I was concerned, was over.

"Everybody... they'd kill us."

I understood, He had wanted it, he did, but the thought of his fellow band mates and my own finding out was more than any feeling he had for me, he held their regard higher than mine.

As long as I had him, as long as I could taste those lips a thousand times I wasn't worried what anyone would think, we'd make our own world in our kisses and everything else would disappear like ghosts.

"I..." I couldn't find words to tell him this though, I couldn't break through the clouding fog before me and tell him of every feeling I had, because I would, if that was what it took to keep him near me I would tell him everything, but I couldn't, I couldn't make my mouth work.

"I can't Ger, I can't risk everything falling apart; I've worked too hard and too long for this to ruin it." He shook his head and I saw him take a step backwards, making to leave.

I put a hand on his chest, "Don't."

He leaned forward and kissed my lips one last time, "I don't want to." He muttered, "But I just can't do this... I'm sorry."

His apology wasn't a release however; it locked me into the pit of my depression further than I had ever been before. Further than my childhood had ever pushed me, his rejection locked me up and through away the key.

My depression like a giant was in the cell with me, and Bert had locked me in with it, it was ready to destroy me.

"I..." It seemed Bert could find no words either, but instead of searching for them, he turned and left, I watched his back as he left, his shoulder blades making delicate creases in his shirt, and I knew my hands would never run across them again, and I would never know what the rest of his skin tasted like, this realization alone was enough to send me to my knees. As I knelt there, tears caressing my tightened cheeks, I prayed to God, if he was listening, that somehow Bert would find his way back to me, but I knew, in the darkest place in my soul, that god nor I would ever be able to make that real.