Explosive chemistry

After all the intense, unbelievable pleasure comes the inevitable pain. I watch out of the train window at the melting ice with patches of white thawing out leaving behind grit and mud. It’s nice the winter snap seems to have left us perhaps spring will be on the way soon and bring a bit of colour too.

My reflection looks back at me through the tunnels and my eyes look shiny and sad, tears not far from beneath my skin. Last night was a joy I haven’t felt for a long time but as I pull away from it I’m getting closer to my real life and I don’t want to face it. 

This morning I stayed for lunch and I realise why I don’t usually do it, because after being so incredibly intimate, both experiencing levels of euphoria unlike any other, we’re back to how we were at uni and I can’t be how I want to be. I am naturally clingy and tactile and he is not. And that makes me wonder what he’s thinking, I’m so used to reading his body and not being able to reach out to it confuses me. Occasionally he will touch me affectionately as he passes, but he won’t ever put his arms out for a hug. Unless drunk. With alcohol we’re so familiar, so passionate, so open. We laugh easily and it’s just meant to be. As soon as it’s over, the doors are closed again. We fell asleep in each other’s arms listening to some country song through his latest speaker system, where you called out to it and it would play what you asked. The song wasn’t too bad but as my eyes closed I wish I could have called out and ask it to play Nick Drake’s Northern Sky but it wasn’t my place, nor was it the time. That track is reserved for my memory of joe and maybe a feature man who will delight in the beauty of that entire album with me one day. Dan wouldn’t understand it or like it anyway. So I drifted off knowing that this was all it was, all it was ever going to be. Known it all along but in person, it’s all the more true. 

In the morning I wake and he’s already there, looking at his phone screen and soon he’s up and about. His body clock is set for early to follow his religious routine of food and gym and I try and slot into it.

Deep inside, he’s nearly there and he comes forward to kiss me and I’m so happy I remember it because I feel with every time we maybe get a bit closer. A climatic peak we’ve never reached before, I wonder if I ever will again. Perhaps he feels a freedom with me which he hadn’t ever felt with anyone else before, and perhaps it’s me having him in a way I’d never thought possible that makes for an explosive sort of chemistry. The kind that keeps us coming back for more. A kiss that melts me in his doorway, his hands that know every inch of me, a confidence that grows with every layer of clothing shed. I’m broke but I’ve got some memories that will last me a lifetime. 

These thoughts pass my mind as we sit and watch scrubs. It’s funny, and it’s nice to be comfortable and warm but I know that soon I’ll need to move and brave the train back home where uncertainty lies and the conversation will finally need to be had, the one we’ve been avoiding. 

‘Aw you look nice,’ he said as I re-entered his room after getting ready for the day. I smile he looks at me, then away, then back at me again. I want to do it all over again, why cant I just say that? Why can’t I speak what’s really on my mind? Why do I retreat and follow his orders? I suppose it’s his home, I don’t feel like I’m truly able to. 

But we still laugh as we play retro video games, he bought me something especially for lunch and we eat then he gets ready. The drive to the station is the usual sort of chat, the car, the houses, it’s pretty much business as usual. I’d like to tell him what I’ve got coming up in the next few weeks but he’s not interested. Maybe I need to broach the situation much like Dan approaches his own life; with vigour and without emotion. 

I have too much heart, it holds me back. I know he’d tell me the same. 

At least I don’t have as much alcohol racing through my veins this time, thankfully I’m learning slowly. I’ve never been one of those people who really wants to drink themselves into oblivion. But it always sounds appealing. 

This journey I’m listening to music and it’s not making me feel as numb as previous times. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps it’s because I know the drill now, I know our pattern. I’ve sent him the messages and perhaps he’ll take days to reply, perhaps we’ll arrange to meet again, perhaps we won’t. Maybe we won’t meet again. That’s a thought that hits me every now and then. I feel like every time we meet though, we plant another little spore inside each other which means we’ll return one way or another. I think we will. Possibly for the rest of my life, who knows? I think about that and wonder what he thinks. Is he really as one dimensional as he appears? He doesn’t try to be anything other than himself. Maybe he’s as lost as me, and he’s just as good at hiding it under this facade of professionalism and success. 

Yes, last night was a dream, something I’ve never felt as raw or as passionately before in my life. For that I am thankful. The guilt is ever present of course, I will never be able to truly let myself give in to it, but eventually maybe everything will sort out and we’ll both be closer. 

Who knows. I’m not looking forward to getting home, it’s going to be odd not having my brother there. I hope he’s settling in okay in his new flat. 

Just got to keep busy and hope for the best. Hope that I’ll be able to stay strong.