I've done it again – that is to say, written a completely random, senseless one-shot that seemed to grab my inspirational balls so hard until I'd hit puberty prematurely, squeaking so high that I simply had to write. I was reading a review of Flashlight, and someone said this:
[But I'm still happy Paul finally got some recognition from Suze. Apart from being her cry-to guy.
And I was gone. Because…that's Paul, isn't it? Suze's "illicit kisses" boy. The one she loses control with.
So this is Paul's story.
Moments of Weakness
Who am I?
What is it exactly that I mean to you? I know I scare you. This pleases me. I know that if nothing else, you fear me. At least this way you acknowledge that I'm in your life, which is the first step.
But there's more to it, isn't there?
There are reasons why I scare you; reasons you'd care not to think about, or they'd interrupt your seemingly perfect fraudulent relationship. Whenever I'm near you, I can hear your heart go that little bit faster. Your blinking quickens, and you avoid my gaze pointedly; too much would be revealed if our eyes ever locked, correct? You hide so many secrets away from me… or so you think. You're more transparent than you realise.
I move closer, you edge away. I look at you, you flush at the insult.
You know what I want. And that terrifies you.
But not as much as the truth does.
The truth about what you want.
I can only imagine the purgatory you must be in. I know you love him…to some extent – however much you can love someone like him. And then, there's me. I tear you up inside; I confuse you. Everything you thought you wanted starts to fall away when I'm there, and you're thinking about me. Suddenly, he isn't enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy.
And here I am, always waiting. Patiently, I pray for your moments of weakness – the moments where our fingers touch for milliseconds too long as I pass you pages in our shifting classes. The spark of energy ignites you. I hear you gasp. Your eyes flicker to mine, and the joint desire binds us in time. You can't help yourself; you press against me, lips soft and fast on mine as I lower you down against the mattress, reaching for all that I can. I must act fast; this heaven is fleeting. You do not give in very often.
Again, I'm pushed away.
I'm blamed. Of course, I initiated – of course, I forced it from you, and of course, I can't expect it to happen again… you were, after all, just having a bad day. Excuses slip from lips that can still taste me.
But now he's gone, isn't he… and here you are again, on my doorstep in the pelting rain. Your hair is plastered wetly against your forehead, and you're panting. You're shivering. Your eyes are dead. You're numb, and you need to feel.
You enter my home and shove me against my own wall, a wild heat burning to escape your tiny, shaking form. My hands slide to your waist and I drag you into me. I need you like a drug, as always… whenever you're available to me, I just can't say no. It drives me mad at night when I think about my obsession with you; my longing to feel your skin simmer against mine, your hair knotted in my fingers, my teeth grazing your pulsing throat.
You won't stay for long.
Soon, you'll remember who and what I am.
You'll remember why you came – a moment of weakness. You'll realise what you've done, but will try not to dwell on it. It wasn't your fault, of course. I'm the low, pathetic cry-to guy that you just can't get enough of. And I'm nothing more.
Even if I can get you to feel again…
I should turn you away. This does me no good, letting you use me like you do. I give you fire when your heart is cold and dead. I give you compassion when you're lonely and scared. And it's all free. I'd do anything for you. Say the word, and it's yours.
Whatever it takes.
And you know it.
…I should stop.
But how can I? You just…need me so badly... How can I possibly send you away, so cold and alone?
The rain screams against the ground outside; the wind howls, mocking my vulnerability. You pant beneath me, careful not to say anything. I know you're not thinking about me. Only what I'm doing to you. You love it…how I make you feel. You just wish it were someone else…
And you're there, right along with me. I can feel you, surrounding me. I smile. Pleasure is sharp and fleeting, but it tastes so sweet. You mouth opens, and you scream so silently that I shudder within you. You don't look at me. If you did, then it'd be too real – he'd really be gone, and you'd really be mine. You would never let that happen.
…The storm ends, and you're gone again.
I sit on my bed, staring at my hands. I feel empty, but there's an odd sense of happiness in my heart. It makes no sense… but I'm almost content with the fact that I've found some way in. Even if it's only in your moments of weakness.
Because I know you'll be back for me.
I know it, Suze.
You're just as weak as I am against you.
So I'll wait…