Author's note: A 30_kisses challenge; theme
#21; violence
Disclaimer:
Don't know them. Don't own them. No harm intended. Pure fiction.
Una
Pioggia Scarlatta
Layer after layer after layer.
And little did it have to do with the feverish beating
of my stubborn heart.
It was neither fear nor anticipation, as one might have
thought, but something I could have never learned to control.
Amidst the crowds of people that used to bring up the
unpleasant feeling of suffocation, wrapped up in the mist of cigarette smoke, I
never had a carving for, I felt unusually calm and clear-minded.
Opposed to the expected my mind didn’t resent the
idea of total submission, although that was what currently was happening to my
body. It felt as if it had to be done, as if through out my life I had known
that it was what was going to wait for me in the end of the path I had chosen.
As if it had always been my destiny.
My mind was lazily going over and over the same facts: he
doesn’t cares, I am nothing to him. My arms tightened around the man, I
knew nothing about, my body seeking for a release that was not meant.
I made myself believe that I was in control.
//
No strings.
It sounded so simple in the beginning. But they deluded
themselves. Every action has an impact on the course of events. And it had much
to do with physics and little with love.
Not a word.
It was hard to keep their relationship a secret, when
he made it a habit to sneak into other’s bedroom and then walk out together in
the morning. When they could disappear somewhere amidst a party under a false
excuse and then return rumpled and reeking of sex.
No expectations.
It meant nothing. It changed nothing. They could do
without it. It was all about the mutual benefit, really. They had nothing to
discuss. They knew what they did.
No obligations.
It was kind of strange, but instead of getting closer
it seemed as if that thing that was between them made them grew apart.
They rarely talked to each other if it was not needed and they never talked in
the bedroom. Sex didn’t make them gentle or sensitive to other’s needs. They
seemed to be constantly pissed off with each other, too often yelling, never
touching. And if touch they did, a spark would fly sending them apart
immediately.
//
“What is he to you?”
A soft whispered question, a pair of dark eyes.
Changmin. I always thought that he was the smartest of us all, the most
observant one. He was the first to notice the change in our relationship. On the
other hand, you had to be blind not to notice. Or maybe he was just the most
courageous one.
I turned to look at the dark haired boy in question. He
was half turned away from me, but from his tensed pose I could guess that he was
listening. I didn’t know why it was so important to him. He never asked me,
never questioned what was between us or the reasons behind it.
“Yoochun?”
I turned back to the boy who was regarding me with a
concerned look. I smiled at him and flicking the ash off my cigarette said:
“We just fuck.”
I had no reason to lie.
I think I heard Jaejoong erupt in a bitter laughter.
He had none either.
//
Two bodies move in tandem. They know each other too
well, are familiar with each other’s preferences. They need no words to
express what each wants. They have learned the rules of the dance long ago.
The peak is reached, and they lie panting from
exertion. But all too soon after the bliss the reality dawns on them, making one
of them roll off the bed and search for his clothes.
Backs to each other, avoiding eye contact as if it can
make it less real, one of them leaves and the other remains on the bed, faking
sleep.
They know the rules all too well.
//
It was past
A dark figure appeared moving closer to the place where
I stood. My heart was already leaping out of the chest from joy and I was going
through a possible range of questions, when the man stepped into the only source
of light coming from a lonely lamppost, finally making it possible to see his
face. The words froze on my lips.
Yunho blinked at me. He wore a cap, which made it
impossible to recognize him at first; he had no umbrella and was soaked through.
It didn’t prevent him from stopping and actually looking at me in question.
“What are you doing outside?”
I wish I knew it myself.
I tried to make it look as if it was perfectly normal
for a person to stand under the rain at
“Nothing.”
Yunho just arched an eyebrow at me. It was obvious that
he couldn’t decide if he should press me more to hear the truth or just let it
slip. Finally he just shrugged and made it to go past me and enter the house.
Just when he was passing me, he said: “If you are waiting for Jaejoong, I
don’t think he is going to come back.”
Before he could finish, my hand already grabbed his arm
stopping him in his walk.
Is it all in vain?
“What do you know?”
“I know nothing”, Yunho sounded terse and tired. He
made a move to free himself, but my fingers gripped tighter, not letting go.
“What does it mean?”
I had to know. Suddenly it all became so important.
His eyes burned with an unexpected anger as he hissed
the words into my face: “If he still has some kind of pride left, he would
never return to the jerk like you!”
Now I was grabbing the front of his drenched coat with
both of my hands, the umbrella tossed away and forgotten.
“What the fuck does that mean?!”
We were yelling at each other.
“Are you blind?! You treat him worse than a whore and
expect him to return to you?!”
I froze.
The rain was soaking my clothes, making them cling to
my body. It crawled in my hair and ran down my face. But I could hardly feel any
of it.
“I.. don’t..”
A blow came unexpected. It sent me down on my knees, my
head was spinning, my mind dazed. Over the ringing in my head I could hear
Yunho’s words and retreating steps: “If you cared, you would have ended it
all long ago.”
For a moment there was nothing but the rain around me.
My jaw hurt, and I could taste blood on my tongue. I knew I deserved it. And
much more. Because he was right and I had been blind from the very beginning.
“Yoochun?”
I almost missed it, almost thought it was a rustle of
the rain. I raised my head and saw Jaejoong standing few feet away from me, his
face pale and unreadable.
I don’t know him at all.
It took some effort to rise to my feet. He made no
move. He just stood there, letting the rain embrace him. Approaching him I took
notice of his tight pressed lips and wary look of his eyes. We were as good as
strangers. I wish I knew where I had done wrong.
The skin of his bare arms felt cold to my fingers, his
lips were hard and uninviting as I pressed my mouth to his. I leaned back,
leaving his mouth smeared with the blood from my split lip. I looked into his
eyes searching for some kind of emotion. I knew that he cared. He had to. But he
remained silent.
I could smell another man on him, as I wrapped my arms
around his shoulders clinging to him, burying my face in his shirt. “I am glad
you are back”, was all I could whisper to him. And his hands on my back,
returning the hug was much better than any words of forgiveness.
“Don’t go. Never”, I could feel the tears run
down my face mingling with rain and blood.
“I won’t.”
And it sounded like a confession.
//
Footnote:
The title is written in Italian and means “scarlet rain”.