One Shot

The first time I saw him, a red alarm sounded in my ears. He was very tall six feet or more and from my perspective, despite my pride claim that I was tall in my five feet and five inches, he was a mountain. I joke a little bit in mind that there really are mountains beyond mountains, literally. His arms were covered with tattoo peeking in his shirt and as well as his nape, it ends a little bit under his left jaw.

When my boy friends told me that tattoo teases them, that it makes them want to know where the tattoo start and where it ends... I realize that 'ahhh, this is what it feels like'. If I only knew that there's a sex innuendo there, the first time I saw him, I would already know that I was sexually attracted.

After meeting him in our classroom, I limit my contact with him as much as possible. He was my definition of overwhelming. I would try to hold eye contact with him when we share some conversations but instead of calming my nerves, it makes me want to run away.

I could never understand my anxiety and restlessness whenever I'm with him. And as I'm the type of person that really hates things that is beyond my understanding, I tend to run away from it.

And that goes on for years.

Well, I've settled for years with little interaction with him. I think that that distance that separate as had made me comfortable enough to not mind my peculiar reaction whenever I'm with him.

In the fourth year that he was my classmate, I can, without a doubt admit that I truly fuck up. I was then drinking my water while I was walking and talking with my friend and I accidentally bump into him and he had all his notebooks thrown in the floor, with my water raining on them.

Shocked, I hurriedly tried to recover everything that I can in those pile of nasty shit. I can still remember that when I raise one of the notebooks, it was filled with water that the page separated from the strings. There was no excuse then. All I can do was offered to him that I'll his notes and I was very sorry.

That event brought us together. We became very close friends after being together for weeks just to fix his notebook. I learned how to slowly control myself in interacting with him. It was going on smoothly.

We talked about everything under the sun and shared secrets. He told me about his families, his dreams, and fears. Talking with him and being his friend was a very novel feeling for me. I like how he talked about his brother; I can see in his eyes his adoration for him while his mouths speak otherwise.

I love how his eyes sparkled talking about his dream of being a becoming a chemist. He was very passionate about the things he loved. He'd share some of his jokes that never failed to make me laugh but it squeezes my heart to hear about any girls that tried to make a move on him.

But it was very conflicting how I'd gaze into his eyes and thought how fascinating it would be if his passion were directed to me. Would his eyes sparkle if I'd kiss him deeply, I'd fantasize about his lips, muscles, and his topless image in my mind. All that I can to was squeezed my legs to prevent myself from becoming to wet just imagining myself in bed with him.

That's why when he confessed to me, I swear I heard the angel's sing. I can't believe it. I feel like I'm in the top of the world. It was a peculiar feeling. I was so happy that my heart clenched in pain. Being happy can actually hurt your heart.

Everything that happened between us was like a dream. I feel like I was floating every time he'd hold my hand. I love feeling his skin against mine. Becoming his lover was a whole new feeling. He'd make me feel so happy that my heart would clench. Or when I was jealous, I'd get snappy and lashed out, he knew me too well to know how to smoothen my furs when I'm being prickly.

I'd sometimes wondered if God made a mistake in sending him to me because he was too good to be true and he made me feel out of this world. I love him very much; I would repeatedly said to myself that I was too lucky to have met him. He treated me with respect, love, devotion, and loyalty.

I would wake up in the middle of the night gazing at his face wondering how everything could be so fucking perfect whenever I'm with him. I could list out so may things that is good about him. I loved him very much. As I looked into his eyes, staring at me that moment, for the very first time I regretted that I loved him so much like how he loved me.

***

Staring at the mirror, I could see my being clearly reflected in it. I tilted my head and saw the tattoo that she personally engraves in my skin, it was in my collarbone was binary code that wrote: 01110011-01111001-01101100. I asked why she wanted in written in code, she simply shrugged her shoulder and told me that it's written in code because she don't like me to know. I told her that I could just searched it up, but she said that I shouldn't and promised her.

I asked her again why she doesn't want me to know. She just replied that she wanted to claim me in the way she knows. And I let her. I've never tried to figure it out even after all these years. I notice that the girl I was with last night stood at the door of the bathroom gazing at me. Her neck and chest are full of hickeys I left last night. She didn't stay standing there after she notice that I was looking at her, her hand creeped in my skin as she hugged me from the back. She looked small too small trying to hug me from the back.

I brush her off and told her she could change her clothes and off her way. She laughed and told me that I was really stingy, like the rumor said since I don't even invite her for breakfast. I ignored her and left.

I hated the fact that I would compare her laugh to every girl that I've been with after her. When my friend asks me why I haven't had girlfriends after so many years, I told them that they were not my type. They've tried to match me with someone who resembled her very much but every time she speaks, all that filled my head is the fact that, its nots her voice.

I loved her so much. I think that my purpose in these past years I'm apart with her is to search for her traces in every girl I'm with. The alcohol had eluded me from forgetting her. I bet that its natural since time can't even erase her image in my mind.

How can I forget her?

***

How can he forget me?

…

…

…

I told him that I'm extremely thirsty. His eyes that only cried when he had found out that his brother was abused by his father and mother and was almost sold was again filled with unshed tears that fell after he tried to hold them off as long as he can. I heard him hiccup in his intense cry.

I was then breathless and feel like coughing. And when I did, his breathing hitch and I watched his eyes filled with horror as he watches me vomit blood and lost my consciousness forever.