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"Wicked Game" -Chris Isaak
June 10th, 2013 5:57am
Sometimes it felt like you were back home, your townhome nearly calling for you. The aura of the home always carried a blueish-orange feeling.
There's no doubt about it that you missed your childhood home. Even if your home life wasn't the greatest, you loved the house itself.
A hoarse cough left your throat as you slowly sat up in your bed. It felt rather cold, despite there being a piece of large clothing hugging your body that you couldn't quite remember putting on.
The worn, yellow fabric was massive on you, and it had a wonderful scent to it—that of Brian. The bittersweet scent of the man made your head spin.
Speaking of which, you looked up from your spot on the bed, spotting a figure in the corner of your room. He threw a hoodie over himself—an oversized black one you bought some time ago.
"You don't mind me borrowing this do you?" Brian's voice was hushed as he made his way to the bedside you were sitting on.
He knelt down beside the bed, looking at your tired face. You rubbed your eyes, barely aware of what was going on.
"Where.. where are you going?" Your voice was crackly from just waking up, and it being very early in the morning.
He placed a gloved hand on your shoulder, an empathetic expression forming on his face. "I have to go now, I'll be back for you, I promise." He whispers, it taking a minute for his words to fully set into your tired mind.
"Wait, Brian, no." You nearly cried out, yet still below a whisper. "No, no, you don't have to go, please." You could almost feel the tears swelling up in your eyes.
"Sweetheart, please, don't be upset. It'll be okay. He cupped your cheek, a few tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks.
You choked back your sobs, Brian's arms wrapping gently around you. You hugged him back. You hugged him like you'd never get to hug him again. In your mind, this felt like a final goodbye. But you prayed to god it wasn't true.
"Goodbye, Brian." You choked out, cheeks stained from the hot tears pouring down your face.
He pulls back from your embrace, softly placing a hand on your cheek. His eyes observed you with so much admiration—with more love than he thought he could ever have for someone. More love than he thought he was capable of giving.
He slowly presses his lips to yours, savoring his last few moments with you. It wasn't rushed, or harsh. He kisses you with a sense of passion that he's wanted to give you for a long, long time.
He pulls away slowly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Goodbye for now. I love you." He whispers his final few words, almost quiet enough to where you couldn't hear it.
You couldn't look him in the eye as he pulled himself away from you. You could hear his footsteps leaving the room, before growing so faint—then disappearing completely.
You sat in silence, only the sound of your sniffling could be heard throughout the room—the entire apartment.
It took you a while to force yourself out of your bed. You feel like you're grieving—despite knowing he isn't dead. It just feels like you lost him for good.
The buzzing of your phone snapped you out of your seemingly unending trance. You reach over to your nightstand and shakily pick the phone up.
Before you could even say anything, Tim was on the other line, his breath heavy as it sounded like he was in a car.
"We're almost home—something came up and.. it held us back by a while. Jay isn't looking too good. Have the couch made into like a bed or something, and a glass of water ready."
"Alright. What happened?" You questioned, going to grab blankets and a few pillows to put on the couch.
"It's.. complicated. I'll explain when we get there. I'm surprised you were awake." He nearly laughs, but he sounded exhausted.
"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep." You lied through your teeth. Tim was definitely too tired to notice your lie. You could hear the sound of the blinker through the phone. "We're about five minutes out."
