failed attempts to fly

into your obsession

I remember all my firsts, every kiss, every awkward sexual encounter. Not only because of my immaculate memory but because I can count them all with one hand.

My first kiss was during my first year of high school, after lunch. The boy was a foreign exchange student with a funny name who loved sardines. I knew this because when his tongue invaded my mouth, all I could taste was the saltines in his salvia. We were both inexperienced, yet I knew that kissing shouldn't feel that way, slimy and gross.

It should feel warm and tender, like a gentle dance of two tounges swirling together, exchanging mutual feelings of lust and want. A subtle tug of the lower lip to keep the other person wanting more. Hot, breathless, gasping for air, tickling on one's cheek because there's no need to breathe because tasting each other is all that is important. Hands tugging each other's faces as if the closeness of two lips isn't close enough. A small "mph" between kisses as neither one wants to break free from this moment.

Like this moment right now, with Iwaizumi.

I only meant to give him a peck. A subtle kiss is what I thought I had the courage to do. But as soon as our lips collided, like magnets, sending millions of neurons throughout our lips, we couldn't detach.

The palm of his hand on my skin was light, gently pulling my body closer to his. But the way he kissed me, I could feel a sense of urgency and neediness, almost as if he was trying his hardest not to devour me whole.

And I was the one who initiated the kiss, yet he was in control. I was hypnotized by his tongue movements, by the closeness of our bodies, by him. My knees were weak, and I did not have the strength to pull away. Not that I wanted to, on the contrary. I wanted more. A simple kiss, yet I was already addicted to his taste.

If it wasn't for the drunken college students whistling, reminding us that we are out in public...well, I don't know what would have happened.

There was a moment of silence as our lips detached, catching our breath. Almost as if we were both waiting for one of us to apologize for the sudden affection. But I certainly was not sorry. And Iwaizumi's inability to stop glancing at my swollen lips tells me his mind was far from regretful.

Good.

"Is there somewhere you'd like to go?" Iwaizumi question was innocent, but it could be interpreted as something else, especially after that intense makeout session. "Shit, not like that. I-I mean, like the arcade or something..." Even in the low light of the night, I could see his face turn a bright red.

"Yes. There is somewhere." I replied. Because even if he meant it any other way, the answer would still be yes.

Hell yeah, probably.

But my choice was not an arcade, a karaoke bar, or a movie. It was somewhere specific—the place named after a Guns n' Roses song.

"Okay, I'll play for you." The words repeated in my mind as I patiently waited for the day. And today is that day.

*******************************

"Are you sure we can be in here?" I ask, realizing my request may or may not involve trespassing.

"Yes." He laughs as he turns on the record store lights. "It's my uncle's shop...plus, I live upstairs."

My legs almost gave out with his comment.

He lives upstairs?
Upstairs is where he lives.
Where he sleeps.
Gulp.

I follow Iwaizumi through the employees only sign of the music store to a set of doors. I'm guessing one goes up to his loft. Unfortunately, he opened door number two, which led down a flight of stairs to the basement. It doubles as a storage room and a makeshift music studio. Foam board covered the walls to soundproof the sound, and ample instruments and recording equipment.