[1] Midnight Lips | Ghost

𝐂𝐇. 30

GHOST
༻☠︎︎༺

     I must confess I panicked.

It had been years. Many years I felt absolutely nothing in terms of feelings. The only thing I was aware of was my heart beating against my chest, like the annoying melody of a clock with its seconds ticking by. Two steady beats, never once changing the sequence unless I wanted to. I would do anything so I could stop hearing those tud-tud tud-tud tud-tuds that would drive me insane at night.

Yesterday, she told me things. Things that nobody had ever said to me. Her words embraced me like a blanket of gentle flames that left my body humming for more and it was so sweet, so addictive. She had managed to catch me off guard too many times now. I couldn't count them even if I was asked to do so.

And then she saw me—part of me—and my heart wouldn't stop racing and my chest ached strangely because of it and my stomach felt like it was being torn apart and all I wanted was to puke the nothing I had in me and all of this confused the fuck out of me. It had been a while—a fucking while—since I'd felt something. And after that last feeling, I swore to myself that I would never go through something like that again. But then she came out of nowhere and made me feel so many emotions I did not know what to do next.

I wanted to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer, open my chest and crawl her in as if that were possible. I wanted to push her away and find the closest hideout to hide myself from her and never come out again. I wanted to do things I promised to myself I would never do. Fuck, I wanted to show her the real me, take my mask off, grip the back of her neck, and kiss her as if my life depended on it. My mask, Ghost, can go screw itself, be damned.

So—as I was diving deep into her, watching her spine arch under me and her little gasps muffled by the pillow—I realized that those things I was willing to do for her were not something I could afford. Being vulnerable, with the possibility of going through what I went many years ago, I just couldn't.

I knew it did not look good to leave her on my bed like that, exposed, while my cum was starting to come out of her pretty cunt—that was not the point. The point was, I fucking had to. I had to get away from her. So I ran into the bathroom, my heart still racing and my lungs still catching my breath. I needed a minute to put myself together. But a minute turned into five, and then five turned into fifteen until I finally came to my senses, and when I went back into my room looking for her, my bed was empty and cold. She was already gone.

I ran back into the bathroom once again, stood in front of the mirror, and stared into my eyes. Honey-brown eyes, she told me last night. She said they reminded her of an afternoon on her apartment's balcony, where she watched the sunset as she drank tea with honey.

And I remembered... Last night, when I had her writhing under me and whispering those sweet things to me, I imagined how an afternoon would be with her if I ever had the chance to join her. I imagined her on my lap, a blanket around us, her head on my shoulder while our teas sat cold on the coffee table, forgotten because we were so wrapped up in each other.

That would never happen.

Seriously, what's the big deal? I asked myself now, it's just a face hiding under a mask, why can you not give her what she wants and show yourself? Nothing is going to fucking happen.

I gripped the mask off my head to prove my point. The same honey-brown eyes stared back at me, only now they were accompanied by brows with two creases meeting in the middle because of all the frowning... and then... then there were two lips and a nose stuck on pale skin, hair on top, two-days-old scrub, memories, so many memories.