Wicked [bxb] ✓

Wicked

This is a short story.

Song: wRoNg by Zayn Ft. Kehlani.

What I'm doing is wrong. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong, the word echoes in my head like a broken cassette player.

I've had reminded myself of this little fact a thousand times, on a thousand different nights. I'm lying on my back naked, with one leg propped up and the other straight down on the bed. It's completely dark in the bedroom with exception to the light peeking from under the en suite bathroom door.

The windows are open so they let in a whish of cool air into the bedroom which makes the empty space beside me grow cold even though it's just been a few minutes since it was vacated. I hate the cold. But today I let it reach for the very core of my bones.

Anything to distract me from what I'm really feeling.

"Dorian," the familiar voice calls out to me from the lit bathroom startling me. I panic slowly. The cold isn't enough anymore. I keep quiet but then bathroom door opens and so I hastily shut my eyes. Maybe he'll think I'm sleeping. That way there will be no need to start up a conversation. I'll just wait until he falls asleep then make my way out of this cold bedroom like I've been doing for the past four months.

My propped leg slips down on the sheet and I relax my breathing in an attempt to appear like I've been sleeping for the past few minutes. There's shuffling around which means he's walking around the bedroom probably changing into his pyjamas. I just lie there unmoving.

"Dorian," He's calls out again.

I don't answer. The shuffling sounds like it's coming to my side and I panic. A cold finger brushes the side of my face gentle as a feather and I can't help but shiver.

"Knew you weren't sleeping," He say amused.

I sigh opening my eyes "You're a fucking tool. I'll have you know that I was sleeping and your stupid feet shuffling around woke me up." He should be offended at my words but all he does is smile brightly then lean down to kiss my forehead. Up close I can smell his honey and oats body wash. Several times I've made fun of him it but in reality it makes me weak to my knees with how much the earthy scent ground him. Like him it's a perfect contrast of sturdy toughness and golden softness. I try my best not to melt over his kiss.

"Sorry for that," He mutters an apology stroking my face again. I pull away from his touch, trying to make my feigned disinterest obvious and not obvious at the same time. "Hmm."

"You know what?" he pushes himself into bed next to me excitedly pressing our shoulders together. "Why don't you stay over and let me make it up to you?"

"I'm already here aren't I?" I point out lazily.

He bits his bottom lip only slightly and in a manner that doesn't even annoy me like it would on most people. "I mean stay – the night. I'll make it up to you by making frittatas for breakfast."

I huff gearing myself to repeat something that I've said over and over "That's not part of the rules you know."

"I know," For a moment he seems nervous. Denying him seems cruel but we made these rules for a reason. "But for once maybe we should just forget the rules. It's not like anyone's waiting for at home."

At least not today, I think bitterly. Still, I stand my ground. "No I'm sorry. I can't stay over." There's silence for a while. I guide my eyes to the bedside lamp near me because I don't want to have to gauge the look on his face.

"You're not sorry," He says quietly.

I sighed again "Not I'm not. I'm following the rules we set together don't you remember?"

"I do unfortunately. But it shouldn't matter anymore. Aren't we already breaking the most important rule out there?" He asks not ignorantly. I fist my pillow and mutter into it "That's why I need these rules. So that at least we can break the most important ones with a bit more structure."

He chuckles. It a breathy deep sound. It's the first thing I heard when I met him. "That's quite a paradox isn't it? You need more rules to make you feel better about the first set of rules you broke." My grip on the pillow gets tighter. I don't like this. I don't want to be reminded of the reason I needed the cold to numb. I don't want to remember.

"I should get going," I say sitting up to reach for my discarded clothes on the ground.

"Don't," He pleads. The desperation in his eyes is fresh and unmistakable. He wants to keep him here desperately. I want to keep myself here desperately. Forget all about the outside world with all its rules and demands and fucking responsibilities. To drown myself in these four walls forever.

But I can't.

"No," I say a mix of regret and firmness.

He makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sob and my heart bleeds. "Fine. Don't ever come back if you leave now."

I swallow; my throat feels very dry. "Ok." I button my shirt and grab my wallet from the dresser. He refuses to look at me and I want to pretend that I don't care but I do. I care very much. That's what made the rules and restrictions come up in the first place, the fear that I'd begin to care for something that I don't need. Or am trying my best to need rather.

"Say hi to Dylan for me."

That's a cruel jab in my direction. He's bringing the parts of the outside we clearly shut off into the four walls where they don't belong. To remind me. He's hurting me because I'm hurting him.

"I won't come back," I say loudly before slamming the bedroom door with all the force that the anger starting to thrum in my veins has gifted me. "I won't come back," I repeat again. This time to convince myself because I know that another lonely night when the cold isn't enough and the rules blur up for a moment I'll come back to these four walls.

I'll come back.