Eternity's Ending (our version of events) - Book One

Xander

I recognized his struggle during our introduction. Eyes the color of pallid skies unintentionally showcased his contention in the very fight I had been enduring until this moment. He slaughtered the unnatural feelings born in our meeting; burying their remains in the brevity of our encounter. I saw through the clichéd behavior common for our sex. Nothing he did would wash away the blood staining hands that still, after too long a stretch of time, held mine. I, on the other hand, embraced the feelings because he, without any effort and absolutely no intention, made the feelings and my entire world make sense.

It coursed through me, congesting my veins so completely that blood flow was forced to take a backseat. 769,723,200 heartbeats in no way prepared me for the existence defining 769,723,201st that took place as I made a home for myself in his eyes. My heart limped in my chest, slowed by the blood damming in its walls. My reason for being channeled through my hollowed veins introducing itself to every fiber in my body before reuniting with what allowed me to be within the confines of my heart. Life coalesced with a reason to live to form my purpose. The gentle thud tapped sheepishly against my rib cage, unaccompanied by the typical fanfare associated with my heart's enamored state. My palms remained dry and my knees held steady as each pump became infinitely more determined to make him feel my love.

My first two attempts to shut up the DJ's dishing dirt about the hottest celebrities fail, so I allow one eye to open in search of my target. My hand slams down on the alarm clock.

"Shit," I murmur, rubbing my palm quickly.

I yank the covers over my head and will myself back to sleep. I have to know if he ever felt what I felt. Not that it should matter. It definitely shouldn't matter. Only, it matters more than anything but I can't understand why.

Hours later, as I'm standing unnoticed in the doorway of Vincent's bedroom wondering which heartbeat this is for me so when I tell the story of us to the generations tattooed with the love we share, I can do so in vivid detail, I know exactly why it mattered so much.

I'm frozen. I stand here wishing for something, anything to cover up the one part of me Vincent was never supposed to see. I hope my naked body will distract him from seeing my exposed soul. He looks up at me without saying a word. In that moment, I am forced to decide which way I will run; to him or from him.

I walk toward what I fear will, at some point, be regret because from where I stand, he doesn't look like regret at all. I breathe him, letting myself be held by him for the very first time. Holy shit, he feels so right. I know I've been holding on for way too long. I let go, in love with him. Even though I just got here it feels like it's getting late; like the hour of my heartbreak is only moments away.

"I love you," Vincent's noticed the change.

Still, he whispers the words like a secret he can't keep. I pretend not to hear, focusing instead on shutting down the "I love you too" going ape shit inside my head. I don't struggle for long, the gentle stroke of his hand caressing my thigh quiets everything.

I hunt for a way to get him in between my legs without letting him get in between my heart and the wall I have built around it. I want him. My heart beats just so I can continue to enjoy his touch. His hands inch slowly up my thighs like we have all the time in the world. I taste my heart beating, pulsating in rhythm with the parts of me throbbing in anticipation. My patience runs dry. I grab his hand, trying to direct it to the right place before I am reduced to begging him for what I want. Vincent resists me, refusing to let me turn this into sex.

I can't stop myself from playing with the idea of my being here with him in the morning and the morning after that and every morning to follow. But when we finish I force myself to look at him with no hint of the tomorrow I've been secretly fantasizing about. It's easy to fill my eyes with desire for him. I've been dreaming about Round Three ever since we started Round Two. It's harder to hide how desperately I want to be with him. I remind myself that it's getting late. It's well past my curfew and half past the heartbreak I am hoping to avoid. I'm not supposed to be here needing him, wanting him, getting sucked into the possibility of him.

"Xander?" he thinks I am sleeping because we've been laying here for over an hour and I have yet to say a single word.

I've been quietly pouting about the fact that I've been screwed into submission. I'll be damned if I open my mouth and reveal to him the power he now has over me. I consider faking sleep. It will be good practice for tricking him into believing my feelings haven't changed, that it's still just sex to me. Maybe he'll keep his thoughts to himself if he doesn't think I'm conscious. I'm sure whatever he has to say isn't anything I need to hear; just exactly what I want to hear.

Fuck it, I'm playing possum.

Shit, he'll probably talk anyway and I'll still hear it.

I head him off.

"I should probably take off," I say lifting my head from his chest and putting my back between us, "people to do, things to see and all that."

"Xander," his voice is soft like he's building up the nerve to tell me the most important thing.

"Remember what I said about ruining it?" I ask without turning to look at him. "Please don't ruin this, Vincent."

I make my exit before I can be convinced to stay.