Pick and Mix

Liar. Lover

His fingers curled around the edge of the bathtub, sinking in the curves of it. With elegant and long legs, he crossed and uncrossed them. He opened his mouth to only shut it again and closed his eyes, leaned back onto the bathtub to only lean foward again. He doesn't know what he's doing in this warm body of water, he doesn't understand the stream of sunlight pouring from the window, the hiss of the wind outside and everything around him. He doesn't understand the man outside of the window, his very own lover, who stands still and smoked a cigarette in the warm sunlight and hissing wind.

He closed his eyes again. Leaned onto the edge of the bathtub. Loosened his fingers. Relaxed his legs and strenched them as far as they can go without hitting the edge. For a moment, he sinks in the silence, the terrible silence that overbears him.

At home, there was never silence. It was loud, noisy and there was never a moment to think twice. The very same silence he begged for seems like a burden on his chest and weighs him down for every wrongdoing he did to get here.

Step one: thinking Leonardo DiCaprio was mode attractive than his costars.

Step two: falling a bit in love with Eric, the pasty white boy who used to exchange comics with him.

Step three: kissing a boy in a closet. He kissed a boy in a janitor's closet when he was thirteen.

Step four: not regretting it. Wanting to kiss again, to have the soft skin of his cheeks in his hands again and to feel the way his chapped lips felt like again.

Step five: falling a bit more in love with the boy in the closet.

Step six: rolling his eyes at the idea of arrange marriage or any girl being attractive.

Step seven: sitting under an orange tree. He should've known better than to watch him biting into that apple, to watch the way light falls against his blond haid and how he runs his fingers across his hair. That was a mistake, it was such a big mistake to commit - how could he possibly fallen so in love with someone within a moment? How did he not see how perfect this person was, how did he not see the heartwrenching smile of his earlier, how did he not see the way his hands perfectly fit with his . . . How was he so blind to see that he was infatuated, crazy and completely in love with him?

Step eight: lying to his parents about a "boys weekend away."

The last one wasn't a lie. It truly was just a road trip with him and his best friend. The words that came next was a lie, about how they'll pick up some of their other friends too. He was lying when he said that he hoped Annie was coming, he was lying when he said he had a crush on her when he was still totally and madly in love with the man outdoor.

For each mistake, he bowed his head down to the same god over and over. He pressed his forehead to the floor, scattered his brown palms to the floor and allowed a single tear to drop to the floor before he collected himself. He'd walk away from that god over and over, and go downstairs to lie to people about future relationships.

He felt dirty - not because he was gay but because of the lies that have spilled out of his mouth. One by one, each one escaped his lips as if they've always been planted there. Lying has become second nature to him, a second skin to his body. He wants to shed that skin, shed those terrible lies that have dirtied his skin.

By the time he was tempted to leave the bathtub, his lover entered the room. Like always, a smile came upon his lips with ease. His features always melted with his lover, they always turned into a soft pink cheeks and upturned lips. It was always glassy eyes, eyes of admiration and love that told the tales of their love.

"Are you done with the bathtub? Venice is next," his lover said, speaking with such a smile that his heart became warm. "I can't wait to see the boats, the culture and the pasta!"

He laughed at his lover. Perhaps, just perhaps, the lying was okay. The lying allowed him to sit in this bathtub, just a metre apart from his lover and laugh. It allowed him to feel softer, make his heart warmer and his eyes a little less dark. And when his lover moved closer with such grace and ease to kiss him, he realized that everything has a price. His love's price was lies, so let it be. He would trade a thousand lives for a kiss like this.

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i wrote this in half a hour last night while listening to binte dil and crying over how weird the video was . . . . it had so much potential!!!! the first hindi gay song of 2018 was such a mess!!! it was so weirdly sensational, the power dynamics between khilji & his servant made me so uncomfy, the peeking tom scene . . . @ slb do better!

anyways how was the chapter? its loosely based off a character i have written up!!! the chapter isnt really edited and i didnt rlly double check it or anything so uh sorry!

ok bye!!!

- maya