Doorman

Quiet (VER 1)

"You're going to be okay," I smile, my voice just above a whisper.

His breakdowns aren't getting any better, just less frequent. I thought I would be able to help, I really did. I don't know what to do anymore.

He's crying now, his sobs muffled by his hand reaching up to cover them.

The lights are off, and we are illuminated only by the faint light of my computer monitor. I take off my glasses and I do as he told me. I don't look at him.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the reason he has these panic attacks. He told me they just happen, but I've figured out he's notorious for lying.

Ever since that first night we hung out, I've been thinking about how he reacted. It seemed like he seized up in fear when I touched him.

He tells me he's fine with contact, but he's notorious for lying.

"How do you feel?" I ask, wanting a straightforward answer I know I'm not going to get.

"Scared," he replies, same as last time.

"Do you need anything?" I try something new.

His answer surprises me.

"Nothing but you."

My heart beats at what I'm assuming is the same speed as his. That was a study some long forgotten scientists did, right? That your heart beats at the same rhythm as the person you love?

"What do you mean?" I'm shaking now, I just want him to tell me what I want to hear.

I just want him to be sick to his stomach at the thought of kissing me, just like I am.

I just want him to cry from the memory of our lips sharing the same space, just like I do.

I just want him to love me, just like I love him.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asks me so earnestly.

His eyes don't look scared but they don't look unafraid either.

His eyes register the same emotion they had that one night, the emotion I don't quite understand.

But I hold my hand out, I want to touch him again. I want to touch him.

When our fingers touch there's a moment of hesitation. This is slower than last time, better.

"Michael... can I..." he trails off.

I scoot even closer to him, our legs interlocked. I can hear his breathing become labored.

"Just let me try something," I say, almost on autopilot.

I lean in, my face right in front of his. I close my eyes and I kiss him.

His hand leaves mine and finds its way to my hips, pulling me closer. This is much different than last time.

I'm seated on his lap, the closest I've ever been to him.

"Please don't stop kissing me." he pleads, breathless.

I comply, kissing him harder this time, wanting something more out of all of this.

I feel pressure against my bottom lip, and I part, feeling his tongue slide into my mouth.

My mind momentarily flickers to [Y/N], and how he's handling all of this stimulation.

I break the kiss to ask, "Are you okay? Is this too much?"

His eyes are sparkling with happiness and he smiles, "I've never felt so good in my entire life!"

He grabs my face and kisses me again, and places small, quick kisses all over my face and down my neck. I start to laugh from the sensation.

Then I start to feel different. Different from whatever I've felt before.

I kiss him again, more tenderly this time.

When we break I get close to his ear. "Quiet," I whisper, and I love him like never before.