Anthology | mairi oneshots

Do you?... I do

Enjoy 💙

____________

New Jersey on my mind, no matter what, always brings back memories of long winters, bitter cold air that bites and never lets go. Standing here today, it seems so long ago that we were bumbling teens, dragging our feet along the icy sidewalk as we bickered back and forth, about everything, about anything, about nothing at all.

I see your eyes follow her down the bare aisle, the woman meant to be with you for the rest of your life, and really, it doesn't hurt. She glances at you with sparkling, clear eyes as you fool around with your corsage, the lighthearted slap to stop you is alien as it comes from her thin hand, not mines. Every single motion, tinted blue from the overcast weather and tainted from her foreign presence, feels as familiar, as selfishly ours, as the season we're currently in.

Winter had always been our thing, Mattia. Short, grey days were to find us close in warm intimacy, your arms locked around my shoulders, your beating heart strong under my head. The tip of my nose perpetually red, from your kisses or those of the wind, no one could ever tell. Your hands always hidden, deep under my sweaters, as you dragged me closer for stolen kisses, victimless crimes as they were, for I didn't want them to end.

Her nose is rubbed red, too, and I can tell it is your doing and not anything else. Your chapped lips rest a feather caress on hers, and she giggles bright, so openly in love it's a must I avert my eyes and miss the sight. Instead of sinking in this reality, I jump back to how it was.

On my jaw, the sinful curve of your lips, the wicked drag of your tongue. Your cologne permeated the stuffy air around us as you sucked, as you licked, as you did as you pleased. The heady scent of leather in your bruised pulse point... the subtle hint of wood in your feverish skin... the tones of clean soap and musk the lower I allowed my mouth to reach, your moans guiding me through every nook and cranny I wished to taste, to feel.

In between muffled murmurs, I chanted your name, wishing in vain that somehow it would keep you closer, it would make you stay. Your answering whispers brushed against the shell of my ear, a godless prayer begging me to not let go. Only when mouthed in the dead of our winters could my name sound so sweet, dripping sugar off your tongue, yet so hollow, much like your chest when it was time for you to go home.

We never said things as they were, you and I, we liked to dance around overwhelming facts. Accepting the inevitability of our different paths, our silent gospel was to make each passing second count. God knows we did.

On our most fragile hours, we tended to overspill and yet say nothing much. Hidden by teasing jokes and immature laughs, we revered love and we openly craved stable affection, as if it wasn't a hair length out of reach. We were dreamy children, ones with the most outrageous of romantic fantasies.

In those crisp, lilac days, we didn't know love...

The strong taste of spiked cocoa in our fused mouths, the mingling of our colognes as our skin slid close, the resounding groans that bounced off our childhood walls, the glazed eyes that followed my every move with an adoring spark, the strength of your hands in my hip bones as they drew me in...

In those crisp, lilac days, we didn't know love... Or, so I thought.

Time goes on, unforgivable as it has always been. The rehearsal continues, even if my mind lives less than ten years down memory lane. With women next to our arms, wearing gleaming rings that no longer match, I am in no place to decide if I loved you, for it is too late for that.