𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 by A.P.Mary

03:00 am

Who is she?

What is she actually?

Her face is round, just like her eyes, button nose that gives her the appearance of the innocent girl she is, or was, maybe I'm the problem. Her gray eyes send me lightning bolts in my body, jolting every time she looks at me. I've seen beautiful girls in my life, my work is definitely giving me insights into women, but she is the only one who I've opened up to.

I wanted to put my fingers on her from the moment she came upstage, but as I turned my eyes to her, I was intimidated. I gave her the guitar, and she clearly didn't want to be there. She was shaking, but her eyes were ready to fight me, and god It was a bad good time for her to be there.

I didn't even blink when I saw Ellen naked, right next to Ivan, who was in her same status. I didn't talk to either of them, I felt hurt, I wanted to punch him, take him and gut him, but I would never do that to the band. Never. I told the others we just broke up, and I could see his embarrassment as he met my eyes. Ellen on the other hand, I felt she got a little too close to me lately. Oversweet, touchier, less moody, she couldn't bring herself to get mad at me for anything. She probably was too mad at herself already.

But when I saw Verena, this girl that seemed so fragile yet is stronger than me, I felt something. I wanted to know her, to get to her like the others, but somehow what had worked on others didn't work with her. Her eyes are cunning. Round, ready to jump, and her eyeliner made me think she was sweet, vulnerable. Spoiler: She's not.

The moment we were locked in the room I knew I could go away at any time, but who would really? We laid on that mattress and spoke about random shit, and when I heard she never did anything before tonight, I was displeased. Displeased no one really had the balls to try and pursue her. She was embarrassed when she told me, and I was fascinated. I wanted her more than before. Not necessarily physically, even though I craved her touch, but I needed more from her. She was and is completely rolled up. I didn't even scratch the first layer, and yet I want to go deeper.

I took her face and kissed her, and never had I been so close to a boner by a peck on the lips. My mind rolled over the words she wrote on that paper, that poem that had me rethinking about everything about her. She wasn't innocent, she just wasn't displayed. Her hips made my hands want to rip her apart, and I could just kiss her, slowly, then less and less delicate.

We are back in the room, and I hear how she was treated before, and I wanted to murder those guys. I've been called violent when I was a kid, I didn't think twice about beating a guy I didn't like at that moment. Then she got naked, and I felt like climaxing on the spot. She is a renaissance painting, her skin isn't soft, her body isn't all pale and unmatched clean. She has many beauty marks, marks from previous body acne, she has godly sent stretch marks, and she isn't necessarily fit. She is what I needed, what I need, and I never felt like I fit better to anyone else.

I'm caressing her face, and she is slowly drifting to sleep, and I brush my thumb on her eyes "Don't fall asleep, you'll have time soon to sleep" she opens her eyes wide and I laugh. "Let's go outside and take some fresh air" we were underground, vents did very little in letting us breathe. She gets up and she takes her shirt off, discovering she has borrowed it without me looking, handing it to me. I see the shape of her breasts from behind, and I almost forgot I had two rounds an hour ago. What will I do without her?

We get dressed and I take her hand, leaving the room and swimming through the crowd. People scream around us, music that cuts through the eardrums, slowly causing people to be deaf. I watch behind me and she's here. Not a mirage, not an illusion, she's here.

We climb the two rounds of stairs, and a big wave of fresh cold London air crashes into us. I can see her waking up from her trance, and we stay and just breathe. We find a bench in front of the entrance of an apartment next to the local, and we sit down. We don't say anything, but we say plenty at the same time. I lay my elbows on my legs, facing her, just observing her tormented face as she rubs her eyes. She washed off her makeup, and she looks even better, even if all she had was mascara and eyeliner.

"What is it?" she asks me, and I smile at her. I love seeing her cheeks turning bright red as soon as I smile, and her eyes struggle to keep eye contact. I shake my head

"Nothing, just thinking" she squints her eyes, and lowers her head to my level, smiling like a little kid.

"What are you thinking about then?" I go and kiss her forehead, my lips melting as they touch her skin. If she really knew what I was thinking about only looking at her she would run.

"I know you have a lot to say" I say "I can see it in you" her smile becomes faint, and so does mine. Her eyes go to the cement, and she starts fidgeting slightly, brushing her fingers on the palms of her hands. Her eyebrows furrow, and I feel a small vein in me flicker. Her lower lip trembles, and I know it would be ten times worse, but my mind pushes me to kiss her, to make her forget any reason she could be crying for.

"I'm going back to the US" she blurts out in tears "Or at least I want to, I can't just go to Italy, not after tonight" I take her in my arms, and she lays her head on my shoulder, feeling my shirt get wetter by the second. I should've locked the door, I'm curious how no one barged in as we were in the middle of it. I think she should've seen what her friend is capable of, but at the same time not in this situation, and I feel guilty for every single part. "I needed this for a long time, a moment that shows me her real face, because I've been seeing this in her for a long time, but I never got to bring myself to drop it off"

"You are just human" she gets up from my shoulder and looks me in the eyes.

"How did you cut them off just like that?" I raise my eyebrows surprised, and she stays waiting for me to answer

"Physically I did, but inside It's hard. I'm not a machine, the sense of guilt is always there, but this doesn't mean I can't do it slowly" I tell her "With the bassist i have to keep touch, he's my colleague in the band, and the fans already love him, and I can go on living next to him" i exhale "but with her, I can't even look at her face without getting mad. At her, at myself even, It's definitely not easy at all". She looks at me, and I look at her, and through her eyes I see her finding comfort in my pain.

I would tell her all that pains me if it means that she gets to be happy.