A Collection of Julian Bashir One-Shots

Out of Touch

tw//discussions of sex

Summary: Jadzia never died, and she's your close friend who wants to help you understand your sexuality. But you don't know what you feel.

***

Kissing doesn't feel anything.

That seemed like a universal truth, to me, after failing to feel anything with my last three boyfriends. Everyone had always talked about how wonderful their first kiss was—how amazing it felt to have someone's lips pressed tenderly against yours. And the language is beautiful. Immaculate. But all a lie.

Kissing isn't nice. Kissing is wet. Boring. Claustrophobic. Kissing is having your face ground against someone else's at an uncomfortable angle while they keep your mouth captive. Every kiss I'd ever had was one to endure. And it made me so, so... sad. I was hoping that locking my lips with someone else would feel like fireworks, like love, and yet for some reason, it didn't. After my first kiss I had felt nothing. And every one after that had followed suit.

I'd dreamt about it. What the first one would be like. Hot, and passionate, with a prince that made me feel like something. I'd imagined it would be wonderful. I thought it would feel good, and the thoughts occupied my mind just the way the should for a hormonal teenager or young adult.

It first happened when I was 18. And when I didn't feel anything I felt... empty. No. Worse. Broken. Like some sort of receiver for physical intimacy inside me was broken, and that, like a broken feeding tube, I'd never be able to satiate that desire for physical romance inside of me. I mean, I'd had feelings for him. But when he kissed me, it just felt... wet.

Things went on from there, but no matter how many boyfriends I had, I kept realizing that I was never going to find the one that made me feel something.

I'd wondered if I was asexual, or aromatic, you know, since I didn't feel anything. But it still didn't made sense. Aromantics didn't want relationships. They felt fulfilled without them. But me... I wanted someone to love. And I felt sexual attraction, too. But when it came to kissing, it seemed like I always hit some sort of crater in the road. Like I was on a bridge with a meteor smashed through the center, and everything I wanted was on the other side. Inaccessible.

But whether or not I really was aromantic, asexual, or anything else of that nature, I may as well have been. By the time I reached 25 I'd all but given up on finding the right person, and I was convinced that it had all been a lie. Kissing didn't feel like anything. Neither did cuddling. Neither did anything else. And it probably never would. So what was the point of seeking it out when it was all a big lie?

"... so I mean, your sexuality is a very interior matter," Jadzia said softly to me, and the words brought me out of my bitter reverie. I blinked slowly and turned towards her, nodding slowly to make it seem like I knew what she was talking about. Unfortunately, it was only too easy for her to see right through me.

"[Y/N], you didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Jadzia asked. I sighed sheepishly and shook my head.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Anyways, what I was trying to say was that you could be any of those things. Asexual, demisexual, graysexual, aromantic. I mean, it's hard to know. But what feels... right?" she asked gently. I shook my head.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I wish I could put a label on it. Just to understand it."

"It's not a matter of being confused by heteronormativity, is it?" Jadzia asked. I opened my mouth to say something before I'd processed the question, but then it hit me. I pulled back my head and my eyelids fluttered in a series of confused blinks.