Under My Skin

Moving Too Fast

Connor was one of those people. He was eager to be around me well before he knew any of this. He's the only one I have that's here purely from wanting to be my friend. He liked me, and he liked me for me.

I like him for him. I like him a lot. And maybe it's not necessarily a romantic interest, maybe it's simply my terribly mundane desire to be loved, making me think it is. It almost hurts not to love that boy.

Or maybe it's just the sheer fact that I haven't anyone in my life there for me in four years. But he's safer than anyone else. I'm not disgusted when he touches me. That may sound like an incredibly 'bare minimum' basis for attraction, but you have to remember that I can't let anybody else do the things he does. Even Adelaide hasn't touched me since that night in the hospital. I don't even let her touch the back of my hand. But when I see him, I want him to touch me. When he's gone, I miss the feeling of his hands. I trust him. I'm just not so sure he feels the same way for me. I doubt he does. Why would he? He's everything I'm not. He's so outgoing, he's strong and smart. He's got a smile that could just absolutely kill you. It makes you feel like you're living in a movie. And his hair, good lord, that hair. He's handsome. He's not afraid to be touched, he's not afraid to leave his house. He's got a whole world of men out there that would be tripping over their own feet, trying to just say hello to him. He wouldn't settle for someone like me.

Connor could have so much. He could have anyone he wants. He doesn't want me. There's no reason he should.

But I can't help myself in wanting him. He makes me weak in my stupid knees.

I thought if I were ever to find anybody who could make me feel like this, it would be a woman. I didn't expect to feel this way for anyone, and I certainly didn't expect to feel this way for him. But I do. It's not like I'm in love or anything, he's only my friend. But I feel for him greatly. I feel. For such a long time, I couldn't feel anything at all. For so long, all I knew was hurt. Numbed, unending hurt. You wouldn't believe how wonderful it is to feel again. And I couldn't run the risk of losing that. He makes me feel.

And he makes me feel good. Every time he smiles, my heart fills. Stupid, I know. But I can at least entertain these thoughts in my head. He'll never want me. Nor should he... inside my head is a good place to be. Where I won't get hurt, where Connor McKinley adores me half as much as I do, him.

I haven't even begun to think about what my parents would say about this. They were good people, wonderful people, but so, so Christian. What would they say about having me think things like this in their house?
I'm not sure they'd be very happy.
Could I even bring myself to do something like that?  They were such strict followers of the church, I can't imagine them being okay with me thinking those sort of things. Especially in their own house.

A part of me worries that this is a disrespect to them. To indulge such things in their house, while they're not even alive to tell me no.

"...Connor, I think you need to leave." I closed my eyes

"..Huh?"

"I think you need to leave" I repeated, looking back up

He looked hurt, almost.

"...Kevin, did I do something?"

"No, of course not-"

"Because if I did, I'd like to make it up.. whatever it was, I didn't mean to upset you" He carefully took ahold of my hand, finally pushing me over the edge.

My bottom lip trembled as I attempted to keep back the quickly approaching tears, but it was no use.

His hand still sideways under my own, only clasping just slightly, his thumb slid between my index and middle finger, closing in gently between the base knuckles.

I just started to cry.

"Oh.. Oh no, Kevin, what's the matter? What did I do?"

"You... You didn't do anything..." I hid my face behind my sleeve

"Why are you crying, then? Please, tell me what I can do, I just want to make you happy.."

"I... I think I just need to be alone for a little while"

"Okay... I can do that... promise me you'll take care of yourself, though, alright?"

"I'm perfectly capable-"

"No, I know you can take care of yourself... I'm asking you to promise you will."

"..I promise."

"Good... that's all I need to hear." He gave my hand two quick squeezes, before getting up from my bed "You'll call me later? When you're feeling better? I'll worry, otherwise..."

"I'll... I'll call." I sniffled again

"Thank you... I hope you feel better." He looked around the room a few times, before exiting.

God, he's sweet. Why does he have to be so sweet? My life would be a heck of lot easier if he weren't. He's sweet.

Quite a few times, The voice in the back of my head told me to stop him before he was gone. But I couldn't bring myself to face him again right now.

Can they see me? Do they know? Are they ashamed? I'd be ashamed. Not just for this, for everything. If I were my parents, I'd be terribly disappointed in the way their son turned out. I am disappointed in the way I turned out. I'm a mess. A mess who washes his hands until they're raw, keeps himself awake for a week at a time because he's afraid of his nightmares, and in action, prefers dying of carbon monoxide poisoning in my own home, rather than just stepping onto the porch.
Frankly, I'm an embarrassment to them. To their memory.

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The nightmares are getting worse and worse. More.. varied. I've never had dreams like that, I've never had dreams about anyone.
Dreams of haunting lust, dreams of slender fingers up my spine, chills covering the pale skin before me, tattooed by freckles. Rusty hair on my neck, his velvety voice in my ear. What he might look like.
Telling me I'm beautiful. Telling me I'm his personal Adonis, before plunging that dagger deep into my chest. His golden lashes fluttering just beside my own, saliva running down his somewhat chapped lips and falling onto my core.

He wasn't quite himself, more of a model image. A Grecian retouching of himself. He looked almost exactly the same. Perhaps just a bit more defined. Not that I would even know. Maybe it was the demeanor, the confidence, the dominance in his personality that he seems to lack to a certain degree. Regardless of what it was, I woke up with my face burning.

Shoot.