cycles • a short story

Hands low on my waist as you pull me in your embrace for the millionth time it seems, why do I continue this cycle? We walk towards my room and take place on the bed. How long will you act like you care? I curl my knees to my chest and your weight is felt by the nerves strewn all over my body, unused to the presence of someone else in the safe haven of my room. When will you leave? Vibrant light dances on the walls and the subtle glow from fairy lights offers a tone of visibility that ever so slightly reveals your sharp features.
"How have you been?"
Isn't that the question. How have I been since I last saw you? Regretful. Upset. Empty. Uninspired.
"Okay, what about you?"
We start to ramble about current events and make small talk. My knees fall into a criss cross position and I move closer as the time we've spent apart dissipates into an atmosphere of comfort. I miss this. I miss us. I miss you. Your scent takes me back to our bodies on top of one another in your passenger seat, crowded, with my head on your chest, as we talked much later into the night than I should have stayed for having to wake up so early the next morning. Why think of the past when he's right in front of you?
"What have you been up to?"
My stomach flips with excitement at your questions. I burst into descriptions of all the things I've been waiting to tell you as you flop your back down onto the mattress from your previous postured position, sending a bounce through my figure and chills down my spine.
"Yes! That's such a vibe..."
I look at you and smile. Giggles bubble their way up from my belly and out of my throat as I agree with your exasperations. The corners of your lips turn upwards when your gaze meets mine, my lips follow. Your smile takes me back to my eyes fluttering open, morning light dawning through my blinds and waking up to feel your body against mine. Will you stay over tonight?
Where we used to enlighten one another and engage each other's minds, your hand now rests on my thigh. That first night we spoke of conspiracy and the universe and much more I doubtfully remember, and when our lips finally met, there's little difference between how yours felt then and how they feel now, like pillows of ecstasy against my own, sparking curiosity in regions below faster than I can pace myself, faster than you can pace yourself. Faster than we ever could have paced a real relationship. Where you used to take your time tracing my curves--gripping me like I'd slip away if you lost pressure at any connected point--you rip off my clothes, eager. Yet the minutes still pass like hours and seconds all the same. I feel the bones of your jaw between my fingertips and the bounce of your lips on my neck; the soft, slickness of your hair as I run my fingers through. Soak it in. Who knows the next time you'll see him?
My thoughts quiet themselves as your hands move up my torso and back down again, pulling me from our sideways, entangled position to my legs on either side of your stomach. I lean down to lock our lips and leave light kisses along your cheeks, jawline, neck. I drag the outer layers off your body till we are both left bare, skin to skin. The heat radiates between us and I break to turn on the fan, missing you even just from across the room. All I need right now is you. All I will ever need is you.
The carpet feels like a spotlight as I make my way over to you, the way you stare. Fire seems to ignite off our skin when you pull me onto you once more, our centers aligning but not quite yet coinciding. Vibrations dance around your touch and continued kisses, your tongue waltzes with mine the way it always does. I bite your lip and you wrap your arms around my back, pulling me closer with the motions of my hips. I feel the trace of your fingers across me as they move into my mouth, underneath the soft part of my tongue and then against my entrance, already soaked from the past--20 minutes? An hour? What time is it? I never want this to end.
My hands intertwine with yours and finally we are closer than ever. I let my head fall onto your shoulder for stability until you push me up straight for you to see, like Cinderella entering the ball or someone you never want to let go. Do you think I'm beautiful?
We keep eye contact and there's a glisten in yours that reminds me of myself, like your irises are mirrors into my own soul as you know what parts of me need repair and set the example to follow. I hold the gaze whilst the waves of our bodies send us both into bliss, you lick your lips as do I and your mouth is suddenly all over mine, eating way into my heart in ways unknown until you go. I wish you wouldn't.
Oh how many times we'd done this before, a cyclical balance of lust and love, just enough that each time, you're too much to resist, I'm too much to resist. But that's the funny thing about comfort I suppose. So easy to stay, so hard to leave. We collapse onto each other in a pile of exhaustion, breathing rapid and unsynchronized, and I can feel the beat of your heart going much faster than my own. Do I make you nervous, too?
We lie there for hours it seems. You came later than usual and I'm unsure why my mind was coherent and awake when you called at nearly two in the morning. Perhaps the universe knew this was the last time we would see each other, perhaps she wanted to allow me one last night, one last taste of ecstasy, one last smile. How much more time do I have with you?
The inhale and exhale of your torso as relaxing a feather down pillow, silence floats in the air around us. So much I want to ask, so much I want to say.
Silence.
"I think I should get going, it's almost 5am,"
I walk you out into the morning light and lean against your car, parked so close behind mine I joke about you not hitting it. You wrap your arms around my waist how you always have when leaving and I feel the moisture from your lips on my forehead, the apples of my cheeks, and then on my own, something I have done unto you a thousand times before. I remember your grin, how wide and proud under the applications of my own affection the first times, and the way you used to pull my hand to your face as we fell asleep back when you would stay, now, as my chin rests on yours, pressing our kiss closer. It's as if you don't want to say goodbye, either.
But you drive off anyway, and left with the feeling of being even slightly loved, missed, comforted, understood; I anxiously await the cycle to repeat itself again.