I never meant this to happen. There had been no sign beyond the usual that
it even could.
I mean, there was so difference in today to every other day we spent. No
pining looks, tender gestures and sexual teasing.
You were just you, in all aspects that there are to you.
Laughing at my jokes, like you do so often. Your loud, impolite roar of
laughter, maybe trying to chase away the darkness and thoughtfulness that
are often threatening you.
You sang your selected Karaoke-songs with enthusiasm, clinging to the mic
with dramatic looks, making us giggle. The small Karaoke Box was filled
with your voice and our cheers and chuckles. I really felt relaxed,
enjoying being with all of you, so free for once, no eyes to watch us. I
forgot how we grew apart at times, since we were like a unit for once
again. Fame divides you better than any dispute could.
You can't be too close, always fearing what secret may be blown with every
interview, every facial expression you dare to reveal. I tend to feel
insecure for no apparent reason, fearing to become transparent, so that
every idiot is able to see inside my fragile being. Too much trust and
affinity could be causing that. I don't want to share all that I am.
Where is the mystery in that?
So there is no reason for me to believe that this evening had been special
in any way, because it simply wasn't.
You gave me some notes written down in your elegant, arty way. Why the hell
did you ever take an interest in calligraphy? Inwardly I see you sitting
with a paintbrush in your hand, a few specks of black dotted on your lips
by accident, when you concentrate so much and brush the black ink on your
face by occasion. And your mouth is standing open, of course.
Oh my, I'm growing soft.
A few pages and I scanned them, confirming some confusion on certain parts.
"How does this fit the bass-line?", I asked, when my brother gave his
barely recognizable interpretation of "Winter Again".
You blinked a little confused and your eyes drifted over the other men in
the small room, over the chaos of drinks snacks and karaoke-song-lists on
the small table and the karaoke-equipment. I still expected an answer, when
you frowned and shook your head: "This is definitely not the place for
discussing music."
I nodded with a smile, when a really horrible "aitai karaaaa" pushed us
back into alertness. We didn't talk much apart from that, I think. Or maybe
it just slipped my mind.
I don't remember too well.
But I remember that we closed the evening and you were about to leave when
I asked:
"What about these now?", showing you your own scribbles, you arched a brow
and shook your head smiling: "Tomorrow, okay?"
I tugged the papers away, wondering why I asked anyway, while my face must
have looked a little annoyed or impatient, whatever, making you inquire:
"But you don't want to wait, do you?"
I must have laughed, because you knew my impatience so well and that I hate
unfinished things. All unfinished things except the ones I can't complete.
"Well..." I admitted but you already laughed a little, unlike your loud
laughter in the Karaoke-Box and gave in: "Okay, but I still need my sleep
you know?"
"Weakling", I muttered as a teasing insult which you shrugged away,
seemingly uncaring. So we came to my apartment, and after a little stop at
the kitchen to grab some bottled ocha we landed on my bed, the traditional
place for me to write songs. One of my guitars, an old an beaten one, very
dear to me though, is always placed beside my bunk, so you dived for it,
while I spread the pages.
Strange how you cradled my guitar like an old friend, your fingers finding
the frets so easily, when you showed me, how the music sounded in your
head. I don't know but I suddenly felt like it was an extended part of me
you were fiddling with, hentai thoughts included.
But that was also nothing special, since those thoughts occurred to me
every now and then only in a amusing way, meaning I should get laid again
sometime. And I tend to laugh at those thoughts in my head, finding then a
little odd and funny at the same time. They have never ever led to any
actions, never.
You looked at me questioningly: "Do you get what this song is like or not?"
Am I dumb?
"Sure."
You pouted a little, again shaking your head, telling me that I was
impossible, the guitar leaving your lap to be returned to it's rightful
place when I snatched it from you. Surprised you stared at me, while I gave
my own interpretation of the new song. You leaned yourself against the
headboard closing your eyes, nodding or frowning as a comment of my
attempts on your composition.
Just the music made the conversation and when I stopped I felt at a loss at
what to say. Shy in your presence suddenly.
I felt like I should whack myself on the head. And that is what I did, then
I let the guitar slide on the covers.
You giggled: "Why?"
I shrugged: "Felt like I deserved it..." I said slyly, making you laugh again.
"Whatever for?" You crawled to the end of the bed, taking a sip from the
green bottle, lay down and peered at me head arching, chin pointing to the
ceiling: "And why now? I mean there have been lots of other occasion..."
I stopped your insolence with a unexpected attack, you squeaking:
"Kiri*gasp*!!!"
But you are not physically weak, so you wrestled against me and we fell off
the bed, with a painful "Thud".
Both hissing in pain, still fighting laughter we rolled until the pain
ebbed away.
Crawling up on the bed, we settled against the headboard again, a little
breathless, feeling downward silly and strange.
And still I felt no spark between us.
I've slept cradled against you a few times, you even drooled on my chest
once, but there had never been attraction except the friendly one. I think
you are my friend, with good guitar skills, some peculiar intellect and
strange romantic ideas including cats at times and you always support me.
Yeah, all that sap.
So, why did we end up looking at the covers of my bed and you mumbling:
"It's okay, you can kiss me if you want to", may I ask?
I hadn't even thought of that, you moron! Well I wanted to after you made
the proposition, stupid you.
I didn't know if I wanted to in the first place, but then it seemed vital.
So we kissed and you are not the first guy I've kissed, not even the second.
Lips on lips and nothing more. There was not real spark even then, no
inevitable attraction, just my lips on yours, yours against mine. A rather
lousy kiss.
Still we pursued this very unfortunate idea, settling against each other,
your hands on my back drawing me in for an open-mouthed kiss, which turned
out to be much much better than the first.
So, when considering the whole process, kissing tends to be the same no
matter what gender the person is sticking their tongue in your mouth.
So we kissed beyond friendship or me being me and you being, well, just
you. Just the routine of kissing so well learned it was easily between us.
Strange when I found myself stretched under you, your warm body over me,
moving to locate our crotches in line to get some more friction. And I must
admit I could hardly wait for you to reach your goal so we could finally
get this to an end, a satisfying one, preferably.
Finally we started to move together. grinding, pushing against each other,
your face nuzzled in my neck, me feeling you mouthing words, but not one of
them was hearable, as if they were too precious or too dangerous to be said
out loud.
Hell, we were still fully clothed too. What a scandal for famous
rock-stars, right?
But I didn't care much then because I was totally consumed by your
movements and your lips with and their silent words. Especially your lips.
I felt my own mouth response with equally unsaid things, wondering what I
meant by saying them.
The whole experience lasted not longer than a few aroused, surreal minutes.
Moments with us panting, our bodies moving as if this was the way of the world.
But unfortunately after climax came a radical drop down and warm
uncomfortable wetness between us. Neither of us wanted to move first I
guess, neither of us ready to confront ourselves.
And so we didn't.
I rushed through things to say, words with the right meaning...and fell
asleep. Quite the hero I am.
Awake, feeling kind of sore sleeping fully dressed cradled between the
guitar and you, I sat up and looked around. The fabric at the front of my
pants soiled with now dry, crackling proteins...also known as cum. Highly
unpleasant.
Yet I dare not to move because my gaze takes a rest on you and your
sleeping form. Somehow you look like you always do and maybe this means I
should act like nothing ever happened, shouldn't I?
I swing my legs to the floor, strolling into the bathroom, running water
for a hot bath. After getting rid of the disgusting and somehow a little
embarrassing clothes, I step into the hot water.
A loud noise from the outside, suddenly your blonde head peeking in:
"Rill! Got to go and feed her. See you around!" and you're gone.
No soothing or clarifying words exchanged between us.
Damn.

Attraction.
It was never there for you and me.
But it was there for me strongly and irrevocably towards him, from the
second I laid my eyes on his delicious frame.
But my night with you and our little experimenting has taught me something:
I go for men too. And sex with a male person is imaginable without too much
complications.
And it doesn't even need temptation to happen.
So I decide to lay my moves on him and finally get him to bunk with me, you
understand?
Him, perfect body and liquid grace... soothing voice too.
So you know, I am on my way to his pad right now, seeing him, erasing all
unsaid things, between him and me...and between you and me.
Attraction is directing my steps, like I'm bound to invisible strings
pulling me. No longer neutral like it was with you.
He opens the door, big eyes filled with surprise study me and he is asking
me questions, but my ears are deaf to them. He's a little bewildered, maybe
my face is revealing more than I would like it to, after all, I know what I
want from him. You two can read me better than most other people I must
admit, even though I try hard to remain a mystery.
So he knows I'm up to something.
"You're alone?", I ask, hoping he is.
"...yeah...."
"Let's have sex then".
I know you'd writhe at my bluntness, but hell I don't care. My request
leaves him speechless, so in pull him down and kiss him, harshly, according
o the call of my loudly drumming rush of blood.
His lips are different from yours, in texture, in taste and even in strength.
But the kisses are also hesitating at first. Maybe it's just his surprise
making him unsure, what do you think? Does he want to kiss me at all?
Did you?
You offered, yes, but did you enjoy it?
Well, enough of you, enough. I'm just starting to enjoy the dance of Aiji's
and my tongue, rubbing searching. No space for you left, see?
We do a little undressing. kissing, still I wonder why he doesn't question
this, protests or anything like that.
Does that mean I could have had him the whole time?
We suddenly are on the floor, his body ins next to mine, so warm and so
familiar and reminding me of you.
YOU!
Ke, no way I'm letting memories of that strange orgasm hunting from last
night mingle with this encounter now, you hear me? And I won't have it you
in my mind while I feel up the erect length of your very own friend. He
gasps and writhes and I like it, see? He's all mine, so to say.
I can get under his clothes, undress him for my hungry eyes....that's a
nice deviation...and I can taste him.
Hm, should I describe?
Warm and musky, aroused and fiery. He melts under my tongue, that is so
incredible. What a difference to that coy thing you did to me. So tame and
awkward.
I masturbate him, take in moans, growls scents and pleas, until he
stiffens, his orgasm clearly visible. Well, I wish you could see him, his
pained, urgent expression, then relief.
How have I looked to you?
I guess, you haven't been looking, right? Buried in my neck, hiding yourself.
A rather pathetic excuse for sex, our little ride. It wasn't anything
remarkable, so let's just forget it, okay?
Sex is, what I'm doing with Aiji now, my body enclosed in his.
Unholy, dirty and beautiful, that is what this act feels like, not like
that innocent child's play.
I hear myself cursing something while I enjoy this man under me, his
gorgeous body, his heat, his breath and I feed on the need and heat rising
in me.
I tumble over on him, growl and feel sated once I slip of him.
Then I fall asleep right there, next to him.

Waking does not mean clear-mindedness. I struggle to open my eyes to find
Aiji gone, but then I hear him. Not off to feed his cats, running away like
you coward, so to say.
He seems vagely interested in me, saying soemthing about time to get up and
him meeting someone, then he takes his phone and calls a woman, according
to the little drops of conversation reaching my ear.
I get out of this sorry mess of a bed and wonder if this is how you felt,
when you woke up. And I wonder why I even bother talking to you in my
mind, even though you can't hear me. I could talk to a real life person
here, an attractive long-legged man, currently talking on the phone and
iognoring me.
Yay.
I get myself cleaned and still he talks.
I dress and he...blah blah blah....
Hey, we had sex. I'm attracted to him so he should stop chattering, that
dork. All of you should know that I'm not to be easily discarded.
I mean him and me just had something together and he...?
But anyway...where should we head to from here, may I ask you?
What will become of him and me?
Lovers?
Even the word implies deeper feelings.
Fuck buddies?
...maybe.
I see your shocked expression before my eyes and a faint smile crosses my lips.
Still... I hate that word and that implication. Every chance of becoming
the significant other in one's life die with that definition.
Ugly, cruel and dirty.
I take my coat and leave with a casual: "See you around", exactly your words.

I light a cigarette and drive on and on.
To where from here?
Tell me, please?
Where is the direction I should go for now?

I hear my own bitter, cold snort.
To have a sense of direction you have to now where you stand and where you
want to end up.
Him...
His only direction is towards company, not being alone.
You?
Lack every sense of direction. Pathetic.
Me?
I'm blind so I can't make out the moon, stars or sun to guide me.
I could very well use a compass, don't you think?
Or a guide.

But here I sit in my car, smoke hovering around me, the thousands of people
hurrying to the east, north or anywhere...Can you picture me?
What was it you were saying with those silent words of yours?
Giving me directions?
Did you tell me where I should go and stay?

I would like to ask you now, please answer me.

If only I could find you...but I'm like you since I lost any sense of
direction and I'm like him since I long for someone to be with me.

I end up on my way back to my apartment, where else?
Stepping on my floor, I realize there are two figures in front of my door
and slow down, blinking.
It's you. You!
And him. Him as in Aiji.
He is cupping your face, his thumb caressing the surface of your cheek, his
eyes resting on your face, filled with so much tenderness, it hurts me to
see him like that.
How does it feel to be looked at with such eyes? Tell me, old 'friend'. But
your face is filled with appreciation of his gesture.
Trust glows between you two, like it had been there with you and me.
And me and him.
Somehow I lost that by hiding myself in...myself mostly, sometimes in made
up images.
You're the first to realize I'm standing there, watching you paralyzed. He
follows your eyes and looks at me.
Your small mouth forms a word: "Come!"
And I leave the spot I'm frozen to and take a certain step towards the only
direction I know now.
Him.
And you.