Post by Ralleigh Évelyne Kyrou on Apr 6, 2009 18:58:24 GMT -8
christmas ’08.
gotta feel you in my bones again;
i’m all over you, i’m not over you.
i’m all over you, i’m not over you.
dear self,
you suck.
well.
shit.
i don’t even know where to begin. i’m so angry with my mom, with daniel… with myself, i guess, if i really have to point out the person who should be blamed. this whole mess started four days ago, when i flew in for the holidays. i was really looking forward to being home, you know? i haven’t been back since… my birthday, i guess. ha. birthday. another year older, and yet i’ll never age again. how long until my parents catch on? how long until i have to cut myself off from them? i’m twenty-two now, i look about nineteen… i can only keep this charade up for so long, and that really sucks.
but i digress.
so i flew in to logan, it was freezing and the air was heavy with the promise of snow, which was exciting. i miss the snow. i headed for baggage claim, expecting mum or dad or both of them to be there to get me, and who do i see, already standing there with my suitcase in hand, might i add… yeah, who did mom decide to send? daniel. daniel. did my loving mother have some kind of head trauma? why the hell did she think it a good idea to send my ex boyfriend to pick me up from the airport? granted our families are close, his sister is one of my best friends, daniel and i dated for seven years
he felt like home, if i’m going to be honest here.
but anyway. i told him he didn’t need to get my bag for me, but he didn’t listen. he never has. he just grinned his stupid wolfish grin at me and said “welcome home, ral.” i don’t remember what i said to him, i was probably rude but i was just in such a state of aggravated shock that he’s lucky i wasn’t meaner. we made small talk as we walked down the terminal and headed for the exit, as we escaped into the chilly afternoon and he led me to his car.
i think i would have been okay, or at least better, if my mother had forewarned me about her plans. that moment of shock at seeing him when i certainly least expected it did a number on my day.
so we drove home. he did most of the talking, and he was being more patient with me than he usually would be, which was odd and made me even more irritated with him, with everything. he’s an ass sometimes. and i know i’m not much better on occasion. maybe my mom’s right; maybe we are perfect for each other. ha. she’s biased, though. she just loves daniel; sometimes i think she likes him better than she likes me.
but anyway. he asked how new orleans and work was going, i asked him about school and his parents. just chit chatting really, as he started to drive. he told me that he missed me, i told him to stop. we got into an argument, and needless to say, by the time we got to my parents house we were both sufficiently fuming at one another. just how i wanted to start my holidays and trip home, right? we pretended to be fine once we stepped inside my house (god, how i’d missed it), but i think my dad could tell something was up. he didn’t pry, though. naturally, mom felt the need to invite daniel over for dinner. i thought he would politely decline and go home, but… he didn’t. of course. he stayed.
inwardly i groaned, but i decided to make the best of it, and went back out for my suitcase which was still in daniel’s trunk. he followed me out and offered to carry it inside and up to my room for me. i said i would manage fine without his help. i don’t think he liked that answer. he mumbled under his breath (about me, i’m sure) as we walked back inside, and he held the door for me, which is nicer than i would have been were the situation reversed. i don’t know why he still wants to be around me considering how i’ve been treating him for the majority of the time since… since that night.
he’s an ass, and as soon as we were in earshot of my parents he loudly offered to carry my bag for me. i glared at him and gave him the same answer, but my mother heard (of course. he is very sneaky, you see), and started making a fuss about what a sweetheart daniel is, and how i should stop being so stubborn. i sighed and handed my suitcase over to him; his eyes were very bright with silent, held in laughter, and he grinned that mischevious smile of his at me. he had won… for now.
“you are a cheater,” i told him as we clattered up the hardwood stairs to the second floor, where my parents had their bedroom, master bathroom, and the guest room. my room had always been on the third floor, my own floor to myself. so we continued upwards. daniel was chuckling softly at me now, and he said he was sorry, but he certainly didn’t sound sorry. we got to my old room and he pushed the door open gently. looked like mom had been doing a little cleaning – there was no light film of dust like i had been expecting, and the carpet over the hardwood floor looked newly vacuumed. i stepped in after him and flicked on the light switch.
“brings back memories, yeah?” he asked softly, frowning. “don’t go there,” i warned. i dragged my suitcase over to my dresser, and i heard him follow. i turned around very quickly and asked him what he wanted from me. or rather, what i actually said was, “what the hell do you want from me, daniel?” and i was not very nice about it, but he didn’t flinch. again he cheated and took advantage of my anger and before i could figure out what was happening he crushed my body against his (my head went crap crap crap as i instinctively leaned into him. god damnit) and he gently, very gently, kissed me. i didn’t even think about kissing him back – why would you have to think about something as natural, as instinctive as breathing? it was a seamless motion, that kiss, without me meaning or wanting it.
okay, that is slightly a lie. i… i really don’t know how to deal with him, to be honest. i’m still mad at him for the whole biting me thing, for making me what i am now. and he irritates the fuck out of me, but we were together for so long he knows me better than i know myself. and he loves me, unconditionally, still. so what does that say about me? he paints me as the stubborn fool, while he is the ever-patient, faithful lover. my hate and love for him is all jumbled up into this confusing set of emotions. and the chemistry is still there, obviously. not that i ever doubted its existence.
i pulled away and growled at him. “what the fuck?” is what i think i said. “you kissed me back,” he pointed out unhelpfully. “i hate you!” i yelled. which isn’t really true, i guess, when i think about it. “no, you don’t,” he replied calmly. he stepped closer to me again, and i backed up… into my dresser. nice. “why are you afraid of me? of us? you know how fucking torn up i was about what i did to you—“ he started. i cut him off. “no. no. i don’t want to go there now,” i said quickly. “you never want to go there, ral. you never want to talk about it. you never want to talk about anything anymore,” he continued, his voice rising with his anger. “i think i prefer you kissing me to this,” i muttered under my breath, looking away. and he heard me. of course. so he took my face in his hands and kissed me again, but definitely not gentle this time. i could feel his anger in the roughness of his lips against mine, but there was passion, too. and tenderness, because the fool loves me. god knows why. and i gave up and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. i had missed him, to be truthful. and i am an idiot for screwing things up like i have.
i kissed him like a woman kisses a man she doesn’t know if she’s going to see again – with all the fear, confusion, and love. i gave in to the rapid current of emotions always raging just beneath the aggravated front i always feel the need to put up for him. he’s right. i am afraid of him. but not in the way he thinks. it’s been so long that letting myself love him would be too much to handle, an overload of his feelings for me. and i still don’t know how to act around him, knowing that we are the same as we have always been and yet infiintely different. i have trained myself to block out the probing of his thoughts, so i don’t have to hear what i already know is in his mind, in his heart. always for him. i shouldn’t have crossed out that phrase above. the most honest thing i can say is that ever since that night i have been running from him, and i never stopped… until he kissed me there against my dresser and i kissed him back and poured everything i had and felt into that kiss because i was tired of running and fighting and arguing and, in that moment, i just wanted to be with him.
i broke the kiss again this time, but gently, and i told him my parents would wonder where we were. he laughed and said “what, are we still in high school?” i gave him a look and he let it go, following me silently as we went back downstairs. my mother glanced curiously at me; “he was helping me unpack,” i said. the first thing that popped into my mind as a response. we ate dinner together, the four of us – like old times. like a real family. daniel kept playing footsie with me so i kicked him hard in the shin, like one of the first times we met as kids, when he teased me so i kicked him. some things never change.
