"...I have this urge to tell about him... Sometimes I miss him so badly I can barely stand it. Last night I passed some older men. A scent of his perfume preoccupied all my senses. One of them was wearing it. I knew he wasn't there. I knew I wouldn't find him if I turned around. Yet I did. Facing nothing but the dark and strangers. An image of my lips accidentally touching his neck fleshed before my eyes. The way he pulled my head toward his, almost hatefully. He told me a wave of heat suddenly overwhelmed him. I never told him something punches me every time he enters that damn door, every time I see him coming down the staircase. How could I? I never will...
Don't want this to sound so pathetic and dramatic. I'm not some head over heels in love teenager. He's not some teenager. Although he sometimes acts like it. I don't know why I'm feeling like he's hiding something. Sometimes I think he's sad. Like he's faking a smile. Maybe he's a lot like me.
I know what's like to fake a smile...
He doesn't know I notice him the moment he enters the room. I'm just pretending I'm not. I'm dying for just a moment with him. Just being next to him, without touching, without even speaking. Just standing there... It's like a hunger. The vampire thirst. I imagine it that way. Maybe it's because of that "neck accident". I want it so bad that it hurts. I want to scream and make everyone disappear, to silence everyone. I want to listen for what he's been saying all the time, although it's irrelevant, I want him to hold my hand the way he sometimes does... Someone stop all the clocks!..."