| Forever... He said it was a forever thing hadn’t he? Looked into your green eyes and touched your cheek, pleaded with you to understand what he said was the truth. You were the runner--the expert at taking off under pressure. He was the rock--staying put through all your flights. He didn’t falter when you fell, when you slept with another, smashing his heart to pieces. He didn’t budge when you looked him square in the eye, drunk off your ass, and told him you couldn’t give him forever--that hell, you couldn’t even see past next week let alone ten years. He never turned from you, even when you didn’t show up for a week long vacation he’d planned--just the two of you, he’d said, for some R&R. You bailed. He didn’t. You asked him why one night under the stars on a Florida beach--why he stayed with you. He ran his fingers through the sand and smiled softly. “Because I’m in love with you,” he said simply. It was beyond your comprehension, really, someone loving you more then life. You didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. Love was not something you knew how to do. +++++++++++++++ “I’m going away,” he says after the tour ends. “For a month, maybe more.” You sit on his bed and blink at him. “Away where?” He refuses to look at you as he throw items randomly into his suitcase. “Not telling you. Hell, you’ll be away in Russia anyway,” he counters, dropping to his knees to search for shoes under the bed. “You won’t even know I’m gone.” His words chill you to the bone and you pick up one of his shirts, refolding it nervously before placing it back. Still, you keep silent, refusing to accept the ringing in your ears as anything more then left over concert noise. You know, from the tour. “Oh,” you say, not meaning to leave it at that, but your mind is racing with too much panic to get anything else out. He peeks out over his bed and stares into your eyes. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Kinda what I figured.” You have nothing to say to that, so you leave with a small, “Call me,” before slamming his door and racing off back to your own house. After all, you have packing to do yourself. ++++++++++++++++ His is the one call you never got. Three other phone calls filter through to you the night before you leave. His is the only one you want. It makes you angry when the airplane took off the next day, makes the walls slam back up in your heart. You gasp because when the fuck had the walls come down? And why was your heart doing that weird achy thing anyway? Freddie wants to fuck you in the bathroom after the fourth round of drinks so you punch him. It makes you feel like a shit but you have to hit something, and his face is the closest thing. The blood trickles down his face and he stares at you in disbelief. “You shit!” he growls. The laugh is positively insane spewing from your lips--doesn’t sound like you at all. Instead of helping him with his injury, you yank out your laptop and begin to type an e-mail. A long, long e-mail explaining how you feel. As night descends over the plane, you are surprised to find your eyes wet and your body emotionally drained. Quickly you hit send and shut yourself down, wiping roughly at the tears that try to fall. No fucking way are you crying over this. +++++++++++++++++++++ Lori likes you instantly. She touches your shoulder and brings you coffee--talks to you about space and space only. Funny how you let her right in, listening to her, absorbing everything she knows. You barely have time to think about him during the day, but at night his eyes haunt you--their intensity and light--the way he used to look right into your soul. At night, alone in the narrow bed at the hotel, you lay awake staring at the ceiling. And every night, you call his phone, knowing he wouldn’t answer--just to hear his voice. You hate yourself for doing it constantly and never leaving a message, but its the only way you can sleep anymore. And in that narrow bed, after you hear his voice telling whoever it is to leave a message, you stroke yourself to orgasm remembering the way his mouth felt on yours--the way his body felt against yours. It feels so empty now. ++++++++++++++++ The centrifuge wraps you around at 8G’s and you’re rather proud you keep your lunch down. MSNBC already broke news of your heart and everyone seems to be counting on the fact you won’t get enough money to go. The headaches nearly disable you from getting out of bed--the stress blocks your body and makes you want to spend hours in bed. Three friends call you to find out how you are but they don’t mention him. And you don’t ask. He hasn’t called. You refuse to call. Some forever, you think, unable to see anything past the blinding pain. You don’t tell anyone because you’re tougher then that--or so you think. You survived before his profession of forever and you’ll survive now. That’s just your way. ++++++++++++++ Media is everywhere, literally, and your publicist points and reminds you to smile. She also slips you two Tylenol with pursed lips which means she’s asking you not to drink anymore. Only you haven’t been drinking--not during the week--not when you have tests to do. You swallow the Tylenol anyway--Freddie pushes a water into your hands--the smile and speak into the camera about the day’s plans. You don’t see him sneak around behind the camera crew until the red light blinks off. You double take because how? Why? When? But there he is with his hands stuffed into his pockets, looking at you with unblinking eyes. He rocks back on his heels and smiles a little--your heart tries to explode right there. Freddie rushes by his side and whispers something in his ear and you cringe--but then he smiles and nods and blinks at you with understanding. The publicity team ignores him and ushers you into the next phase of the tentative television show and you can’t see him anymore. But for some reason, you know he’s there--somewhere. After three takes, they finally tell you to rest because you’re flubbing lines all over. You run around to find him. You never run around to find anyone. And you’re heart is still doing that fucking thudding thing beneath your ribs. +++++++++++++++++ He’s sipping a water in the cafeteria of RSA, sitting alone. You can’t breathe as you walk toward him--your knees feel weak and your arms feel like jelly. When you’re closer, you smell him--that familiar scent you didn’t realize you missed until it infiltrated your nostrils again. One hand reaches out to stroke the back of his neck and he shivers under your touch. “Hey,” he says without turning around. “Hey,” you reply, adding your other hand for support. “Missed you,” he whispers, and you can his finger fiddling with the water bottle when you peer over his shoulder. “You said forever,” you whisper back. “So what took you?” He turns halfway and smiles--and suddenly it’s clear. He’s your forever. ++++++++++++++++ His voice calls out in the darkness of the room, panting your name with each thrust. In the shadows you can make out the sweat that beads along his upper lip, and taste it when you bend to lick his mouth. You move inside him easily--like always--only this time your entire body feels something different. His hand moves between your bodies, and you watch as he massages himself to orgasm. He calls out your name and you shudder with the intensity. He chants “I love you” over and over as thin ribbons of come stick to your chest and his stomach--and you blink down at him while his hand slows. It makes your hips rock faster and your eyes clamp shut--it makes your body warm and your brain fuzz. It makes your heart soar and your soul sing. When you come, you want to look at him. You want to tell him how you missed him and how much you need him. You want to whisper that you were scared and selfish and thank him for never giving up. You want to kiss his mouth and find his tongue, suck on it and make him feel what you want to say. As your body explodes--and your mouth drops open--the only words that can find their way out are the words ‘forever’. You grunt and pant and slam into him once more before collapsing on his body. “Forever” you whimper against him again. You don’t know, but you think maybe you feel his tears along his cheek, but you’re afraid if you stop to check, you’ll lose the moment behind the word. So you roll off his body and curl against his side, twine your fingers with his, and drift off into a slumber. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ He’s back in Russia before lift off. Months pass and forever isn’t scary anymore. He’s made the trip a half dozen times to see you but this is the big one. He’s got your three brothers with him and the eyes of an angel. Two nights before launch--it’s the last night you can touch him--he takes you to a park nearby. The swings are rusty and the slide is broken--a picnic table sits nearby but it’s missing a slat of wood. He spreads a blanket and pulls you to him--and you make love under the stars. Breathless and sweaty, he drags you to the edge and back before you beg him to let you come. He stops thrusting inside you and stares down at you--sensing your brink--feeling every inch of you. “Forever,” he says, plunging one more time. You come when he does and it’s the only time that’s ever happened. You figure it’s fate or something but later when you’re in his arms, he rolls away and comes back with a tiny box. Silver lettering is embroidered in the top, spelling ‘forever’ and he yanks the top open in the moonlight. “I want you forever,” he says solemnly, his eyes dancing in the glow of the moon. “Forever Lance.” You blink but don’t shake. He’s given you that time and space and taken some for himself. You’ve known him a lot of years and trust him like no other. He took your walls and took the bricks out of them one by one with his patience. Your hand shakes when he takes it in his and when he slips the silver band over your ring finger, you don’t know what to say. He kisses your mouth and wraps you up in the blanket, and stares at the stars with you. When it’s time to go, he tries to stand but you hold him to you. “Yes,” you smile, facing him. “Forever. Yes.” He pauses, then grins--and hugs you close. It’s a forever thing. [ back ] |