A cheesy little love story written a year or so ago. Didn't edit, so don't mind the misuse of semi-colons and such.
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Dim lights masked over the room, setting an eerily calm atmosphere. Above the riveting echo of raindrops hitting the rooftop and Michael’s radio blaring quietly, Cecil could hear his heart thumping uncontrollably. He felt as though it had been set on fire, thrashing wildly against its cage. Michael moved closer, his breath warm against Cecil’s lips. Soon their faces were mere inches apart, separated only by fear.
‘I’m falling…’ Cecil thought. Their lips finally touched, moving timorously at first, before boldness grew and their hands began roaming. It was Cecil’s first kiss, and there was no doubt in his mind; he’d never been more terrified. Michael’s hands were timidly roaming down his back, sending an irrepressible tremble down his spine. His shirt was lifted and fingers tenderly caressed his chest. Michael’s tongue traced around the inside of his mouth, and Cecil could only grip Michael’s shoulders firmly. He felt like he was skydiving without a parachute, spiraling down to an eventual death. In an effort to block everything out, he shut his eyes tightly; his hands sliding securely around Michael’s neck. If he held on long enough, maybe he wouldn’t fall.
Instead, Cecil found himself falling harder when Michael’s lips moved to the crook of his neck; kissing the pale area delicately. He let out a soft gasp and quietly whispered Michael’s name. It was hard to imagine that, mere months ago, love was merely a fantasy, and Michael existed in a separate world, finding delight in sports and eating, while Cecil spent time sketching florid dreams onto paper. Their worlds had collided when they were paired together for a science project. Over time, the tentative conversations between them grew into moments of unforeseen laughter, teasing glances, and hesitant hugs. And over time, accidental hand brushes became more frequent, always leading to stuttering and massive blushing. Their dates were brushed aside as simply ‘hanging out’ by Michael, despite always ending with disappointment and prolonged hugs goodbye.
Earlier that night, the two had been seated a fair distance away from each other; Cecil sketching a portrait of Michael while Michael sat still, reminiscent of a statue. Michael’s auburn eyes were transfixed on Cecil, and Cecil repeatedly had to remind himself to breath. Things had been unusually quiet until Cecil finally placed his sketchbook down, smiling softly. When he finally showed Michael the completed picture, he was pulled into a strong embrace, Michael’s arms wrapping around his waist. Cecil had had trouble breathing again, and struggled to find appropriate words.
“Michael…” he had whispered. Michael only squeezed him tighter in response, increasing Cecil’s fear of falling. He had whispered Michael’s name three more times, until Michael pulled slightly away. Their eyes met briefly, and they had slowly begun edging closer.
Now, Cecil was on the ground with Michael fully on top of him; their lips vigorously moving together, tongues overlapping and colliding like gentle waves of water. Michael’s hands were up Cecil’s shirt, massaging and pulling at the skin. Cecil was terrified--not to mention unsure--of how far the two would go tonight; how far he would let it go.
The moment Michael began unbuttoning Cecil’s jeans; an animated ring tone perturbed the quiet air. They paused, breathing heavily, until Cecil quietly spoke. “You should probably get that…”
“Yeah,” Michael muttered. He lifted himself off of Cecil and reached for his cell phone. Upon seeing the number, he hastily dropped his phone. “Shit…” he muttered.
A knowing chill ran down Cecil’s body and he sat up, pulling his shirt down. “It’s Cassie, isn’t it?” he asked after a moment.
Michael averted his eyes, focusing on the numerous Lacrosse trophies on his wall. They sat in silence; the kind of silence that drove Cecil insane. Realizing that there was nothing Michael could say that would fix this, Cecil stood up. “I need to go,” he whispered. He grabbed his discarded jacket off Michael’s desk chair, and dashed out the door and down the stairs; Michael right behind him.
“Shit, Cecil; wait up!” he called. Cecil ignored him, rushing out the front door and into the rain. He’d just bounded down the front steps when Michael caught his arm, turning him around. “What the hell, Cecil! I can’t even explain myself?” Michael angrily demanded.
“There’s nothing to fucking explain!” Cecil yelled.
“Cecil, come on—”
“—Come on, what? You fucking kissed me first, you creep!
“I know that, and—”
“And what, you’re sorry? You didn’t mean to?”
“Cecil, you’re not fucking letting me talk—”
“—because I know what you wanna say! And I…” he paused, his anger dying slightly. “…I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t.”
“Cecil…”
“How far would you have gone, Michael? How far?”
Michael said nothing, licking his wet lips. And that was more than enough of an answer for Cecil. He narrowed his eyes and fought to wrench out of Michael’s grip, but Michael only held him tighter. For a moment, they stood struggling against each other; Cecil struggling to twist out of Michael’s grasp; Michael struggling to keep his unyielding hold on Cecil. Eventually, Cecil weakly hit Michael’s chest in defeat and collapsed against him. “Fuck you…” he whispered, realizing he had never hated himself more. He felt heartbroken, anxious, and terrified, all at once. His clothes were soaked to the core, rain dripping down his face, mixing with his tears. And despite everything, he felt himself falling even more.
“Fuck you,” he whispered again, shivering as rain matted his hair against his forehead.
“I’m sorry, Cecil.” Michael slightly loosened his grip on Cecil’s waist.
“No,” Cecil said. “Fuck you, because I would have let you.” He glanced up, meeting Michael’s watery gaze. Michael’s mouth parted slightly, and he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Rain dripped off their chins; falling to collapse against the ground.
“I was scared,” Cecil admitted. “…But I would have let you.”
“I know,” Michael murmured. “And I’m sorry, because…I would have.”
They stood shivering, staring fixedly at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Michael quietly repeated.
“…I won’t be Cassie’s replacement,” Cecil stated.
“You’re not, Cecil. I promise”
“So what am I then? What are we?”
“…I don’t know, Cecil. Okay? I don’t know!” Michael squeezed Cecil tighter, breathing deeply. “I’m fucking confused, all right?”
Cecil’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he tried again to wrench away. “Let me go,” he muttered angrily.
“What do you want me to say?” Michael yelled.
“I don’t know!” Cecil said his voice breaking. “Just…let me go!”
“I can’t! And that’s the problem…” Cecil immediately stopped moving, staring up at Michael. Michael pulled him closer until their lips crashed, harshly at first, before softening and streaming along like the smoothest cloud. When they finally pulled apart, Michael let out an angry sigh.
“I know I should…but I can’t Cecil. I can’t.”
Cecil clenched his jaw. If he was smart, he would shove Michael away. If he was smart, he would turn and start walking until he was as far away from Michael as possible. If he was smart, he would stay away from this boy who could only give him eventual heartbreak. But Cecil was long past being smart, because…he had fallen. And because he had fallen, he could ignore the rain that matted their hair down and stung their skin. Because he had fallen, he could ignore the overcast sky, covered in dismal shades of black and purple. And he could ignore the fact that he was in the arms of a boy who had a girlfriend.
With a deep breath, Cecil raised his fingers to Michael’s face; lightly tracing over his cheeks. “…I don’t want you to,” he murmured. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck and pulled him down into a gentle kiss. As Michael deepened the kiss; his hands tenderly clutching Cecil’s hips, Cecil couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t really falling.
He was flying.
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