Against

Against

A Story by artistkth
"

Perhaps I was wrong in taking advantage of you. But then again, you enjoyed it… so… perhaps you were just as sick as I…

"

   It was wrong. It was going against everything I was taught. Everything! Perhaps I was wrong in taking advantage of you. But then again, you enjoyed it… so… perhaps you were just as sick as I. . .

 

   There was a light shower that early morning. I was expecting a full downpour by mid afternoon as I watched the pitter patter of the rain hit the window. That was when the door was knocked and that was when he came.

   

   You were the one I never wanted to see again; you were the one that reminded me of my greatest sin.

   

    He had grown since I last saw him, almost as tall as me. His eyes, once so large and wary, were hardened and confident. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but they seemed darker too. His once pitifully slender frame was now well muscled and broadly shouldered. His face had hardened slightly and gained more color than when I last saw him, yet he was still painfully recognizable. He was a handsome youth, I couldn’t deny that, but he used to be beautiful…

     “Mr. Ork”, he addressed me, voice even.

     “Boy”, I replied quietly.

     Then he walked up to me and placed his hand on my bearded chin. His expression was blank and so was mine. I traced my fingers over his lovely face, pausing at the lips. He didn’t ask why I stopped; he understood. This was indefinitely wrong.

 

     No, this is worse than wrong. This is a SIN…

 

     “Why are you here?” I asked, poorly hiding my agitation.

     “You don’t want me”, he said, voice suddenly cold.

     “I never did.”

     “That’s not what you said all those years ago.”

     “Whatever I said that night held no sense; it was the nonsense a heartbroken man blabbered out.”

       He glared at me with such intense hatred I almost stepped back. He had no reason to want me; I was neither beautiful nor handsome. My nose was sharp and my eyes were dull and unlike him, I had a beard and a moustache. Also unlike him, my face was beginning to show signs of a man past his prime.

      “No, you meant every word”, he said.

      “I did not. My wife had just died and you were the only one there. Of course I’d want your comfort.”

      “Comfort? So that’s what you call it.”

      His tone was harsh. I wanted to end our conversation there; it had been so long since her death and I could still feel the stale pain her absence left in my heart. On her deathbed, I had told her I could never love another woman and I hoped that even away from the land of the living, she would believe me. To prove my words, I never married again.

      The young man’s removal of his hand from my chin brought me back from the trance. He wasn’t happy with me and everything that I said had only fueled his anger.

      “What do you want me to say? What will content you?” I asked.

      “Seven years ago, you said something to me. I want you to repeat them,” he stated, clenching his fists.

 

       What was wrong with you? Rather, what was wrong with me? In truth, the world itself is wrong…

   

       “I cannot.”

       “Why?”

       “Because I said something a man would never say to another. It’s a taboo. Why don’t you understand?”

       “You’re stubborn, Mr. Ork. I always knew you were.”

         I gave him nothing in reply.

        “Well?”

        “You were fifteen then; innocent, naive. What did you know of the world? Of course you would believe anything I said,” I told him at last.

       “Then tell me this,” he replied, voice shaking with what I assumed to be rage.

       “I will.”

       “What you felt for her, for Mrs. Ork,” he started, growing quieter with every word.

       “Go on.”

       His next words took me by complete surprise.

       “Could you ever feel for me?”

       That was the one question that had silently plagued me for years. I swore to never love another woman… but he was not a woman. Did these feelings really count as breaking my promise? Did I ever truly love my wife in the first place? I knew the answers and at that moment I wanted to shout, I wanted to die.

       “Never.”

       It was his turn to go mute. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn around and leave. I was wrong. A hard fist had connected with my face and before I even figured out what happened, I was lying on the floor, tasting the blood trickling from my mouth, with him standing over me. He leaned down and grabbed the lapels of my jacket, lifting my head up to face him. His expression was twisted into a picture of pure anger.

 

      Do you want me to apologize? Is that what you want? But how can I if you keep insisting on continuing our sin?

 

      “You! I- I hate you!” he snarled.

      “You should!” I growled, the pain from his punch kicking in.

      “Do you know how much I hated you!? I hated you for what you did to me! You changed me, do you know that!? You ruined me!”

      “I know!”

      “Then you lied! Everything was a lie!? Is that the case!?”

       He pulled me up further until our noses were almost touching. He shouted a string of curses at me before he started panting. His face was paling and his eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated myself for actually enjoying his breath on my skin, for actually wishing he would never let go of my jacket. I knew what I felt for him.

     “I never lied. But whatever it was that I gave you, it was not what you think! And it never can be! I’m a perverse man! The sickest you’ll ever meet!” I shouted, unleashing all the anguish I’ve endured over him.

     “Because of you! I couldn’t feel right for years because of you! I cursed you for years! I wished you would die! And-and now-,” he sputtered, tightening his grip.

       My cheek was on fire, along with my cracked lip. He gave a choked cry.

     “And now I want you. All these years, I couldn’t push you out of my mind. I wanted to keep hating you, but it wasn’t really hate, was it!?” he continued.

      “Then what was it!?” I demanded.

      “It was pleasure, such pleasure! No one else ever made me feel that way again! That’s when I realized I wanted you! You of all people, the one that made me… this way!”

      

       Pleasure, such pleasure. You admitted it and so have I. . .

     

     I could only stare at him, unsure if I could really believe his words or if I wanted to believe them. His breath was coming out harshly, the result of his passionate speech. Locks of his hair were falling out of place, ending up in front of his forehead. They seemed so soft. I wanted to touch them, to just feel his locks again, to relive that day by the fireplace so many years ago.

       “Is that all?” I asked quietly.

      The anger from his eyes was gone by then and he was breathing evenly again. I knew he had no more to say.

      He let go of me and my head fell back onto the floor with a silent thud; I barely felt a thing. The young man stood up and walked to the doorway, pausing to glance back at me. Did he expect me to say something? There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words to speak. His eyes darkened before he finally left me, closing the door behind him.

      I lay there on the ground, wondering why I wasn’t at peace. I should be glad he was gone, perhaps forever this time. That was why I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want him to leave; I didn’t want to lie to myself any longer. If the world itself was against me for I what I was about to do, so be it.

      I forced myself to get up and run to my door. I had to get to him before he left for good. My prediction was right; the rain was pouring hard when I stepped out, but I didn’t care. I let the rain drench me as I ran with all my power, ignoring the burn in my lungs. I sped down the cobblestone street, stepping in almost every puddle on the way. The whole trip I wondered why I was even running.

      What could I possibly say when I found him? How could doing this help any of us? What had I become? Was what we did truly as wrong as I thought? Or was the entire world wrong when we were right? I didn’t care that the water was getting in my eyes or that my movements were getting clumsier and clumsier as the precipitation weighed me down.

      I spotted the back of his head. His wet clothes were clinging to him and his hair was matted down as the rain poured over him. I saw him slowly move away. I had to stop him.

         WAIT!” I roared.

 

    I still want you. No matter what I’d rather think, I want you…

 

   He turned around, eyes widening when he saw me. I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath. My beard was covered with water and my wet moustache was increasing the burden on my face. I looked at him, water trickling down my forehead and dripping down my nose. He walked over, pausing when we were less than a foot apart. My breathing was calming down.

     The rain was so heavy, it was hard to keep my eyes open, but I noticed the water rolling down his face and running down his chin. For a moment he looked like a boy again and for a split second, it seemed as if time had moved backwards. His expression was one of melancholy. There was nothing for me to say. He knew it too.

      “You’re pathetic,” he said, the downpour nearly drowning out his voice.

      “I… know,” I replied between breaths.

       He continued to stare at me as if pondering what to say. All I remember for the next and last of our moments together was him bending down and whispering next to my ear. I struggled to hear him.

 

       “I hate you, how I hate you.”

 

      “Me . . . too,” I said numbly.

      Then he turned around and continued walking. I didn’t follow. His last words were of his hatred for me, but his tone was devoid of anger, devoid of spite; it was weary and pained, instead. Whatever he felt for me, whether or not it was love, was not hatred and what I felt for him was not that either.

      I stayed there for what seemed like forever letting the rain drench me, almost hoping it would wash away everything that had happened, from my wife’s death to this day. I tilted my head up and closed my eyes. I let the rain soak my entire being, I let it enter my mouth, and I let my tongue taste the drops. It didn’t matter what he said; nothing mattered anymore, only the fact that he knew I felt the same, that he knew I . . . him. I was content.

 

     You were just as sick as I. I’ve learnt to accept the truth and it no longer bothers me. Because you and I, we are equally wrong in nature.

     

     I no longer care if I’m condemned for this sin. If you are against me and the whole world with you, so be it. . .

     

      

                            The End


© 2010 artistkth



Author's Note

artistkth
This story was written solely as an experiment; it’s the first story I’ve ever done in this “style”. It doesn’t echo my personal beliefs or that of others and in no way reflects my person. (It's also the first story I've had the courage to publish)

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WOW! This is a powerful and beautifully told tale!! I loved the way you showed instead of told, it was magical to read and I am really glad I looked at it! Keep up the good work!!!

Posted 3 Years Ago



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Added on March 20, 2010
Last Updated on March 20, 2010
Tags: romance, fiction, homosexual, men, unbiased, amateur, experiment, against

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