duplicity

9PM

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PETE

Pete felt sick. At least, he thought he felt sick. He was tired, his stomach was in knots, and all he wanted to do was lay in bed. Thankfully, it was Sunday, so he didn't have to go into work. Maprang worked in the evening, so she had gone home after their anniversary date the night before to get some rest before her shift. This meant Pete was alone and didn't have to deal with everything he felt when he looked at her.

Maybe he wasn't sick. Maybe it was guilt that he was feeling.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling above him. Pete could still feel Vegas' lips on his, taste his tongue on his mouth and the slight bitterness of the wine. It was as if it was captured in his senses, because even though he'd brushed his teeth twice since last night's kiss, the taste still lingered heavily on his tongue.

It was the feel of it too. He'd never been kissed like that. Pete doubted that he would ever be kissed like that again and that thought caused a deep ache to wrack his body. He wanted to be kissed like that again.

When Pete was a teenager, he'd acted out. He was a nightmare for his grandparents who didn't understand him. He always felt sorry for that. He knew he had been struggling, but he'd suppressed it so much that it bubbled up like a volcano on the verge of erupting. He'd gotten through it, but his suppression hadn't disappeared. It had only... transformed.

That was what Maprang was to him. Pete knew this well. He'd known it for a while, pretended he hadn't until he almost believed that he wasn't. Everything had been going well with that for a long time.

Until Vegas had awoken something in him.

It clawed at his insides, desperate to get out, and Pete could feel weak spots forming in the monster's cage, areas where with just one more push... Pete was afraid that his deepest, darkest desires he'd kept bottled up would come spilling out.

The kiss had almost done it. It had been just a taste, and now that Pete had tasted what he could have, it was becoming more difficult to be satisfied with what he did have.

He liked Maprang. She was great. She was...

She was not what he wanted.

But he didn't want to end things with her either. He just wanted to live that normal life. His grandparents wanted that normal life for him. Pete didn't even know what it was like, having been raised by an alcoholic father. His grandparents had done what they could, but at night, when Pete had to go home, the person he had to deal with was his father. And, sometimes, he still had nightmares about those nights.

Normal was to be with Maprang as his grandparents wanted. Normal was to one day marry her, have children, live his life well, doing his job, and then dying. That was fine. Pete didn't hate the idea of it and he realized that, to many people, that was the dream.

Yet it ignited no spark in him.

Not like Vegas who Pete felt dizzy and breathless around. Not like Vegas who Pete found himself getting lost in. His shirt was in his box in his closet and Pete could almost smell the scent of sandalwood and mint mixed with the coffee stain. He could smell it as well as he could taste the wine on his tongue.

Maybe it was because Pete was so repressed. Maybe this was just something he needed to get out of his system and then he could move on and file it away under a wild moment in his life like some movie he'd seen somewhere. And then he could focus on Maprang. Then he could focus on building the life that he was supposed to have.