Never Enough Until You ( Scomiche )

Lies Delivered

I don't know if it's the alcohol swirling through my veins, the buzz from the orgasm making me feel dizzy or just the whole overdrive of emotions of the night, but the panic doesn't set in right away. I reach my apartment in a blur, opening and then closing the door behind my back in a hurry, almost like I'm afraid that someone is behind me, chasing me to punish me for all my mistakes - and boy I've made many.

Of course, nothing is chasing me, if not the feeling of guilt boiling deep down my stomach, and if I wasn't almost numb from shock, I would probably feel sick. There's too much going on in my mind, too many informations, too many things to think about, and I'm exhausted. I walk through the room like a robot, taking off my shoes without thinking about it and then almost tripping on them. My eyes scan the living space without really gathering informations, my sight unfocused.

Go back. Go back right now. You're in time, you're still in time to fix this and not ruin everything. You're still in time to not be a piece of absolute shit.

You can't go back. You can't look at Mitch and not hear those words.

Maybe he didn't mean it like that. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Maybe what he meant is that he loves what you do to him, not you.

Fuck.

I don't move, frozen, trying to discern the fighting thoughts in my mind, and it takes so much brain capacity that it's giving me a massive headache, which is absolutely not what I need right now. What I need is to calm down, to understand what's going on, and to not panic.

Ok, shower. That might help.

The water falling on my head and my back feels soothing to my tense body, but does nothing to really relax me. I take deep breaths, forcing myself to not think. No thinking about the disaster with Jason, no thinking about this night, no thinking about the sex. No thinking about Mitch.

It's not really working. And what's worse, is that trying to not think about what happened is making me think exactly about that. Which means thinking about Mitch, and what we did together. Which means that my body is responding in the most natural way possible and I hate it. I look down at my penis, half-hard already, almost like it wasn't satisfied like half an hour ago.

Fuck you, penis. This is all your fault. If my blood had not run to gather south and give you strength, then I would've been able to think clearly, and maybe I wouldn't been in this situation. Maybe I wouldn't have been lightheaded from an orgasm and I could've thought more clearly. So no, I'm not playing with you tonight.

I turn the water from hot to freezing, the initial cold enough to make me gasp and forget about the annoying pull between my legs - and thankfully, the temperature does the rest. I breathe heavily, trying to relax my tense muscles and regain control of both my body and my mind, which takes a while.

I crawl in bed almost an hour later, when the water surrounding me stops feeling comfortable and starts becoming suffocating, no more safe but something to escape from. I wish I could say that the clean sheets are better, but the truth is that they hold so much memories that it's hard to not think.

I cover myself with the sheets and just like that everything comes back to me. I'm in a bed, alone, and Mitch is in his, alone. Because I ran away. He will wake up tomorrow morning, or maybe in the middle of the night, feeling miserable due to the alcohol in his system, and he will be alone - because I'm a fucking coward.

Maybe he won't remember. Maybe he will wake up without any idea of what happened tonight, of what he said.

No, fuck, that's even worse. I can just imagine it, Mitch waking up in his bed, alone and naked, with one hell of a headache - because that's what always hits him after a night of shenanigans - and he won't know what happened. He'll be disoriented, confused, worried. Maybe scared. He will wonder why the fuck he's feeling like shit and no one is there with him - why I am not with him. And he will ask me why, and I will probably dig a hole in the ground, possibly so deep to reach hell, where my place is awaiting me.