After James // phan

confidential pt. 14

I heard James shut the door and finally let out a long breath that I had been holding for longer than I ever thought I could. James is in my house. James is in my house. James is in my room. James is just behind that door.

The door reopened after a bit, though my hands has just been hovering over the kettle, shaking ever so slightly. James was occupying my mind to the extent that I didn't even know what to do with the plug that was just below my fingertips. I heard him walk toward me.

James is in my shirt. James is wearing my clothes. Oh god, my heart is beating so fast.

"Hey," he sniffed, rubbing his hand beneath his nose. My mouth dropped open. The shirt was just a little too big on him, even though we were nearly the same size. I always bought them big, especially ones I would wear as pyjamas, so they always hang down to my hips. But James was just swimming in it, like he was lost in a navy blue sea. I realised, just then, that my t shirts were all very nerdy.

Dan picked at the hem of my Nyan Pixel Pops t shirt, avoiding eye contact and shaking his curly fringe in front of his eyes. I felt my pulse in my fingertips, which longed to reach out to him, push his hair aside. I longed to press my lips to his trembling ones, press my body against his shaking one, press my hands against the hem of my shirt and push it up, over his head...

I blinked, trying to clear that image from my mind. He was married. He was married, he was married, he was married to a woman. A woman, my neighbor, Darcy, my friend. James was my friend. I wanted to touch him.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and balled them into fists. Stop it, Phil.

"You good?" I asked, my voice sounding just a bit strained. James was silent for a second.

"I'm going to be meeting someone later today." He looked as though he was going to say more but then shut his mouth, blood draining from his tightly-pursed lips.

"O-okay."

"And I need– I mean, can I– can I stay here... until then?" Before I could answer, his eyes glossed over the large roman numeral clock hanging just above the breakfast bar. It was five to 9, and I was officially late for work. I didn't care. I cared about James, James and his problem, James and the person he was meeting, James in my t shirt, James and his wife.

His wife.

"You can go, if you need to," he mumbled, eyes still locked on the steady ticking hands of the analogue clock. "Go to work."

"I'll just call in sick." I felt that urge again, to reach out and touch him. Like my mind still couldn't recognise that he wasn't some apparition, and that he was a figment of my imagination. Surely, no one so perfect and yet so mysterious could actually exist. I felt a flush rise from my collar. I was staring at him but I couldn't look away. He was beautiful.

"You don't have to do that, Phil," he mumbled, eyes trained on the floor.

"I want to." He looked up at me.

And then something really, really bad happened.

I don't know who started the kiss. I assume it was me, but James seemed just as eager, his hand pulling my waist closer to him, other hand on my cheek. His lips were soft and trembling slightly, and they tasted oh-so-good. My mind went blissfully blank as I kissed him, his body pressed against mine, his skin flushed where it touched me, our bodies moulding into a rhythm of lips and hands and then tongues. His back was against my fridge before I could stop myself, and my hips rutted into his, seeking those soft moans that escaped his lips.

Stop.

I pulled away, but stayed close enough to feel his heavy breath on my face. His cheeks were pink and his lips were red, and he had never been more beautiful. His hair stuck out in odd directions, his shoulders rose and fell every time he breathed, and he looked shocked but nowhere near unhappy. He looked as hungry for more as I felt. But so much was wrong with what we were doing.

I felt my body lean in before I could stop it, but I forced myself away. Stop it, Phil! Stop!

"I- I'm so sorry," he said quickly, pulling his hands away from my hips. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." We went silent. I knew we were both thinking of Darcy in that moment. Darcy. Darcy, my friend. Darcy, who was probably patiently waiting for her beloved husband to return home to her. Darcy, James' wife.

I felt so very dirty. I was disgusted with myself, the way my hands shook, the way my heart beat, the tightness of my pants. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, to undress him, to pull him to my room and throw him on my bed. It was so, so wrong. I was supposed to be keeping him safe. But here I was, forcing him into adultery.

Without saying a word, I turned and quickly made my way to my lounge, still not sure what just happened. I kissed him. I kissed James. I kissed James, and James–

James kissed back. Holy crap, James kissed back.

By the time I hit the dead end that all rooms posses, I turned to find that James was gone. I just assumed he went to my room, but something in my brain told me he left. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to keep him safe. But I knew that, if I was anywhere near him, I couldn't stop myself from kissing him again.

What is wrong with me? I thought I possessed at least a small amount of self control, but everytime James was near me, I just wanted to jump his bones. He came to me for help and I just... did that.

I hit my head against the wall. Then again. I was at five when I finally calmed down, and the pain that resonated through my skull seemed to sober me up. I took a deep breath. James.

A quick trip around my home revealed that he had just shut himself into my room, and didn't escape the flat like I thought he did. I felt terrible.

No, actually, I felt amazing. My lips were still shaking, and my whole body was tingling. I forgot how amazing it was to kiss someone. Or maybe James just had this amazing electricity buzzing through him that somehow transfered to me. Either way, I wanted to do it again.

But then I felt terrible again. Terrible that all I wanted was to peel back that layer of James and make Dan mine.