Drabble #22

Warm hands, an affectionate -though slightly mocking- voice, a sly look tinted with amusement... how much of it was a lie? Were the eyes that could convey so much to him really saying anything at all? Were those looks just a figment of his imagination, or was he simply making himself out to be a fool by believing everything he saw, believing every touch he felt that sent shivers of something down his spine. Shivers of what? He didn't know anymore, and every time he cried out he was losing a piece of himself, falling deeper into the trap...

He allowed himself to be used, knowing that at any moment the false sense of security he had attained would be ripped away from him, plunging him back into the darkness that was waiting to swallow him and resonating with the pathetic cries of the damned... Its malicious and slaughtering teachings prepared to seep into him and kill everything inside of him he had tried to nurture and protect, murdering the only part of himself he was sure could be loved...

He feared the man he would become, and worse yet the look of disdain in those blue eyes... The eyes he adored attached to the man he loved and would give anything for to see happy, to see smile in that almost unguarded way that only he was allowed to see... It would kill him to be rejected, to see the loathing in the set of his jaw, that disapproval he wished he knew nothing about in the line of his body as he turned away from him, that aura of disgust at his weakness... so he allowed himself to cry out, letting himself waste away to a shell of his former self...

...to kill the part that would lament as he felt his heart breaking...