The Cure "Maybe Someday"

The rest of the cab ride is agony. Your silence is louder than the ringing in my ears. I think I'm starting to sober up, because I'm starting to worry about what I've been doing tonight. And what you think of me. And if you'll ever speak to me again.

You are squished up against the cab door like you can't get far enough from me. Your hand is already on the door-pull and I wonder if you'll wrench it open and jump out at the next set of lights, do a 'runner' so to speak, except it wont be the fare you'll be leaving behind. It'll be me.

Obviously I can't be sober yet. I'm getting philosophical. I only do that when I'm smashed.

You don't do a runner. You wait for the cab to pull right up the hotel driveway and you pay the cabbie. You even wait for change. Then you're loping into the lobby on your too-long legs, and I have to double time it to catch up to you. 

You manage to make me feel completely non-existant the entire journey back to our rooms. You hit the lift button without waiting for me to get inside it. Despite the fact that we're the only occupants of the lift, you don't speak to me, or even look at me once. The only confirmation there is that I haven't spontaneously vaporised is the little side step you do around me to get out of the lift.

I know I should leave you alone. I should go to my room and my big empty bed, jerk off, and fall into a healing oblivion. You are sending me a dozen signals a minute that all say 'leave me the fuck alone'. Ok, so I know all this, but I'm still pacing you down the hallway about a meter behind.

I don't want to jerk off tonight. If I come it wont be by my hand, I want it to be inside you.  The thought is making me tremble. My still-intoxicated body has no control to fight the slow hardening of my cock behind my fly. Can you feel my hot gaze on your arse as you walk ahead of me? You must know I'm watching you, the way you're shaking that thing for me, it's making me all hot. 

I want you tonight, Daniel. I can't wait anymore.

My room is the closest to the lift. You have to pass the doorway to get to your room. You walk right past it without a backward glance. I guess you expect me to go inside and leave you alone. I should do that. But I'm still walking behind you.

I catch up to you when you stop to unlock your door. You slip inside and rush to close it on me. Moving with speed I wouldn't think possible given my state I throw an arm out, preventing the door from closing.

"Darren." There is a tone of tired warning in your voice. "This isn't your room."

"I know." I say lightly, pushing my way in after you. I brush against you deliberately, feeling the warm caress of your body as I stroll inside. You stay frozen, holding the door back.

"Go and sleep it off." It's not a suggestion, it's an order. I spin slowly on my heels, raising an eyebrow insolently as I answer,

"I don't want to."

I'm not deaf, Daniel - I hear the exasperated snort, the whispered obscenity. I see your frustration. But I don't care. I walk right up to you so our noses are almost touching, so I can feel your breath, shallow, panting, on my face. My body is red hot from your closeness, I've got a rock in my pants that could sink a yacht and I want nothing more than to taste you - right now.

You open your mouth to speak, your voice soft but forceful.

"Get out Darren."

And that's when I kiss you.

You fight me almost immediately. I barely get one brush at your soft, relaxed lips before you start to thrash, trying to pull away from my lips. I don't let you. I've got your head in a vice-grip between my hands, and I hold you to the kiss, forcing my lips against yours - hard and ungiving.

Why are you fighting me, Daniel? I know you want this, want me. I can tell - you're trying to pull your mouth from mine, but the way the rest of your body is moving against me, straining for contact, I know you want to feel more. We fight each other in a strange tangle of limbs, me pushing, you pulling away, until a sharp stab of pain in my lower lip startles me into letting go of you just briefly, and you snatch the opportunity to shove me away.  I stumble backwards, off balance, lips pulsing with heat and pain.

I taste blood on my mouth. I reach up to touch my lip. I'm bleeding. 

You bit me. You fucking bit me.

I stare at the shiny red liquid on my fingertips, disbelieving. I can't believe you just bit me. You've never raised a hand to me, would never dream of hurting me - ever. And with that thought it all rockets home. No, it's not your reaction that has me shocked. It's what I've just done.

I can't believe I just forced myself on you, so badly that you had to retaliate like this. I scared you. I must've scared you so bad. Suddenly breathing is a chore. I stare at you, still cowering against the open door and I want to stop existing. If I had a gun right now I'd take care of myself immediately. I can't believe I just did that to you. //Attempted rape.// My vision starts to blur.

What have I done?

"Oh god, Dan I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."  Hot tears are coursing down my cheeks, every muscle in my body is shaking with shame and despair. You don't speak, remaining motionless where you stand, eyes wide and accusing.

"Are you OK?" I reach out to comfort you but you flinch away violently. This makes me cry harder, the sobs so harsh they start to affect my speech. "Please Dan, don't be like this. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I can't force any more words from my trembling lips, I'm crying so hard I can't even stand straight. I want to draw you into my arms and soothe you, but you look so afraid of me, afraid I might try to rape you at any moment. The shame I feel is immobilising. I don't know what to do or say.

Trembling with sobs, I reach a shaking hand out to your face. There are unshed tears bright in your eyes. I want brush them away, but I know it's an impossible wish. I've fucked it all now - beyond repair. My fingers are centimeters from your face when you again flinch away from even the suggestion of contact with me. And that's when my last gasp of hope dies.

You never wanted this. It was all just wishful thinking on my part, and now I've forced myself on you. I'm a monster, a rapist. And I've hurt you more than I ever thought possible. All of the fond dreams I've been nursing of our happy ending have spontaneously combusted... and I know the ache I feel in my heart wont go away anytime soon.

I take stiff steps backwards, until the doorway juts into my back. I need to get out, get away from you before I do something worse. I try to apologise as I stumble out the doorway but all that comes out is another strangled sob. I don't look back as I walk away, I don't honestly think I could take seeing the look on your face again. It'd kill me.

Thank god I don't see anyone in the hallway. Thank god I manage to get the door open.  The darkness of my room is a haven and I fall into it, collapse onto the bed and sob, crying so hard and so long I leave a wet stain on the pillow. When I'm done crying I start wailing. When I'm done wailing I start throwing things. The complementary fruitbasket and its fillings scatter across the floor. The vase from the nightstand shatters satisfyingly against the bedroom wall. The living room chair puts a substantial crack in the bedroom window.

I see the traditional hotel bible, a hard cover, sitting innocently on the bedside table. I snatch it up and look for something fragile to throw it at. Spinning around madly, I catch sight of myself in the large mirror on the vanity. My face is pale and blotchy, my eyes red from crying, and my grief-stricken expression is ugly. I'm ugly. I disgust myself. I'm a fucking disgrace. I have no words for how much I hate myself at this precise moment. I raise the heavy book and hurl it at myself.

My reflection shatters as my face crumbles into tears.

And it still goes on...

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