Vivisection - 12

  Timidly, I turned my arms so that the palms were facing upwards, completely exposing them to Greg. His eyes widened in horror, and I had to tear mine away. Feeling disgustingly humiliated, I made to push my sleeves back down, but his hands wrapped around my wrists, holding them in place. My eyes closed, skin in ecstasy due to his gentle fingers, still stinging the smallest bit due to the pressure. He removed one hand from my wrist, reaching behind himself. I heard a small beep, and my eyes sprung open.
  "Trust me, you'll love me for this one day," he murmured, holding his camera and taking a picture of my arms, one of which was still held in his hand. I wanted to pull away, but my body refused to co-operate with my mind. I couldn't even ask why the hell he'd just taken that picture, though I was certainly curious.
  "Greg," I groaned, not knowing what I was hoping to achieve by this.
  He took my right hand in both of his, holding it to his cheek and closing his eyes. I couldn't help but notice the softness of his skin, and was startled to feel the wetness of tears sliding past my thumb. It tickled slightly, but I made no effort to move. I needed this close contact, yearned for it to last. As Greg's face started to heat up with fresh tears, I found liquid trickling from my eyes as well.
  "Victor," he forced out, the pressure of his grip increasing as he attempted to pull my hand closer. "Please, Victor. I want to know everything about you. Let me in. Please tell me."
I tensed noticeably, astounded that somebody cared this much. Tenderly, Greg moved my hand from where it rested on his face, placing a kiss on the palm that sent shivers through me. Gazing pleadingly into my eyes, he shuffled closer to me and held my hand in his lap. Wondering if I was allowed to, I carefully wiped under his eyes with my free hand, barely touching his skin, so afraid of bruising him. I recoiled quickly, ashamed for thinking I had the right to get close to Greg like that, although, my hand was in his lap, so close to his- Victor, no!
  Regaining my composure, I looked away from him, not wanting him to see the mess of emotions controlling my features. Why did he want to know me? Why did he care so much?"
  "I-I don't understand," I stammered. "Why do you want to know?"
  "Haven't you figured it out? I'm crazy about you! And I just want you to be okay, because I know you're not. Just tell me what's wrong, let me fix it."
  "You want to know?" I asked with disbelief.
  "Yes," he pleaded, grip on my hand tightening further.
  "Okay..." I inhaled deeply, deciding to just give in and open up to Greg. I was so sure I could trust him; he was the only one I could trust.
  "To put it simply, I hate myself. I hate everything about me: my lack of friends, my appearance, my inability to make friends or trust others. I've concluded that I'm like this because I'm so alone. I barely know my parents because they're never here, and that lack of social interaction means I find it hard to trust and speak to people.
  "I have so much time filled with nothing, nothing but my thoughts, and they scare me. I wonder what my purpose is, why I'm here when I'm so damn worthless. I get so angry at myself, so pathetically depressed, and this is a result of it." I gestured vaguely at my wrists, grateful that Greg wasn't interrupting.
  "You know I don't have a good time at school. Nobody likes me, because I'm... well, I don't even know. It's just always been like that. I have to accept it."
  "Is that a footprint?" Greg gasped in disbelief, wide-eyed at a yellow, shoe-shaped bruise on my inner arm.
  "It's worst on the bus."
  "You were so tense all afternoon... is that why?"
  "I always expect something bad to happen, like today, but worse. Something violent. This was a bad idea. I don't want them to hate you. You're the only person that talks to me. Maybe you should go, just stop talking to me. I know you want to really. I can't even figure out why you're still here. You should have got tired of this joke some time ago."
  I tried to pull away from him, but his grip remained firm. He shook his head, more tears spilling from his eyes.
  "Why can't you understand? This isn't a joke. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
  "You will," I insisted. "I'm supposed to be alone. Good things just don't happen to me. I can't have someone. No one's ever here, and they never will be."
  "I'm here! I want to be that someone. I want it so badly. Can't you see that I care? Can't you see that you're not worthless?"
  No, I couldn't see it.
  "I feel so empty," I confessed. "So utterly and completely dead. The only times I feel alive are when I'm hurting myself. It reminds me that I can feel."
  "Victor. I want to make you feel. I want to make you feel so alive."
  He edged yet closer to me, on his knees, hands no longer holding mine. Instead, they leant on the arm of the settee on either side of me, supporting him as he came nearer. His face was merely inches away from mine; I could feel his shaking breathing, see his lightly smudged eyeliner, smell something that may have been his skin, or maybe his tears. I couldn't do anything to push him away from me; I wasn't even sure that I wanted to.
  His eyes flickered downwards to my lips, plump and parted and oh so ready. Or was I ready? I didn't even know. Was he even planning on kissing me? Why would he? Why did I want him to kiss me?
  The tension was killing me. He wasn't moving, seeming uncertain of himself. I wished I were able to encourage him, but I knew I wasn't brave enough. I had to do something, anything to let him know this was okay.
  "Greg," I breathed, the air hitting his lips.
  Unable to hold back for any longer, he tilted his head forwards and our lips collided. I found it quite amazing of how a simple touching of skin could make me feel like this, so alive, so cared for, so wonderful. Basically, he only had my bottom lip between his, but it just felt so beautiful. It was in this moment that I realised that Greg was sincere before, when he'd spoken about wanting to be there. I could tell, just by this simple interlocking of the lips; I could feel so much.
  A moan escaped me, encouraging Greg to lean in more and press his lips closer. I felt like I should have been doing something more productive with my arms, but was so lost in this new sensation that I could hardly move. Greg must have thought I was quietly waiting for this to end, and pulled away looking discouraged.
  "No," I murmured, and this time it was me pressing my lips on his, something I found very peculiar. Since when did I have this much confidence? Maybe it was just with Greg. I had just told him so much about myself, spoken more than I'd ever spoken in my life, probably.
  All of a sudden, my natural instincts seemed to kick in, and my hands found their way to Greg's back, just hovering there. As I decided to just go for it, I placed my arms around him, urging him closer. For once in my miserable, pathetic life, I didn't feel so alone. We were both experiencing this, feeling a flow of emotions seeping through into this kiss.
  I was startled as I felt Greg's tongue running across my bottom lip, and jerked back in surprise. He flinched slightly, apologising wordlessly, but I pressed his head back down to mine, rejoining our lips and wondering where this confidence had come from. My mouth opened hesitantly, and I groaned slightly as I felt his tongue lick at mine. I wasn't entirely sure how to do this, but my tongue would dart forwards as I moved in, and retract as I moved out. I enjoyed this even more once we shared the same rhythm. There was something about it that seemed right.
  The kisses we shared suddenly became more desperate, and I found myself shaking with something I couldn't identify. Part of me wanted to cry, ashamed at being allowed to feel so good. I didn't deserve it. Greg should have been with someone so much better than me, someone that didn't feel faint at the mention of big crowds and close physical contact. Yet here he was, with me, and I couldn't bring myself to stop him.
  "Victor," he breathed into my mouth, and I whimpered slightly.
  Shaking, his hand slid down my chest, down my stomach, eventually hesitating at the bottom of my T-shirt. When I made no attempt to stop him, his quaking fingers edged up through the material, making me quiver and oh my God I wanted this so much.
  But no! He couldn't do this! He couldn't see or feel any of these deliberate lines that adorned rather a large proportion of my upper body. If he hadn't been put off by my arms then the rest of me would surely terrify him.
  "No," I gasped, holding his hand still on my stomach.
  Immediately, he pulled back, staring frantically into my eyes and trying to retract his hand which I had a steel grip on. We were both breathing heavily, and Greg had an apologetic look in his eyes.
  "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done that. I just, I- I got caught up in the moment and I-"
  I saved him from his embarrassing stuttering by pressing a small kiss on his lips, my heart fluttering all the more for doing so.
  "Don't worry about it. I got quite caught up as well. It's just... you heard what I said, right? I'm pretty stunned at myself for letting this happen, b-but I don't regret it!" I assured him hastily, colour flooding my cheeks.
  A smile graced his features.
  "You really are adorable, you know?" he said, pressing a brief kiss to my lips. "D'you mind if I have my hand back?"
  Amazingly, I'd almost forgotten that I was still holding it under my shirt, and released his hand quickly, muttering an apology. He was slow and deliberate about removing his hand, and I whimpered a bit, yet still thankful that he wasn't close to the scars.
  "Spread your legs," he commanded, while I looked at him in horror. He simply raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "Victor, you pervert. I'm not going to do anything like that."
  Blushing once again, I obliged, still feeling horribly exposed. Greg smirked at me, turning around so his back faced me and settling himself between my legs. I found this position surprisingly comfortable, even though this contact unnerved me. My hands were clenched in fists at my sides, held stiff and uncertain. I'd wanted to roll my sleeves back down, but could no longer manage it without being conspicuous. With a sad sigh, Greg took hold of my clenched fists and pulled my arms around him. So unused to this, my body tensed, arms hard and still.
  "Does this make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked, head against my shoulder.
  "N-no, it's... nice. I just don't normally get this close to people."
  Greg grinned. "Oh really? What about last Saturday when we were pressed against each other, swaying so intimately?"
  "That was the closest I'd been to someone since I was about four," I said, smiling crookedly.
  The grin faded from Greg's face, and he tightened my hold on him. I could feel his even breathing, reassuring and strong, and it lulled me into a sense of security and relaxation. He was so warm, heating my cold heart and making me want to sleep. However, that would not have been a good idea, so I tried to initiate conversation.
  "Why did you come up to me? Y'know, on Saturday... What made you want to talk to me?"
  "Uh..." Greg's voice sounded awkward, filled with uncertainty. "Well... It's a bit embarrassing..."
  This sparked my interest, and my lips perked up slightly.
  "What?" I asked. "Tell me."
  "Do I have to?"
  "Yeah. I just told you a lot."
  "Okay. Promise not to laugh?"
  "Yeah! Tell me!" I said, squeezing him slightly.
  "Well... I just saw you, sitting there by yourself, and, well, I thought you were really hot. I mean, really, insanely gorgeous. Evidently, it wasn't just my brain that thought that, so I, um... went to the toilet..."
  Colour flooded my face as I remembered that he had indeed said that to me when we first met, and now that the meaning was sinking in, I realised that that was why he'd been blushing. I wondered now if he could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks, as I started to feel slightly light-headed.
  "Really?"
  He nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah. I know it's kinda creepy..."
  "A bit," I replied, but on the inside, I was elated.