Wooden floor boards pressed into Jonas' belly. His face pressed flat on the floor. He looked through the open door and into the adjacent room with his slanted gaze. Every object he could see was now tilted to the side.
He remembered that first encounter. Bastian had held him so tightly. How he had longed to be held tighter. And why was that? he asked himself now. He thought about it again. He had been afraid. Been afraid that he would leave, afraid that the love wouldn't be returned, but there was something else about it.
Feelings flickered into the past. Jonas pulled his eyes tight and tuned to his side. His body contorted as he replicated his movements. Hand pulled across his chest as if to remember Bastian's grip. The pleasure, the pain, the violence. And then, just for a single moment, he had been pulled into Bastian. Jonas had disappeared. Given up completely to him. The sensation was enjoyed as much as it was feared. For he was in love and he loved it. And yet this love threatened his very existence. All these feelings while pressed so close to another was so completely different to all he had ever known. Yet he could not through them away. yet he could not completely accept them.
Salty liquid squeezed from his eyes. Were these tears of love or moruning? The weight of the present met with the weight of the past. He remembered that little boy who had such fear that he promised himself to never-ever be near anyone again as he hid in his closet. here was now that little boy who once again receded into a closet only to then realise that what surrounded him was the arms of a lover. And how he had enjoyed the moment even as he feared it. It meant the end of what he had been until now.
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