Vinnie
Wiping away her tear, Vincenzo observed the way that the streamline stained her makeup, shedding away the brown and rosy pigment on her cheek. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if behind her pearly front teeth, she had something to say, but she found nothing. She was still trying to compose herself, and he sensed that if she had spoken, her voice may have broke. The thought hit him in the chest.
He thought that it would feel good, that it would set him ablaze to watch her fall apart. He would finally have proof that she cared just as much as he used to, he could rub it in her face that it was too late for her, that he would leave her and never go back.
But it was too late for the both of them.
Opened from a music box, she was like a porcelain ballerina, twirling as they realized that the chimes were winding slower and slower. Inside, she might have felt like she could shatter, in despair of her song ending, but he could not see it through her still, hand-crafted face.
When he was away, he must have missed half of the tune.
How he regretted not being there to hear it, resisting her withdrawal until he got her back.
And he could wind and wind on the key, but it was not his to play.
She was not his to save.
Perhaps this was why he desired to possess her, because it was the only treatment that fit her condition. If she could not speak, or make love, then he could steal her from her proprietors, and place her on his windowsill to lean on at night, watching little sparks fly and remind him of the girl she could have been.
Because he knew that they did not have the choice to bring her to life. She would never be by his side, so he decided to keep her under him.
Knowing that they were not supposed to be there, it was clear that neither of them could stand that embrace any longer. Their bodies were rigid, feeling no conduction between their hard bone and muscle. Amani could tell, when she laughed, humorlessly, and he could not laugh with her. Instead, he grimly shut his lips, staring just the same. He had no reply to give her, because she was right. They were being stupid.
She tried to avert his gaze, but he did not back down.
Instead, he tried to memorize her features while they were close, so he could remember her. He knew this would be over soon.
Their recent fun was bound to expire when she left the rooftop, so he tried his hardest to take a picture with his mind, so he could place how her nose used to remind him of a bird, and the color of her lips became more pink in the center.
One of those days, on the bench outside the conservatory, there would only be a crow, haunting the place for her.
“All this is meaningless, you’re holding… we’re holding onto nothing.” she replied, to his wordless conversation. “We keep doing this,” Amani added, going on.
“Who cares?” He cried, genuinely. But his next words forced him to sober.
“Before you go and carry out your… responsibilities… don’t you want something real? Even if half of it is arguments?”
That last question was a plea. He was not sure if she knew it, but Vincenzo’s life would soon change drastically as well. After graduation, he did not have a family to come home to. He was unsure how often Adrian would want to see him, how long Renlin may be able to stand him visiting. He would be alone, in sickness and in health, promised to no one but himself. It was certain that there would be no Amani, and the other girls at Wyndham had already written him off as bad news, so he saw no point in trying again. If he was doomed to at least another few years by himself building his career, sleeping with no one for any longer than his goals allowed him, was this not as close to love as he would get? Her insults, her resistance, her quiet moans as he kissed her ear. The stupidest part of it was that was all he could ask for.
He just needed more time.
And if she had not been listening before, Amani had heard him then. Her hazel eyes soon darted to his blue ones. It made him feel at once ancient, and so young; brittle bones and bright eyes.
“You know this doesn’t last, Vinnie.” She replied, and he felt his chest hollow for a second. She hadn’t called him Vincenzo, and immediately his lip dropped. He had something to say, something not even he was sure of but his mouth began to move, and she cut him off. If she had already felt hard, with her throat and body blocked off, then she was squeezing harder through herself, forcing out words that he could tell were anything but natural, although maybe they should have been.
”When I go to bed today, I’m going to wake up the same as always, hating you, wishing you would disappear, and I’ll go back to being myself and Azriel’s fiancee, and you will continue to despise me for all I said today and did, like I will continue to despise you for everything we’ve been through.”
Before, her words may have caused him sores, when they were attacks on his personal life. Now, it was all about her, and he saw that, so he would be intransigent. “No you won’t.” Enzo insisted, irritated not because it hurt but because she kept telling him the same story. “And I can’t hate you after this either, but I never really did.” The man shook his head, concentrating on what mattered, his voice starting to raise.
“Why did you hate me? What did I do to deserve that?”
“I don’t know what this is,” she ignored him, talking almost to herself now. “But it’s not real. Not for me. Not when I have a life waiting for me, responsibilities… Azriel, my future. And you… you’re just part of the past I can’t shake off. But I’m going to keep trying.”
“How long has this been on your mind,” Vincenzo’s voice was gritty, so much so that he had to toss his dry frustration and ask the most important question. “Amani why did you leave?”
“But I think I’ve been doing this wrong, as obviously no matter how hard I try, you keep coming near me, so I think…I think that’s how it can truly work, to be as indifferent to you as ever.”
She got closer, and he felt her lips touch his neck. She wasn’t answering his question, like she wanted to distract him, or distract herself. But how ugly could the truth be that not even she could face it?
He could now see only the side of her head, and her kisses under his jaw made him instinctively want to admire her, but he knew he couldn’t.
“Amani…” he said in a sober voice, not permitting himself to feel the pleasure of the up-and-down movements of her mouth.
“Amani…” he tried again, but she wouldn’t budge. She knew he had no objections other than his question, and presumably, she had no desire to answer, only a wish to forget. It was a wish they shared. He didn’t want to forget her, but he wanted to forget what she said to him, all of the bad things.
He shoved his arm under her chest, and gripped her by her throat, pulling her up into a hard kiss. With his hand around her neck, he pulled her closer until her body was up against his, and her feet swept slightly under them. He felt the satin of her green fabric on his clothes, and guided her hands onto his torso so that she could balance herself again. Maybe she did not want to touch him so much, maybe she did not want to touch him at all, and it was just something inside her taking over. He felt unsure, and indifferent. If she could not tell him what he wanted to know, then she would give him what he needed.
@Kristi Amani