Prompt by: Isolde

This is my little gift to my dearest unnie. My great person Izz. Here it is, I know is not as fluff as you would like, but this is me trying to be as close as how you are. Love you unnie. ^.^

The Abscence Of The Other

I tiptoe through the carpeted floor trying to be as silent as possible, without emitting any sound that could wake you from your sleep. I sit on the edge of the window and open the curtains. The lights of the city create a sort of sparkling tide amongst the night. I light up a cigarette while staring at the sight at the other side of the opened window. The cold wind hits my face and refreshes my thoughts and feelings. I know how much you dislike this bad habit of mine, but the truth is: what don’t you dislike of me, my dear? I smile while the smoke of my cigarette curls over the air. I look at you and your long eyelashes falling over your cheeks and the borders of your body hidden behind the blankets. You, my sweet boy. I smile again and let out a silent laughter, bringing the cigarette to my mouth again. Why can’t I sleep at night while you are submerged in such serene slumber? I let my head fall backward and take a deep breath, inhaling your scent mixed with the scent of the night.

You asked me tonight; after breathing your love out over my neck, when your body crushed mine, you asked me one simple question. While you kissed the skin down my ear and I scratched your back, you asked, “Why?”

And I did not know what to answer, probably because my ideas always swirl uncontrolled every time you are over me, inside me, with me; what don’t you do to me. You derange and arrange them at your wish. And then you ask these questions, simple ones but so complicated to explain. “Why?” And your eyes shine amongst the dark. “Why this?” –This- and even though I try to find an answer, those three familiar words seem useless. My answers have long and short thoughts, deep and superficial surfaces. Will you hear me?

You listen my dear. What is interesting about us –about you and me- is our hypnotizing likeness. We are everything but boring. How could we be boring when you and I are part of this? Opposed, contradictory, strange, attracted, engaged, impregnated with each other.

Look at me; I wear lightweight shirts made of fine fabrics and luxury brands, short-sleeved ones to expose my arms and skin, my pale, tattooed and marked skin without reserves. My pants tightened around my tights like a second skin, evidencing my long, skinny legs. I wear a red leather bag hanging from my shoulder, metal bracelets around my wrists and dark shades giving the final touch to my feminine ways. I’m feminine rudeness, you say. And behind my black shades, I stare at you and wink. No one can see it, not even you, but you know me, you sense it.

And you lift the corner of your mouth with your witty smile; you straighten your back with your airs and graces. Wearing those jackets that emphasize the broadness of your shoulders and the narrowness of your waist. Always hiding your skin, your pure, unmarked skin only adorned by black hair. Sometimes you joke, “You already tattooed for both of us,” Maybe I do. Your pants never as tightened as mine, but adequate to show your lines, those tempting lines of yours. You are masculine, but a gentle masculinity if I must say. You are soft behind, and I am rude behind.

Our appearances are so different and yet so similar. Our bodies are as opposed as possible. My fragility is perfect for your strength, perfect to cuddle myself between your arms. I can’t be more delicate and you can’t be manlier; like white and black in a Ying and Yang sign, we are made to fit. And amusingly your sensibility is stronger than mine, your shyness stronger than mine. If only they knew. People say, “Is one or the other,” But we know better, don’t we my dear? “Is one and the other, is a duality,” I say. If they knew us better they would not doubt. But we like them doubting. I smile back playfully but it seems as if I am only smiling at the nothing, at the air. But I’m smiling at you.

Oh! We are unique. You and me. It is as simple as this: there is no one without the other. We are a combination of complementary contradictions. We are truths coated with realities. Oh! We cannot help it. We were born to stick together.

I am the so-called boss, showing control over all of you. I put on my coldest stare and everyone backs away intimidated, everyone but you. You only laugh, mock and rebel from my leadership. And your arms capture my frustrated being finding the way to vanish the coldness inside my eyes. While all die in fear, you mock me behind my back and whisper in my ear “You are no