Caused everything

Caused everything

Felix

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"After reading all this, my greatest hope isn't that our relationship goes back to how it used to. I want us to evolve and learn from our mistakes and actions. Before telling you about my past I lived in denial. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried not to see the lonely and naïve sixteen year old boy that I was, but not anymore.

I don't want to hide that part of myself because, in the midst of hell, I found a bottomless well of strength. I want you to look at me and not see a fragile, damaged, innocent boy: I want you to see the strength I have in me and not doubt it. I understand this might be difficult for you, which is nothing more than a testament of the care and concern you have for me, but I need you to know this Felix: I will impatiently (albeit respectfully) count the days until you finally realize I'm not a porcelain doll, that you can touch me, that you can surprise me, that you can fantasize about me, that you can tie me down and blindfold me and pinch me and paint me and edge me and make me ask for more. I anticipate you going slower, softer, checking in all the time, asking what I want, and perhaps even holding back. That's okay. I want us to move forward because it feels right, not because you feel pressured. It will take time, I know this, but I will wait for your darkened voice, your strong hands, your heaving chest, your lustful eyes, your lips roaming every inch of my body. I will wait for showers, secret rendezvous at Durham, weekend getaways, dates that end in paradise. I will wait for aftercare and hot water bottles, for you to wipe my tears from my cheeks, for you to utter "I will take care of you" and for the day you let me do all these things to you. I will wait for all this because that's what I want, and I want it with no one else but you."

I read and reread the last part of his essay whenever I got the chance. Like a student trying to memorize information for an exam, I read it on lunch breaks, when I got home, before I went to sleep. I read it so many times I had even memorized a few passages.

As each day went by and I had more time to reflect on those words, the more my admiration for Blair grew. I thought I was doing the right thing when I pushed him away, but now I wasn't so sure. He was trying so hard to convince me our relationship wasn't harming him, and I slowly but surely was starting to believe him.

Independently of the arguments in the essay (which on their own were already pretty convincing), the signs were there: now that we were back on good terms, he always smiled at the ground when he walked past me at Durham, he was so much happier when he interacted with his friends, he texted me a few times a day just to ask me if I was doing alright. I was hesitant to do the same, but once I saw his beaming face whenever I showed him affection, my hardened heart melted.

He'd come up with the craziest ideas so we could meet during the day. Since Professor Agnes and Kent thought I despised Blair now, we couldn't be seen together under any circumstance. However, even though meeting in random storage units to make-out was incredibly risky, I knew that we both needed this. We had to rebuild our bond, and having strict rules about only seeing each other during the weekend would hinder that very delicate yet vital process.

However, it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. In those first two weeks after he wrote me the essay, I was plagued with doubt. At night when I was alone, my rational, cynical self would come out and convince me I would do him harm in the long run. I was haunted by the thought that, even though we were rebuilding our relationship, we were building it for nothing. After all, there were only a few months left until the end of the semester. What would happen to us then?

To drown these anxieties, I smoked, painted, and drank. I did all this upstairs where he wouldn't find out. I didn't want him to know I was still feeling like this, and I especially didn't want him to find out about my habits.

When I was alone with my thoughts there was this foreboding sense of doom hanging over me, but when I was with him the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and I was entirely in the present moment. Kissing him in that storage room close to the Durham church like two rebellious teenagers was my saving grace. I didn't touch him apart from kissing, still worried to death that he'd feel pressured to engage sexually with me, but just kissing him was more than enough to tame my anxieties.

Now, as we found our rhythm again, I was wondering when he'd make a move. He had began to let his hands and lips roam on my body, and I gladly let him. At first I was hesitant to do the same, so he'd physically drag my hand to the places he wanted to be touched and guide my head so my lips would kiss his neck. It were in these moments where we'd slowly became more confident with touching each other that I realized how touch deprived I had been. I had missed being held, kissed, cuddled with. It sounded pathetic given that I was the one to cause all this, but a whole month of needing reassurance through touch and not getting it was really hard.

One thing that did not change from the beginning of our relationship to now was that quiet, simmering anticipation that came on Friday. Friday was the day we'd finally be together in my apartment. It was a feeling of getting to the finished line, but this time Blair had an idea in mind.

At around lunch time I received a text from Blair. He had asked me for my apartment keys so he could go there earlier. He wanted to prepare a special dinner that took a few hours to make, and so he needed all the time he could get. I was only leaving at seven that Friday because I had a meeting while he was already free at five, so the solution was me giving him my keys.

I was hesitant at first. He had never asked me this, and I had a feeling he had more on his mind than just dinner. That would be something future Felix would have to deal with and decide.

I got out my keychain, inspecting the various keys I had. I couldn't give him all of them, especially my "home office" keys. I decided to take off the keychain the keys he needed to get into my apartment and nothing more. Besides, if he lost the whole keychain for some reason, Durham would have to change a few locks and that would be terrible.

I gave Blair that excuse, agreeing to give him only the necessary keys. We then decided it would be best if I left the keys in an unsuspecting place and he could go get them. The best spot we had found at Durham for that was the storage room, so at ten to five I let my keys there, standing a considerable distance away from the door and smoking a cigarette. Blair appeared a few minutes later, his eyes falling on me but quickly turning away. He entered the room and exited right away, hiding the keys in his pocket. He looked back at me and I winked.