David and Keith - the gravitational collapse
It had never happened that David found himself doing a course in car in silence. Not even during the fights with Megan - even with Samuel.
even when driving alone - which, however, the radio is always on. Always set the maximum volume.
Keith was a novelty in this sense.
And if the top had come natural to ask him some questions - try to involve him in an exchange offer, or simply a joke - did not take too long before realizing that it would be Just in exacerbating the silence to make the game even more intriguing.
When he stretched his arm to turn off the radio - when he stopped talking - Keith has stopped responding in turn. He stopped to stretch the shoulder muscles to stabilize each question on a more even tension - back perfectly straight. Look anchored outside the car windows - profile hidden in shadow. The hands buried between his knees.
David is confident that it would be enough just to breathe more deeply, to see him wince. It has also attempted to do just that, at certain moments.
Maybe clearing your throat all of a sudden - or call it by name. Move your hand directly from the gear lever to his thigh, with the naturalness of the gestures more subtle.
remained static, however, limiting the power to spy on the boy with one eye. Attached to the window with his elbow - a smile.
He always had a sort of personal ethics, in some things.
quell'erotismo burn too quickly would be a crime - such moments should be savored slowly. How
whiskey.
now - standing under crystal chandeliers in the great hall of the contemporary art gallery - just tilts his head in front of the giant painting that dominates the entrance and let his eyes slowly over the space using soft body portrait.
on curves of the muscles. Shoulders.
Beside her, Keith is setting the signature of the author - however.
For at least a quarter of an hour.
And he knew this would happen: that the boy's embarrassment was the real show - the real work of art. And the artist would have been him in the end.
He calibrates the gestures to rip his composure almost heroic traces of a subtle discomfort you do every minute more exciting. He who bites the smiles through his teeth.
moving without haste to the next painting.
Nothing is left to chance.
And if Keith is probably silently praying that the torture end as quickly as possible, David takes on the contrary, as long as necessary to allow the boy's embarrassment to undermine his self-control.
To be able to fray the nerves.
is the most exciting game that has ever happened to support.
"Oh, you see ..." she murmurs, lost, stopping in front of the next framework. "This is interesting. Very ... "
This is an acrylic painting, this time - the size of the canvas are just smaller of the other. But there
mammoth erection, in the foreground. Even
a body. Nothing.
Only a huge erect penis that stands up in a tangle of veins and sweat.
And he is forced to bite the inside of the lip hard to keep from laughing.
Not to shed the mask too quickly.
's Modern art has always seemed a gigantic shit - the deep meanings that Megan can not see inside, delirium from premenstrual syndrome.
But that far exceeds even the most surreal artists of his wife.
not remember ever having seen anything more stupid in the whole of his life.
Nothing could be more ridiculous.
Crossing his arms, takes to stroke his chin with his fingers.
"Do not see too that the divine masculine attribute is shown here in all its epic and voluptuous power?" Asks Keith, watching with one eye. "Longing metaphor of a physical significance that is spasmodic aderge the cosmic dissolution ..."
"There ..."
"not overly enunciated hyperbole, I agree," nods. "But for this very far from the stereotype of the simple expedient of cutting-edge, is not it?" Application yet.
And the boy swallows, not daring one movement. Without raising his head, either. Hidden by the hair, wet lips.
"I do not know much about art," is limited to responding. Plan.
"Hm ..." then he says - his eyes fixed on the painting. "Some say that modern art should essentially felt rather than understood."
Turns to Keith, then.
Looking at it from above, raises an eyebrow.
"Does this mean that you can not ..."
Pause.
" Hear?" Ends, holding his smile. "What you're not leaving penetrate inside you body painting? "
shakes his head, then. Bypassing the boy calmly, stop behind him.
"Well. But it is a shame ... "she whispered, bending to speak into the ear. "Because this is a great person, you know? An authentic vehicle orgasmic enlightenment ... "The
laugh is coming from.
Yet there is also a serious side too, in that his comedy of the absurd, because it is undeniable that the excitement is beating in my temples. That the blood pulsing against the artery walls at a speed crowds. Senseless. And that is not just about sex - sex burns more quickly, generally. Washes.
The discomfort of Keith, by contrast, is like fire never extinguished. Just to revive a breath - a deep breath. Hot air.
that wraps around the ear.
can hear it clearly on the skin, the tension of his body - can feel the excitement and the stiffness of each muscle.
The heat burning her cheeks. The breath.
"But, Keith ..." she whispers floor, move further towards the lips. "You can not deny that some effect is beginning to To let you, no? "Actually
are choosing the time, and how to keep the world from the palm of your hand.
Wait for right moment to launch it into space - the bow to shoot the arrow.
exciting.
must be created to mold itself around the shapes of her pleasure, that kid.
body, but not all. Even
mind.
Every single moment of life he has lived - every experience that has affected him. That made him the person he is now.
simply belongs to Keith.
and close the fingers can only have the firmness of authority claimed, when David suddenly closes the right side.
"Or maybe the picture has nothing to do ..." he continued, feeling it tremble. "Maybe it's not modern art to get this effect, Keith."
smiles, letting the silence is being extended.
allow the tension grows. It will grow again.
What becomes unsustainable.
"Maybe it's me ..." finally blows.
And it is a rubber band that breaks - the hiss of the time it snaps forward.
Even before the dizziness returns breath Keith has already slipped out of his grip - he crossed the hall. He has taken the corridor out, without looking back.
And he closed his eyes for a moment because the adrenaline seems to have pulverized the brain. Dried veins.
It is no longer even a game - the emotions are too strong for not alerting the sense of danger. In order not to want more. Even more.
knows that would be wiser to let it all go - is not so naive as to underestimate their reactions to such an extent.
Yet the next moment is already adjusting his tie, is already looking around. Calmly, is reaching the exit.
that he would not, however, the Treaty of usual fucked without consequences had understood from the start, the first time that has happened to that little boy under the eyes. It is only the challenge now. Or maybe just unconscious.
do not care.
The evening air is rough against my face, and the street lights seem to suggest crazy speeds. In the distance, Keith is a black shadow that slides along the pavement.
It leaves one wondering if he is not aware that the first flight will not take him anywhere - that will let them reach, sooner or later. It is not a fool.
The path that proves surprisingly decided linear, however, and the roadside overlook dozens of sleepers.
Without even hasten, David will take one. When
emerges again in the main street has already earned at least fifty yards on the stroke of a boy, and before it reaches Keith is even time to light a cigarette. To inhale a few puffs of smoke.
Again, the surprise in his eyes that reads repays the risk of any hazard: for a moment her eyes become huge - the pace slows down suddenly. Your lips unfold, in an expression incredulous. Soon after Keith
moves to the right, going around, and he simply takes to walk alongside. Delves into in the pockets - the amused glances. It clears his throat before speaking. He takes another drag on his cigarette.
"Do you have any precise destination?" Question finally, as if nothing had happened.
"My Home" is the answer, muttering.
"Hm."
A parted lips, David blows out the smoke.
"And it's far away, your house?" She asks again, quietly. "To adjust, you know," he adds.
Without help avoid this tendency lips into a smile. The
seems to hear, Samuel: Your only chance is that you can to be indecently disarming.
indecently beautiful, pretty, answers. What
exchange of words is almost as old as their friendship, and always a prelude to a victory. It is all too easy to bend the resistance of the professor, when the air is that electricity. Just a glance at times. The arch of an eyebrow.
Keith seems determined not to give it to him so easily won, however.
"Listen, David," beats, pausing. Press your hands over his eyes. "Forget it, so it was not working. I do not know what you said Vivian, but ... It no point in going forward, okay? Do not ... "A smile
. "No?"
"Nothing. I'm not like him, "murmured the boy, slowly. "And I'm not your type. Neither the type of shows .... Or from another. "
" I confess a secret? "Question, then, David, without badagli.
throws his cigarette on the sidewalk, then.
Without haste, crushed with the heel of the shoe.
"Neither do I have a kind of monster," he chuckles, glancing. "But honestly, admit it: the cyclopean States were worth it, would be to miss was a shame! "
tilting his head, looking with an accomplice.
"What was the name, the artist?"
"Hm."
Silence.
But David knows it already in hand - dall'allentarsi understands the tension on his shoulders. "It was called Silk," the answer in fact feel, with a whisper. "Silk something. I think. "
" Something Japanese? "
" Maybe ... "
" Yeah. "
another smile.
"And this reminds me that in fact you and I had planned a dinner ethnic, or am I wrong? "application and then, feigning distraction. "Too bad ..." A sigh. "We could direct us to something exotic, maybe. Steamed rice. Sushi. "
He shrugs.
"If only you were my type ..."
Embarrassed, Keith looks away.
"I'm sorry I ruined your evening," he murmurs. "Usually they are not always so hysterical, really."
"And I'm not so much always idiot, I swear, "he says, raising his hands. But even that does not wait for the boy to express clearly their own decisions - that's not the time to leave open the emergency exits. The
wraps his arm around his waist instead, and began to walk with him in the opposite direction. Guiding them toward the car. Talking to distract him. To hold his mind occupied.
Sometimes you need someone who accepts the responsibility to do it for us, certain choices.
And David would like to say that it is just strategy - that anything it is touching indeed.
yet can not help but admit to himself that it is incredibly gratifying to hear that, despite the hesitation, Keith's body is leaving to lead.
That could take him wherever he wants tonight.
And certainly, within a few hours, he will ask him to keep him.
The kids are like planets have their orbits - their nebulae.
But he is the sun, and this is enough.
Wine shadow. Soft voice.
And the laws of gravity, then, will certainly make the rest.
When you left home that morning, Keith had in mind a definite plan.
thought of as going to class every day and study a bit 'in the afternoon - maybe seeing a couple of hours with Vivian in the evening.
The idea that something might interfere in the scanning of its time not even touched - a life is not particularly marked by unexpected events, his.
fact.
And maybe that's also why I walk alongside David now seems so strange.
Maybe that's why the emotions of the evening are so hard to classify - to reduce in real terms, compared to others.
greater or lesser intensity, frequency of beats. Palpitations.
does not make sense.
Because the situation is so unreal to border on the absurd, and there is no way to rationalize something so unreasonable.
There is no way to explain. Understand.
Around the lawyer everything seems to invert its meaning: the smiles are scary - the menacing paintings.
And his hands have a force that should not be accommodated in touch so untouchable - his eyes are magnetic, even when he fixes them elsewhere. Even talking to the waiter or browse the menu pages or pouring a drink.
Even the room where they had dinner was different from all the Chinese restaurants where Keith has ever been. More elegant, more alien - the East a discreet presence which also invade the eyes, which occupied mind. The foods had domineering delicate flavors and aromas - new colors.
And the lawyer sat quietly with his jacket resting on the back of the chair.
His lips were folded into a smile as he ate, his eyes fixed upon him through the distance of the table.
He spoke at times. Voice low and intimate. Other times only
chewed, watching him, and it was like slowly suffocating.
Breath after breath.
Keith is not used to being at the center of such intense scrutiny.
But during the dinner did not do anything but feel his eyes on me with the impression that the rest of the room did not do anything but watch. Insistently.
It was David's fault, probably. The manner in which the light beat on her hair and magnetism that radiated.
Or maybe it was the effect it gave to see them side by side - a boy and a grown man, so different as to seem almost irreconcilable. Two worlds that were facing and had dinner together instead of fall.
Without any explanation to offer to those who had been studying. Without motivation that could overcome the density of the dark eyes of the lawyer, or the manner in which the stretch of her lips stretched the nerves of the body. The chills that slid down the back along the path of his voice.
Keith could not say what we have not even spoken. All
the speeches seemed to crumble when the silence came back to weigh each other - as if all reasoning is suddenly blotted out, leaving in place of the mind a blank slate on which to mark the path of the heart.
In those moments he could concentrate just on the slowness of their breath almost unreal - as if it were an effort of will necessary to accomplish that task so spontaneous. As if the slightest carelessness can clog even the basic biological function. Stand by absolute, in the brain and body. And in the throat, too: the vocal cords of stone.
Only when David decided to look away Keith was able to return to master their own reactions. And it was
inevitable blush at that point - lower eyes.
Take exit strategies to try in vain - to design desertions - only to lift his head when shooting the man decided to speak again. Coming together to respond to his smile with a nervous smile - to clear his throat.
whisper something.
that afternoon when he entered in his car - when he closed the door behind him - the only hope was that the old man would end quickly. That the lawyer let him go free.
And that prayer had continued to echo in my head like a mantra for the duration of their visit to the exhibition - as the man teased him and he felt himself dying, and even provocations seems to die with him, breaking his foot. Becoming
thorns.
could not say what has changed now.
Maybe just the vibration of the air - the smile of David that while still dangerous as it is made more gentle.
But when leaving the restaurant the evening chill hits him in the face, Keith found himself regretting the wasted time wishing that the minutes pass faster. A count while they spent, watching them fade.
It is as if just noticing it now, maybe things could have been otherwise - that the ending was not already decided in principle. And that opportunity has now passed, permanently, leaving no space even to remember. Without allowing
touch.
The car seems to take the lock seal that awareness: watch the lights turn on, and defined the features of the lawyer thinks there is ending, that encounter strange that Vivian has orchestrated and carried away that he was reluctantly , just to keep a promise made without thinking. Maybe. Or perhaps, simply because they refuse would have been too much even for his cowardice.
There's silence, while taking place in the car. A silence
different from what he had done them company during the outward journey, and other than that that punctuated the dinner already knows farewell, perhaps. A way as any to take leave from the present. Gently.
Spying on the corner of the eye movements of David, Keith watches him turn the keys in the framework to start the engine, fasten your seat belt with the practical actions of the driver for a lifetime. She looks at him as he bends the car radio and tune the frequency to a preset station, and it is as if he had already learned his movements, almost. As if they had been mapped in the mind - as if he had the right to feel homesick already.
This is perhaps almost a surprise when the man turns to him, instead of starting. "The eleven, "he announced, looking him straight in the eye. As he always does.
raised his eyebrows, then. He tilts his head slightly.
"Disco?"
That word is so far from the perspective where you have already done by Keith did not correspond to any of the concepts that the mind makes available, at that time.
"Disco?" Repeated, confused.
Catching his smile, David closes his left hand on the steering wheel.
"It's a dark place with loud music and a lot of testosterone in the air," he says, amused. "In Typically, you go to dance. "
" Yes, but I know what ... "
She stops, embarrassed. He looks away.
He can not understand why the man has the supernatural ability to slow down his reflexes so - confusing it that way.
It was never a particularly sociable type, but certain levels of social maladjustment not touched them since he was five years old and adults should talk to strangers.
probably not blushed so much even at that time.
pinching your fingers into a fist to catch up on some 'control, take a deep breath.
Lancia look out the window - fast.
"You do not think I'm not a type of dancing," he admits, quietly.
It's hard not to think about what others would respond, but then I slowly turned back to him.
impossible not to imagine the speed with which Vivian would have agreed - the way it would end that night if he were in his place. The completely different direction that would take away.
There is no need to express it aloud, rejection, David seems to understand perfectly - perhaps one expected as early as when he made the offer.
"I I take home? "question, in fact, quiet. Adding, almost in a tip: "Tired?"
forcing a smile, Keith nods.
"I think so. It's better. "
And the other gears in reverse - you enter into the roadway. With calm as ever, leaning just to adjust the radio volume.
not seem disappointed by the response - not even seem to want to insist, to change his mind.
"You have class early tomorrow?" Calls instead.
And it is the naturalness with which those words slip from his lips, perhaps, to destabilize Keith further. The feeling of intimacy, of family routines.
alienating, in that situation.
swallow, turn your head toward him. The slope slightly, nodded.
"At eight o'clock," he says.
"Again ... Physics?" A smile. "Or something even more terrible?"
"Mathematics. The combination on-time is not the best, in fact ... "
" Try to explain why you are so attracted to this kind of materials, "laughs the other, returning watching the road. "What makes you prefer one to a square root cazzutissima mirabilante modern art paintings, for example? Why is that strange look. The whole thing intrigues me. "
Shrugging his shoulders, Keith just change the seat position.
"Perhaps it is because I understand the square root," begins, a little 'wavering.
is not the first time facing such a speech - others have asked questions like, others have already responded with the only motivation he can find.
But David is different from any other party - and is different this time, the very reason they are talking about. The embarrassment that locks the throat and fear of failure - to show a little colder. More child. And the certainty that, if you will not pay attention, it will eventually close the evening on a note more insipid than the rest.
cleared his throat, looks at the man cautiously. Out of the corner of the eye.
"I mean, if mathematicians do not understand something, you know that you still have formulas on which to lean. Calculations to be done. Regole da applicare - regole fisse. Precise. The same for everyone, and always valid. It is not about impressions, or ... I do not know. " Shrugs, turning his head. "There is nothing arbitrary. You can make mistakes or get confused, but there's your problem: If you really commit yourself to overcome it. With art is different, there is nothing real. Only interpretations. Sensations. "Blushing, makes a face. "And if you feel nothing, it is difficult to appreciate."
"Yeah," said then the other, - his eyes fixed upon him through the rearview mirror. "And this need to have everything under control? Where does, mh? "
" I do not know. "Blushing, Keith collects his head between his shoulders. "Maybe it is genetic ..." he mutters.
"Genetics." A smile. Amused. "Probably."
David lowers the window, then. He lights a cigarette, inhaling the smoke.
"So that's why I will destabilize much?" Question suddenly, as if asking for any information.
And Keith feels his heart stop in his chest - the lungs drained of oxygen, even hours had passed since the last time you took my breath.
did not expect that the man decided to bring everything into the open - perhaps he would able to predict if the tone of the conversation he had remained the same as they were when the show - when the other seemed to enjoy only destabilize it. To destroy his defenses and bring it down, do blush.
By that logic, a lunge like this would have been perfectly logical. Almost predictable.
But something seems to have changed during the dinner and it is strange to find himself again now so bare.
not have his smirk even more to blame - they can not read his face going to hurt.
A simple question. Innocent, perhaps. Totally unaware of its destructive charge.
It seems it took centuries before the item decides to return. Before the will power to allow Keith to venture that one monosyllable - before the breath is able to flow again.
"There ..." Quickly, looks away. You are feeling flush.
"It's not that," he says finally, biting his tongue to keep quiet. "Or at least," he adds. "Not only."
But maybe David really did not intend to put him at ease, while moving the conversation in that direction, because it seems that his embarrassment is enough to convince him to drop the subject. The air
ripples around them - tends to sting the skin and nerves - while under the wheels of the car will roll out the familiar streets of the city center, and over the window, the landscape becomes more everyday.
crossings and sidewalks seen a thousand times. The gardens in which Keith played as a child.
It's so weird going ahead now, under circumstances so different from those of the past. Sitting in the car with a man - his body a few inches away. Alone.
And all that did not happen, to weigh each other.
All that could happen, and to which he has already put a brake.
felt his heart pounding in my throat when Finally, the jaguar on the road to his house.
Because the territory is still best known and everything should be easier now, but David has the power to turn even the most ordinary meaning of the horizons.
And sit in the shade, at his side, is even more unsettling than if the glass window is lit window of your living room instead of the anonymous background of a room in which you never entered. If you know that this place should at least belong to you, and you realize instead that there are no hiding places.
That he is already everywhere.
It's scary.
Have the hand on the door handle, Keith, when the man approached the right - is already counting the final seconds that remain, looking for the courage to face them.
eyes set on the path that runs through his garden, it focuses on the movements of David, at his side - the bend of his arm on the gear lever. The twist of the wrist to turn the keys in the picture and stop the engine.
Imagine his face.
And when time is almost succeeded in forcing his face into an expression that he does not reveal its too uncomfortable.
is almost unable to decide what is the best form of greeting, too. To find the courage to ask him.
"Ok, then ... Thank you," she murmurs, smiling sheepishly.
But then he meets her gaze, and any other word falls in the silence of those eyes - in the strength with which they are immobilized.
In their strongly authoritarian. Solid.
"You find it really so difficult?" Asks the man - decided - and the brain returns to jam like every time he asks something. The heart leaps into my throat - the skin reddens. Bleach.
not the slightest idea of what the other's wondering - the wording is too vague, his reflexes slowed down too. Attention irretrievably focused on the tiniest details - the shape of the fingers of David still closed on the steering wheel. The tension of the jaw and the black of the irises - the black pupils.
"Difficult to what?" He murmured, in a faint voice.
But the other is almost chillingly calm when the shadows mentions a half-smile.
"Manage the attraction," he says, still stuck in his eyes. Magnets.
Without looking away, casually stretching out his hand to turn off the radio - a gesture controlled. Almost hypnotic.
And it's even harder to be able to order their thoughts, now - to face silence.
find the strength to answer back. If possible, leave the subject. Exit
that car. Now.
"No ... I have no problem with that," replies softly.
The diversion does not seem to work, however - not even David pretends to believe him.
He leans forward, however, with every intention to go into that. Do not drop it again.
"No?" Amused smiles.
Maybe he was just preparing for this moment, even when he first approached the issue. Even when it seemed he wanted to drop those questions. Impossible not to suspect him.
"No." Pause. "... It is not that the problem," insists Keith.
And he knows not to be more convincing now than it was immediately before, but can not find a more effective form of defense. Because while it looks away to launch another look out the window knows that this conversation will not escape until the door opens.
knows that David will continue until at him, the door will never open it. What will
nailed there. Without hiding.
biting his lip, tried to breathe deeply. As regularly as possible.
But it does not.
Because when the man speaks again, more softly, the vibration of the same hue seems to slip through his hair. Touch the back of his head.
make it even weaker.
And when she whispers, in a whisper: "So much the better," the smile is mischievous. Warm.
Too close.
Keith realizes it only at that moment, that is no longer just his voice. That his fingers are really closing on the neck - that draw on the skin smooth curves. Lens.
creepy.
And her lips are already very close - his smile knows of smoke and wine. The skin is hot, even through the fabric of the shirt - almost burning.
just bowing her head towards him, the man rests his hand on the other side.
"It would have been a rather delicate problem, otherwise," she murmurs, sinking his fingers through his hair. Looking straight at me. With an absolute firmness.
"Why I am going to kiss you, Keith," he adds. Pianissimo.
"And of course," he continues, while his breath caress your lips. While the right slides under the edge of the fabric. On the skin. "Of course, I would not ever something you're not wishing you too ... you're not wanting to all night. With all of yourself ... "
Closing my eyes, contact Keith guess even before the kiss has really touched. For a moment, can almost imagine that touch will become more profound - that the heart beats slow down and become more balanced, more calm. It opens the mouth and the warmth of human hands to drop to fully cover the skin - to calm the chills, and ignite again. That his taste
teach a different light - a heaviness truer.
that the body learns to move. To let go.
is only a thought, though - the nostalgia faded as the morning that steals a dream, a vague and almost unreal.
Why is it sufficient that the mouths touch on, though - that the real excitement suddenly run like a burst of electricity down my spine - because the reality of what is happening back to rain on him like a cold shower.
And you turn the window of the house behind him, where his parents are watching some program on television. We thicken the reality of that night, and the exhibition, and embarrassment, and dinner.
Memories of the first time they met - the presence of Raven at his side, and those black eyes even then. Even then, magnetic.
Caress barely sketched last week.
Vivian.
Turn head to the side is probably more a knee-jerk reaction than a conscious decision: a need to put a little distance between the awareness and chills. Between the mouth of David and what is happening and what should not happen - and him.
man hears the surprise of her lips rubbing on the skin, however - freezes the chest muscles under her hands, when contact the firm and takes just sketched is transformed into strength. In
rejection.
let out a deep breath, Keith squeezes his eyes - you pull back slowly. "I do not ..." he says, uncertainly. Almost confused. "You better not. David. "
will not look at him, though. He lacks the courage and perhaps the will to do so - the ability to observe with detachment as the clash between reality and fantasy is flowing again in the complete elimination of any possibility of growth. Of all desire.
Moreover, the tension is already quite palpable in the air. No need to lift their eyes to realize that the burning heat of a few moments before has been replaced by anything else - just to note the almost sudden stillness of his hands. Of his body. And
entire second pass, then, before the time you come back running. Before the close
melt, slowly, and David turned back the trunk forward.
A press your back on the backrest of the seat. To breathe in, slowly.
not say anything.
clenched his fists on the steering wheel only, and the veins are defined on the backs of hands as when shifting gears. Like when there is an effort by do or something to hold.
Frustration, maybe. Perhaps
anger.
"Fine," marks Finally, clearing his voice.
inhale, try a kind of nervous smile.
"Let me guess. I bet you're not the kind ... "And Keith would
thousands of possible answers - a thousand explanations. Words already organized in the mind, already perfectly formed sentences and for once, no uncertainty. None stand by.
could tell him to Vivian, the relief of seeing her eyes become increasingly clear, as the months passed. Could tell you of his smile and all the things he said - Of all the things he thought listening.
could say that would be a betrayal even if it was Vivian himself, to ask him to kiss him. It could tell him that he does not know her, some things - that are too dangerous. They do too badly.
That there is no reason.
that basically is a good thing. It should also be good.
But in reality all these explanations mean little, at that moment, when he just turned his head to escape the kiss that has always dreamed of. When sitting in the dark, in that car, and nostalgia is already so strong as to overshadow even the embarrassment. But not enough to convince him to lean in avanti. E provare.
Perché forse è davvero soltanto una, la risposta possibile. Una la verità da accettare.
Non sei il tipo.
Né di andare a vedere una mostra né di lasciarsi invitare ad una cena. Né di finire la serata in discoteca né di concluderla in auto, sotto casa. Il tipo che si lascia toccare.
Che si lascia vivere. Baciare.
Ed la croce che ti porti dietro da sempre - l'ostacolo che nessuna delle tue frustrazioni ti potrà mai aiutare a scavalcare. Il meccanismo che soffoca ogni istinto, ogni anelito, e che ti fa precipitare a terra prima ancora di aver iniziato il volo. Per evitare dents too painful, perhaps.
Perhaps to escape the fate and her injuries.
But when the car door locks, in silence, and Keith feel the air hitting the skin and murmurs: "I'm sorry," knows that there is no salvation in the direction it is moving along.
There is no shelter, no rationality, no courage.
Only a stretch tank and a little 'flat - perfectly built up more indestructible, but completely incapable of opening to life.
Unable to resist the pressure of the world.
And perhaps, after all, to really protect it.
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