Cold Fate - One Hitter (Short Story)

Empty spaces fill me up with holes

Distant faces with no place left to go

Without you within me I can’t find no way

Where I’m going is anybody’s guess

The dim lights from the windows let just enough light to make his dark brown strands of hair visible in the hallows of his room. His light colored skin was cold making the muscles in his arms twitch and harden against the chilly indoor air. 

His frozen feet laid flat against the cold marble floor and his bare chest made the cold air kick into his body harshly. The little particles flowing inside of him slowing down the only warmth inside his body. Its feeling of that warmth was lost to him, as was the pieces of his perished soul in there as well.

The only warmth he felt was from the waist below, which was wrapped with the cotton of his sweats.

It was bitterly cold and it wasn’t due to any broken heaters, he liked it that way. Cold enough, he could see his own breath in the air of his own home.

Home.

It wasn’t his home.

Explaining why he preferred it as cold as it was. Warmth in a house of ice would be a lie.

And he hated lies.

The cold smokes of air that appeared periodically helped him take in the reality that he was still alive. It was the only thing proving the truth of life still laid within in him. For all he felt was a painless and un-soothing numb throughout his body.

The room filled in silence, and his bed sheets behind him laid mixed around and tangled within each other. Their whites looking a bit blue and a bit gray because of the reflecting colors coming in from outside. 

Outside the clouds that circled the visible ocean filled the skies, causing a light, dim overcast. Making his room and his skin blue also.

It matched some things; his bed, the colored walls…but it all went against his eyes. 

The brown pools fought against it, making the colors clash so none of them made sense. Visions of allusions was al he ever saw. 

He wondered if he would catch a cold this time, if it would have any effect on him at all. He sat like this often but never had caught anything. It was like he was immune to it. Something always protected him from it…he didn’t know why though. Why keep someone unaffected from getting hurt? One would say it was because something bigger was awaiting him. He said you couldn’t hurt what was already dead.

Now fully numb to the cold, he falls back onto his tangled sheets, getting himself tied up in the mess as well. His eyes land back on the window.

He hoped for a moment for it to rain. If it were a movie it would have been raining right now. If he were writing this as a song it would have been raining too. The clique scene that was often used to capture the elements of his emotions seemed to attract him at the moment. 

His eyes burned holes through the window as he reached for the small white box to his side, pulling out a thin stick and placing it between his lips. One hand blocked the flame of his lighter from the cold weather while the other one moved to light it. He had heard the thinner they were, the worse they were for you, and so naturally he was attracted to them instantly.

The hot air burned through his chest, warming his throat and traveling through to his chest, before he pushed it back out releasing it through the slight opening of his lips. Heat passing through his insides while he sat in the bitter cold was some feeling.

It was during his appreciation of his cigarette, when the creaking sound of his door made him turn his head to his side. He watched with curious eyes, even though he already knew who it was.

The door pushed open enough for her to enter. She was wearing a dress, which hardly met her knees halfway, bearing her skin to the cold also. When he had first met her she would guard herself from it, but since she had started to come around here, she slowly picked up his ways.

His eyes traveled down and settled on her legs, it was his favorite part about her. Her legs were tanned and smooth, the opposite of his pale rough skin. It made her seem more human than he, like as if her blood flew more freely to make it throughout each vein. He wasn’t sure of how freely it flew for him.

Soundlessly she walked towards him and he turned his head back to his former position, not liking what was going to happen, but knowing there were not traces of “no” in his mouth either. This scene was familiar and he knew this story before he had ever heard it. It was simple. 

No one had said it, but he could fucking hear it. The scene had already begun playing; she would come with hope of changing him, and be the one to save him. He wondered why whoever the fuck had written the script wouldn’t pay attention to what the hell they were trying to make a reality, because that wasn’t it, it was but an illusion. He wasn’t capable of saving, and no one could change who he was.

The story others would tell was quite different. They would look at her as if she were less now that she was his. She would be a shame, another girl who had let him take advantage of her, another one he would use and dispose of.

They were stupid, she was smart. Unlike the others she knew him, and knew what she was getting herself into. It might of hurt her that she couldn’t bring him warmth, but she would soon realize no one could.

He felt his bed dip in as her body lay down next to him, before he could turn his head again towards her; he felt the warmth of her arm drape across his chest. It surprised him a bit, she was just as bare as he, but was so much warmer.

“You’re still warm” his voice still held its raspy slow tone.

She laughed.

“And you’re still cold…” her voice trailed off before finishing quietly. “ain’t that something”

Kissing his teeth, he ignored the double meaning behind her words, and used his hand to bring her hair out from underneath her back, running his hand the back of her neck to the roots of her hair, gently fiddling with her baby hair, the way he knew she liked. He would do that much for her.

He watched her eyes close at the feeling and her fingers run up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos, which were permanently embellished in her head. Her settle and peaceful movements didn’t last long before she was burying her face in his neck, placing kisses up his chin. She could see his features even with her eyes closed, but she could only get lost in his feel like this. 

His tolerance had faded also. He sat up, pulling her up also by her arms; he roughly sat her on top of him. His hands held her hips down and his fingers pressed harshly against her hipbones. She leaned forward bring her face near his and he met her halfway, biting on her lip as he pulled her tender flesh down, he flipped her over, so now she lay helplessly beneath him. When he had first seen her, she sat on a shelf untouched, now she lay somewhat torn and scattered fading into his unmade bed. In a room with him, where the sunlight sneaked through his blinds, which were barley shaded.

She held her head up, supporting herself on her elbows to reach his face with her lips, but he stopped her pushing her down and holding her there still as he gawked down at her. He had been secretly longing for her to walk through his door.

She knew. She knew him, more than he knew himself. And he knew she didn’t like it anymore than he did. But she wanted him. The raw, cruel, and ugly him. He didn’t understand it. And his forehead wrinkled as he thought why. 

“Alex?” she called to him drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” the sound came deep from his throat, and her hand came up rubbing his cheek, and as if reading his mind, she smirked at his silent question as she answered it simply.

“I love you”

He hadn’t figured out that part out, and he was taken back with how she did. He had the art of being an asshole painted down perfectly, and he couldn’t come back from what he was even if he wanted to. The silence acceptance in her eyes said she had already settled, and he then decided to tell her the feeling was mutual.

“Me too.”

He leaned down pressing his lips against hers. Securing them tightly for a moment and bringing themselves into the everlasting torment the both caused within each other both at once. He lessens his grip around her wrist, careful not to bruise her skin which he can see is still stinging surfacing from the marks of last time, he didn’t want to cause her anymore redness. 

He kissed a trail down her neck and onto her stomach; his head being filled with sounds of her soft moans as she tightly clutched his body to hers. He pulled back slightly to pull at her clothing fabric and removed it slowly, making sure not to harm her back; it’s where he feels he’s ripped her wings from, and he doesn’t want to scar her anymore, instead he turned her to her side, kissing her imaginary wounds, which pained him in an sense all too real. 

She wouldn’t run and tell what he’s done. She would stay unguarded and silently pray while falling asleep for a bit more strength to carry on with. He lit a fire within her, but it would only be so long until there was nothing left for him to burn. And he would fear it. Not wanting to wrap himself with anything that had her scent every morning after she left, because he would never be able to show her how much she meant. He didn’t want to be the one to put out the last of her flames for good, and for her to feel his.

It wouldn’t end well for either of them.

Meeting her was something he regretted. He was fucked up and he would fuck her up too, there was nothing neither could do to stop it, and he knew this. Pushing himself into her, he cursed the heavens above. 

For their fate was a cold one.

I don’t mean to drag it on, but I can’t seem to let you go

I don’t wanna make you face this world alone

I wanna let you go