[ti]Invite[/ti]Sippin' Love from Bottles // Asher

For the millionth time with Asher, Cerulean had his breath taken away. This time, it was the provocative kiss that sent chills rippling down his spine. Asher always had such an effect on Cerulean, like he was specifically tailored to be his undoing. At one point, he tried to map out what his point of no return in their relationship had been. If he was being honest, it was that first night at the party. From the very second that he first kissed Asher in that bathroom, Cerulean was hooked. Asher was more addicting than any drug in Panem. For over a year, Cerulean felt entirely deprived of all emotion and other people. Asher gave it to him and showed no signs of slowing down. Whether it was going back to the old industrial sector to the old rooftop to see the stars or hanging out in a bar for hours on end (as he had done the previous night), Cerulean felt like each moment he spent with Asher was like a shock of electric current running through his veins. He never realized just how much he missed other people and fun. The fact that this all came with Asher, who he also got to kiss and sleep beside - and with, now - was almost surreal.

The most dangerous thing of all was that Cerulean so badly wanted to take the last step and simply out the relationship. It was painstaking to stand beside at Asher at work, keeping his hands and thoughts to himself. More than once - almost every day, in fact - Cerulean daydreamed about grabbing Asher and kissing him in the middle of the factory floor. There would be no questions left from anyone, no hesitation. But then he’d catch the steely, ever watchful gaze of his father. Then, Cerulean would cast his gaze to the floor. So much was at stake. For Asher, his fairly serious job at the factory, one that most 19 year olds couldn’t dream of pulling, and for Cerulean, the factory itself. His parents had lost so much already, so of course he felt an incessant drive to be the best he could for them and make them proud. He could almost see their faces as he imagined telling them the truth. Logically, Cerulean knew that there were two possible outcomes: either he would stop seeing Asher and not tell his parents, or continue seeing Asher and eventually tell his parents.

Already, one month in felt like it was verging on the full capacity of secrecy. Cerulean wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide. It was extremely evident that he was spending most of his time with Asher even to the most unobservant eye. Beyond that, he’d broken at work and pulled Asher into utility closets when he could no longer wait, and it had happened more than once.

The whole relationship snowballed. Cerulean kept telling himself he should stop before it was too late, especially as they moved into new territory. The night before, he might have been able to stop himself had alcohol not been involved. Because really, the whole question of sex danced around in his mind and Cerulean found himself realizing that he wanted Asher. Sure, there had been their other escapades in less serious acts, but there was always the looming last barrier between them. When he and Asher finally drifted there, Cerulean found that he wanted it too badly to stop himself. One minute, Cerulean was trying to put up his last mental resistance to it, and to his whole sexuality in general, and then the next, it was happening.

Cerulean felt Asher’s heart quicken under him after they broke the kiss and Asher’s fingers tangled in his short hair. Cerulean laid his head back on Asher’s chest, noting that this was decidedly different from yesterday. Now, there was an undeniable air of intimacy between them that had never been achieved before. Now, he’d given himself to Asher in every single way possible.

Still, that somehow was not enough to save him when he was completely shaken to his core when Asher spoke the three most dangerous words of all. Cerulean’s blood became ice in his veins. There was at first the initial shock of the words that he hadn’t heard directed towards him in years, then the aftermath. Cerulean sat up, his heart pounding erratically in his chest.

“Oh, my god,” Cerulean said quietly, as if somehow he hadn’t expected those words would eventually come. He could feel the ice of adrenaline and panic working through his veins, the metallic taste of iron in his mouth. Love meant responsibility. Obligation. Somehow, Asher managed to put up with Cerulean despite his variable personality defined by moments of boldness and others countering it with intense shyness. But he hadn’t seen the worst, and if he did, it was all sure to come crashing down. This perfect thing they built couldn’t last. Nothing good in Cerulean’s life ever did. “Oh, my god,” he said again, pushing a hand through his hair, the panic painfully audible in his voice. Cerulean hated the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes, the visible tremble to his hand as he moved it. Cerulean stood up and began redressing quickly, finding the previous night’s clothes strewn across the floor. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized genuinely, not able to explain the extreme panic that took him. Cerulean’s hands shook as he pulled on his pants, fumbling with the buttons and the zipper which he quickly abandoned in favor of grabbing his shirt.

As he tried desperately to dress, the thought that destroyed his mind as it romped freely was that somehow, everything that was so perfect moments ago had suddenly collapsed in the most unexpected and horrific of ways.

Words: 989
Tags: Asher Reynolds

White hot panic seared through Cerulean. It was like he couldn’t move fast enough or breathe in enough air. He panicked before, yes, but never to this extent. It was like his body was both simultaneously locked up and in overdrive. Cerulean couldn’t explain the panic to himself, so how could he explain it to Asher? The only way he could begin to rationalize his mindset was the thought of how much those three words could mean. For a month now, he had been living a fantasy. Life with Asher was perfect, better than he could ever imagine. It made him feel human again, like each moment with him was a breath of fresh air, a pump of his heart that sent blood flowing throughout his body. But it was also an act of denial. The relationship only worked because Cerulean pretended it was not serious, that he could back out at any moment and that eventually, things would turn out okay.

It was like this: if Cerulean did not love Asher, his future was not jeopardized. Deep down, he felt the startling realization that he did, in fact, love Asher too. He couldn’t stay. It would ruin everything. Maybe if he left now, he could cut losses for Asher. Seeing Asher stand and stop him only made Cerulean break down more. The tears that pricked at the corner of his eyes began to spill over. Cerulean wanted to take each tear back because with each watery stream down his cheek, he felt another shred of his dignity being torn away from him. He was breaking everything. It was all his fault.

When Asher used his nickname, Cerulean let out a strangled noise of pain. Asher’s contact, skin to skin, was enough to make Cerulean want to fall into his arms and sob. Even though he was an inch away from doing so, the deep and painful ache spreading through his soul almost enough to send him further into hysterics. But that last part of him clung to the idea of saving Asher from the fallout that could come from pursuing him farther.

Each second Cerulean spent with Asher was another stake in both their hearts. When Cerulean pulled back his arm and jerked the shirt over his head. Cerulean took to the door, finally somehow managing to button his jeans despite the strong tremors running through his hands. At the door, Cerulean hesitated and looked back one last time. Then, without a word more, he tore himself away and left.

Words: 450
Tags: Asher Reynolds