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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1371687-Kiiras-Journal-2
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · LGBTQ+ · #1371687
Kiira is a 16-year-old boy whose journal follows being in love, being gay and being alive.
Waking up today was easy and hard. It’s the same every morning after you cried yourself to sleep. But this time wasn’t like the other times I cried, not at all. He was with me this time.

We sat at the edge of my bed for a long time…he held me close and I cried into his skin. I thought he’d get tired of me, get tired of it and just lay down and tell me to sleep, but he didn’t. He didn’t leave me alone. I remember his lips on my cheeks, kissing my tears as they fell. I might have been crying, I might’ve been sad, but there was a flash of satisfaction in me.

I started to panic at one point in time, embarrassing enough to admit. You know, sometimes when you’re upset all sort of ‘what ifs’ come rushing up to meet you and you panic. I remember, vaguely, breathing fast but I don’t remember what I said. All I remember is feeling his lips on my eyes and it wasn’t all that bad anymore and my breath had stopped. Before I could react, he’d pulled me closer against him. I wanted to stop crying, really, I did, so I started nearly clawing at my cheeks to get rid of the tears but he stopped me, kissing them as they fell.

It was just one of those nights, one giant conflict. I was sad, angry with Choi, but at the same time I was content to lie there in my bed with Hayo, feeling his arms around me and telling me it’d all be okay.

He called me cute. While I was lying in his arms and crying into his chest, he called me cute…me…he was talking to me. I was so flustered to hear it. I remember looking up, certain I’d misheard, but he was smiling softly at me. I couldn’t help smiling and then of course he raised his hand and poked my nose again. I blushed like I always do and he laughed like he always does, following his poke with a kiss. He laughed, I blushed again and we both smiled.

I don’t remember much after that. I remember an arm around my waist and a hand in my hair. I remember my arms around his neck and my cheek against his neck. Then it was morning. Afternoon, actually, I didn’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon and he was still asleep. He woke up at 3:32, I checked the clock when he was up, he asked for the time. I got up and I was suddenly full of energy. I grabbed his wrist and told him to get up, come with me. He laughed and ruffled my hair again, like he does, and agreed.

He let me lead him down the streets. He better, we were on my streets. He might’ve gotten lost, then again, he can do anything. I doubt he’d really get lost. In this case, chances are good I’d be the one lost and he’d have to come find me, take my hand and bring me home, laughing to himself the entire time.

It wasn’t much, just coffee and sandwiches at a small corner café but I was happier than I’d been in…ages. Talking, smiling, touching hands, touching cheeks, like that Imogen Heap song, Goodnight and Go.

We were walking back along, I remember it was getting dark. I don’t remember what I said, I have a tendency not to remember what’s going on when he’s around. He stopped me and slowly turned me to face him. I could feel my heart beating fast, see his face close to mine. I wanted to reach out and touch him, any part of him, but I held back…afraid that if I did I’d lose control…or not be able to stop.

He just looked at me for a time, stared right at me, unfaltering. I felt him slowly place his arms around me but didn't look to see. His hands were on the small of my back. He touched our foreheads together gently, brushing our noses together. I couldn't breathe, I couldn’t move, all I could do was look at him. Very slowly, he leaned forwards and kissed my cheek before gently pulled my head against his shoulder. I closed my eyes slowly and let myself melt into him, feeling his fingers stroking my hair.
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