Thursday Evening

A/N~ I'm Santa. Because I am bringing the present of an update during the night.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews. It's back to its original style. I just felt that the rant needed its own place. And I had to continue the original duality. Jon's first. Then, the whore.

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I knew that this night would be burned in my memory. Some parts would be bittersweet, I knew, but I had found out so much that I’d wondered about.

I had found out his name, Andrew, which I would never have guessed. He hated our local sports team, but liked the logo for the Raiders. But he hated football. And baseball. And most every other sport, unless he was playing them. He was 19, too. Four years younger than me. He’d dropped out of high school to ‘work’, because he had needed the money. He wouldn’t tell me for what. He got real quiet after that, and he asked me no questions. I guess it didn’t matter that he didn’t ask. I volunteered the answers.

After he got quiet, I put in an old war movie, and watched it with him. Occasionally, one of us would comment on the acting, or how the good special effects were for a particular scene. But I resisted. And I was proud of myself for that. I did not wrap my arms around him like I wanted. I didn’t have the right. Not after what I had heard tonight. I couldn’t be so assertive now.

When the first movie was over, I put in a second. I drifted off on the couch sometime during it. And when I was woken by machine gun fire, he was leaning on me, resting his head on my shoulder. I smile when I see the glint of his eyes. He’s still watching the movie. But it’s nearly over. And he’s awake. He’s leaning on me of his own choice. His body didn’t fall into that position when he had no conscious thought over it.

“God, I missed you.” I whisper. He jumps slightly, as if he didn’t know I was now awake. I feel his hand grab mine, half numb from the body weight. Then, I rest my head on his.

The end to this night is going to be hell for me.

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He asked me questions. Quite a few. They were so mundane. They were so… ordinary. My favorite sport, favorite team, favorite cut of steak, my birth name. They were all questions to be asked in idle conversations. It showed how little we knew of the other. With every question he asked, he answered for himself. I guess I should have taken the initiative to ask. But I keep on running over his words. That he wouldn’t let me go back.

I’d heard stories. Stories of sugar daddies. Some of the woman longed for them. I had never thought I would get one. I had never pinned my hopes on one. But… I guess I could have had one. I didn’t want him for his money. Maybe originally, but not now.

Now, he’s asking me about my family. I want to tell him. But I can’t. Not tonight. That’s too much. And he’s realized I’m not going to answer anything else, so he puts in a movie.

It was a good film, really. I was worried that he would try something, but he kept his hands interlaced, on his lap, like he was restraining himself.

Not too far along into a second movie, he fell asleep, leaning in an awkward position on the couch. The flickering light would cast a shadow on his jaw, making it seem much more square. And I had to look away. He looked too content asleep. Too perfect.

Was there such a thing? He was being the submissive one, tonight. Probably because I had appeared weak, and hurt, and he didn’t want to hurt me more. He wants me to take the initiative. How strange. I’m much too new to this. I lean against him, and rest my head on his shoulder. Honestly, it isn’t comfortable, but I feel much closer to him this way. And for that, the pain in the neck is worth it.

He stirred at some point, but he didn’t seem to mind. He shocked me by saying “God, I missed you.” Half of it was because I was expecting him to be asleep. And that it was the first time that anybody had said that to me, and seemed to mean it.

I grabbed his hand. Then, he rested his head on mine.