Trial and Error
Chapter One: Trial of the Mind
Disclaimer: I had fun with this story and would have even more fun if I owned these two wonderful characters... sadly... no. Just like everyone else -cries-
Author's Note: Hah, just me again, taking up your time by writing a note. I had fun writing this story. Still am. I'll tell you right now, it's only four chapters long and I'm nearly done with the third. Just thought you should know. Oh, and I tried to keep the two in character as much as possible... but I may have slipped up somewhere. Again... just thought you should know. Enjoy the visions I see in my mind.
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He needed to stop thinking.
It was driving him towards the point of mental insanity and he didn't know how much more of this torture he could put himself through.
But, he couldn't stop.
His mind wouldn't stop returning to the male just down the hall.
Only two doors down from his…
Such an easy target…
Target? No.
Well, yes.
Target of his affection.
Unh.
That word again.
How many times had that word, representing all that was unholy, crossed his mind and wormed its way into each of his thoughts? Too many for him to count.
That white hair… sharp mahogany eyes closed in frustration, fingers moving up to grip his head… he had touched it once; it was so soft. Like… some sort of silk river running against his hands. He sighed, bringing his hands around to press his palms into his forehead.
He had been asleep, of course Never knew… could never know. No one could ever know these thoughts.
If someone caught on…
If word ever slipped…
He shook his head.
No use thinking anymore.
He looked up, towards the open window across from where he sat. It was late, he knew that much. Pale light was the only source of illumination that was making parts of his room glow.
How long had he just been sitting here, talking and thinking to himself?
Shadows shifted across the walls, a car passing by out below. Silence again.
Too long to be healthy.
Uncurling his pajama – clad legs from his body, he stretched them out in front of him, feeling the dull ache that could only come with limited movement in an extended period of time.
His body felt cold.
Everything always felt so cold when he wasn't in the same room.
Looking back at the window, he watched the night's natural light highlight the roof of the house adjacent to theirs.
A sudden urge swept though his body, startling him. Legs swung over the side of the bed and he was standing, throwing a glance down at the nightstand, before he was walking towards the door.
He needed to see him.
3:23 am.
He stood there. Staring, watching, observing; call it what you will. But he couldn't take his eyes away.
The doorway was his current location, just barely stepping into the clean room. So unlike his own. That was irrelevant though; his thoughts quickly morphing back to the boy on the bed.
Slowly, he drew closer. Silence was the key; if he awoke – No. No thinking of what wasn't going to happen. He was below him now, thin body stretched out on its back, sheets tangled down against his waist, a single foot poking out as he shifted slightly, one hand buried back under his pillow… he was so close.
He could reach down and touch him, if he wanted.
He did want to…
But, if he awoke – no!
Gods be damned.
He would not be caught.
Reaching a hand down, fingertips softly – oh, so softly – brushed against porcelain skin. From his cheek to his jaw, the flawless flesh never seemed to end.
He stirred, making mahogany eyes dart up to rest on the sleeping face. What he saw made his left eye twitch and his mouth curl into a small, confused scowl.
The boy was leaning into his touch.
Did that mean something?
Did he want more?
He reprimanded himself for asking such foolish questions about such nonsense. It didn't matter what it meant or what the boy wanted. He had neither time nor feelings for the child.
Feelings?
He wasn't actually harboring such illusions as these… feelings, was he? It had been such a long… long time, since he had felt… whatever he was experiencing.
Drawing him from his momentary thought session was a soft murmur of words, incoherent to the conscious male's ears. He realized that he was still caressing the cheek that leaned against his palm, a faint smile toying across slightly parted lips.
He wanted those lips for his own.
Only he could look at them, touch them, kiss them…
No! – No. Thoughts such as these always ended up leading to something bad.
Stop thinking.
'Get out of the room… you've had enough time to gawk like a love – struck weakling.'
His pride was talking to him; that strong sense reverberating around the inside of his skull.
'Go on, keep looking. You're not hurting anything by looking.'
His reason spoke up this time.
Fantastic. He was hearing voices now.
His fingers moved down a pale throat, shifting further to gently run against the slim expansion of chest stretched out under him.
No… he wasn't hurting anything.
This was supposed to be helping to quiet whatever he was feeling.
Then… why wasn't it going away?
The backs of his fingers brushed lightly over a small set of ribs, down onto a thin stomach. Blankets.
He felt a growl escape his throat, directed towards the material that covered the unconscious males' waist.
Stupid coverings.
Always getting in the way.
Concealing the lower half and…
…Why did he care?
What was that?
His eyes were drawn back to the angelic face laid back in the blue pillows, lithe body shifting under his finger. Emerald green eyes cracked open to stare sleepily up at him.
He froze.
Caught… carelessness, foolishness – idiot!
Run.
No – stay.
'You are his superior.'
Just relax.
He was awake now, scrambling to sit up and back away against the wall.
'Calm him down, he's scared.'
'Good.'
'Be silent and get out.'
Casting one last look at the boy, terrified and bathed in moonlight, he turned, calmly padding out of the room.
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Review and I'll continue.