Yves. When I open my eyes and see the ceiling, the first thing that I think about is whether or not it was my imagination that my ceiling wasn't textured before. I have, after all, been in my new house not very long, and so it's an understandable mistake...but the patterns and swirls in the plaster seem so dreadfully unfamiliar I'm convinced I'm going mad. Then I let my eyes drift to the window to see if I actually remember anything about my new flat, and that's when I remember. I slide myself up to view the room.
Sounds float from the record player in the corner of the room as I become more aware. Very calm sounds. Soft piano, and I can tell it's on the record player because it sounds like someone's playing it maybe sixty years ago and it's being transported to my present.
I'm quite alone in this bed that isn't mine, but quite warm and comfortable, as if it could have been mine. I panic for a second, when I find that my new aquaintance has abandoned me so soon, but then I see the little white card beside the bed and understand that I should stop worrying about him leaving me. For now, at least. I pick it up-
'Gone to work, back at 11. Do what you like, but please stay here. 0 x'
-and I sit back, look at the clock -ten thirty, I slept for quite a long time- and relive last night to pass the time.
I'm in the kitchen drinking coffee from one of Gabriel's four cups. I get the feeling this number of cups is for a reason- and the four cups are so different from each other I think they're for specific people. I'm drinking out of a dark purple cup with a gold shiny handle. I assumed the black one was Gabriel's.
This is when he comes back. I hear the key click in the lock, and try not to run to the door like an agitated puppy. I've dragged on the jeans I was wearing last night, because I really didn't expect to not end up in my own bedroom, and opted for no shirt because it's warm, and I couldn't find mine anyway. So when Gabriel turns around to shut the door behind him, his coat twirling out, and pulls off his gloves and scarf, I feel sort of underdressed, in a very basic sense of the word.
He's dressed impeccably, as I assume is his habit, even though I suspect this is his casual wear. He throws his coat over the arm of the sofa and he's wearing a black long-sleeved top with a very wide neck, his delicate bones incredibly visible. He's obviously had a shower because his hair looks perfect, and when he finally, finally locks his pale eyes on mine it sort of feels like an off-schedule sunrise. Except in an arctic setting, obviously. He stalks towards me wordlessly, feet silent on the carpet when he takes off his boots, and without any warning at all, slips without effort onto my lap, and as he folds his arms about my shoulders I'm startled when I realise it's Picasso the cat who is purring by my ankles, and not the angel/devil on my legs. When he does eventually stop staring at my eyes in an quite creepy manner, and kisses me, it's very gentle, and pure, I suppose. I think that would be a good way to describe it.
It's not like last night in the nightclub when I thought he might start attacking me at the same time, it's not like the first time when it felt like he was trying to put his mark on me as much as possible- it's not like in the middle of the street when he was making it clear to all around us that I was inescapably his- it's not even a touch arrogant, no sense of 'I like you but I'm better than you'...nothing like that. It's like he's making himself an equal, finding the pace of my mind, and sort of -fuck, I sound like a fifteen year old girl- conveying emotion. Like, real emotion. That I don't think Gabriel Vincent likes to let the world know about. So I sit, while this happens to me -although it's probably way more mutual than that implies- and close my eyes and feel everything.
He used to seem more statuesque to me. Carrying with him some mysterious air of carnality- a sort of untouchable factor to his presence. When he arrests you with his eyes- handcuffs and everything, no chance of moving when he decides to look at you- there's a sense of unattainability to him. It's like, he'll call you; no other way around it. Almost making you feel guilty and disappointed in the way you know you'd give in to this concupiscence in a second if he asked. What I'm feeling now is at odds with this. He gives, while sercetly kidnapping each breath from me. He feels soft and warm and inviting, like I could live in this position forever. He manages to be closer to me than I thought was possible by sometimes being just the gentlest sensation on my lips. It's innocent. I feel him smile as this comes into my head. I think I may have mentioned he reads minds...it's no longer innocent. It's him pretending to be innocent when in actual fact, his emotional moment has passed and now he's being a complete fucking tease.
All is fair in love and war. So I pull him much closer, and play whatever screwed-up game he's trying not to tell me I'm involved in.
-Hey, hey...way to ruin the moment, Yves.
He looks down, hair falling over his face to mask his smirk.
-You ruined that moment, Gabriel.
-Mmm.
-What moment, anyway? What was that about?
-Just a thought. Just an idea.
-What idea? And how was...work?
-Work? Yes, work was good. I worked well today.
-And the idea?
-An idea I had at work.
-Which was?
-I don't know if I want to tell you that.
Problematic, I think he could be stubborn if he tried. However, I can tell from how dreadful his attempt was to change the subject that he doesn't really want me to let this go. Or maybe just let him go. All part of the game, I suppose.
-You won't leave until you tell me.
I wrap my arms tighter around his waist. He looks down at my hands as if they are foreign objects he hadn't yet taken into consideration.
-That's not such a problem for me, you know.
He reaches behind me and starts drinking my coffee that I can no longer get. I try a different tactic.
-Please, Gabriel, darling, please tell me what it was.
An eyebrow shoots up in incredulousness.
-That, Yves, was a very poor attempt. You know very well I wasn't going to fall for that.
I think for a moment. This is impossible. In a nice way. This is a problem, but a nice problem. It's probably always nice to have a problem that keeps kissing you. Brainwave.
I make my voice low and quiet, an attempt to imitate his own big cat purr.
-Gabriel. I was thinking that I'd quite like to go and have a shower soon...
-Go ahead, Yves, I'm not stopping you,
His eyes are wide with feigned obliviousness.
-You're on me, Gabriel. You'll have to tell me, then I can let you go, so I can take my clothes off and...
They get wider in mock horror.
-Yves! What are you implying?!
-Nothing, Gabriel. But it's of the utmost importance that you tell me right now what your idea was, so I can become clean.
He sighs, completely overdramatically. I think of Lady Macbeth.
-Fine. If you must know...
-Yes, I must.
-I was just thinking that I suppose I'm quite fond of you.
For a second I think this is his false anti-climactic response to delay me a little further, but he looks so faintly forlorn I'm pretty sure this was his genuine, real idea.
-...that's it?
-Don't look so disappointed,
he snaps,
-I mean I'm not fond of anyone. Except for you. Do you understand this? And if I am fond of anyone, I suppose some people might label my relationship with Sally-Anne and Shirley a mutual fondness, I'm more fond of you. As in, I'd probably go so far as to say I like you. I'd probably go further but that will inevitably cause some form of boring British awkwardness and you'll leave and forget about me. Not that that would affect me in the long run, obviously. Just that I'd prefer it if you didn't.
That was unexpected.
-And that was the idea. That was why when I kissed you this morning, I did it differently than how I did yesterday. Can you understand that? I tried to make it different. Did you notice?
I'm completely obsessed with a psychopath with a limited concept of emotional empathy. This is clearly what I've always dreamed of.
-Yes, Gabriel, I understood that. It was a good idea, I liked it. Thank you.
-Have we finished this conversation? Can we go and have a shower now?
-No, Gabriel, one more thing.
His tone is abrupt and distinctly uncomfortable, interlocked fingers tensed on my shoulderblades.
-Please make it quick.
-You don't like talking about how you feel, do you?
-What a genius I've fallen for. How well this man seems to know me!
He addresses the air with disconcerting overemphasis.
-Right, right, yes I get it. You're not normal. That's fine. Just this- if you could bear it...would you go further?
-That would be a very unintelligent thing to do, Yves.
-Would you do it if I did it first?
Long pause. Mistrusting gaze.
-...maybe.
-That's good enough. Gabriel, I adore you. I'm quite worried that this time next week I'll be in love with you. Does that make you want me to leave?
-...No.
-So?
-That's what I meant when I said 'go further'. What you said. I think what you said. Is that done now? Can we leave this topic now?
-Absolutely.
-Good.
He jumps off me with the grace of Picasso, the only witness to this clearly unhabitual conversation for Gabriel, and is about to walk down the corridor when he turns around as if he's just remembered I was there, and kisses me with such force I end up sitting down again, at which point he realises, and goes back to the less agressive manner in which he'd greeted me today. This time though, there's some gentle persuasion.
-You need to have a shower. Before you say anything, I'd like to remind you that this was totally your own idea.
-In which case, Gabriel, I accept full responsibility.
He pulls me by the arm down the hallway, and I have to say, I've no idea what I've got myself into. A quick reassessment of everything tells me this: Three days ago I moved from a quiet suburban life to a very busy city. Two days ago I met this man. One day ago I altered my entire perception and slept with him, and this morning, I practically declared my love for him. This should probably worry me, but he's taken off that black top and is glowing underneath the Sunday morning sun from the bathroom window, and thinking straight is so clearly not going to happen anytime soon.
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