Unwilling to Be Yours

Another QueerBlogWed where I’m not here, but Peter is more than happy to carry on in my absence with the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours.


I scrambled off of him, before I remembered my manners.

I leaned forward to offer him a hand.

He stared at my fingers with the most heartbroken look of despair I’d ever seen.

Uh oh. I must have triggered a memory of the lost Damian.

“Never offer me a hand.” He lifted himself off the floor, nearly tripping over his own limbs. “I know better than to accept it, now.”

“Do you regret accepting his?” I’m not sure why I asked the question. It was tactless. It was pushy.

I didn’t take it back. I stood there, still holding my hand out towards him.
“Do you truly regret it?”

I half expected to have my hand slapped away. At the very least, I’d get a chilly retort.

Christopher didn’t slap me or snap at me. He raised his head, considering my words. He studied my fingers with a slow, lingering attention which was almost intimate.

If only he’d been looking at me. Not wishing for someone else.

“No.” The word was filled with unshed tears. “No, I don’t. He brought me into a whole new world.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “A world I’m glad to be a part of, even if he’s no longer in it.

“Don’t distance yourself from that world.” I wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but my mouth seemed to have a will of its own. “Not if you want to continue to be a part of it.”

He stared at me, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His lips parted slightly, as his eyelashes lowered.

“You’re right.” He turned away from me and walked in the other direction, leaving me with shattered rubble on the floor.

Ah well, its demise had been brought on by my own inattention.

I was strangely glad it had. This was the closest I’d come to getting a smile out of Christopher.

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