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Author: Scar

Beta reader/editor: Hannival Kinney
Category: Soap opera
Series: Alles was zählt
Characters: Deniz Öztürk
Genre: introspective, melancholy
Rating: PG 14, yellow
Warnings: Slash
Notes: A point of now in nostalgia for a past moment. Episode 307



Every time it happened, perhaps by chance, his lips were stretched into a thoughtful smile. Often his own head had suggested him to delete the message, lost in the depths of his cell phone, but his finger couldn't obey his commands. He used to shut it away, but then, by magic, it could resurface after months like some petals of a flower torn and thrown with disdain in a pool of water.

And more than once, his first time was coming back to him like a sudden flash in the dark sky.

He had never said to Roman that when he had slept with him it hadn't been only his first time with a man, but his very first time with anyone. Probably Roman had, in fact, noticed that, but they never touched the matter.

It wasn't important. For neither of them.

Roman's touch was intense, but always kind, no matter if you were a virgin or not, it was comforting, satisfying, like a piece of sky that could enter and exit through your body, for driving it by the hand towards the highest peaks.

He himself couldn't be so delicate.

With women it was natural to be quiet, he was cautious, more inclined to please and not to keep for himself.

With him he couldn't.

With Roman he used to loose control completely, as if someone else had took possession of his body, guiding the jerky movements and freeing from his dry throat sounds and words that he could never repeat if he had been his actual himself.

For this reason, after sex, he used to glance at him quickly to check for bruises and rough bite marks on his creamy white skin.

But Roman's gaze was probably a reflection of his, always smiling, happy, lost in a boundless sea of ecstasy.

All this used to happen during the first times, later he stopped caring.

Roman fitted him perfectly.

He still couldn't understand why he stopped loving him, or better said, loving him less than his fear of living.

And yet their first time had marked his soul as if it was his skin, and after coming back home, sorry for being late and for his father, who waited for him worried and awake on the couch, those words on his phone-screen warmed his heart, and his anxiety disappeared in a puff of wind.

He smiled.

And that night he kept thinking of him, about the way they had loved each other, and his heart seemed to want to explode from his chest, to jump out the window and run through the streets shouting, in the silence of the night, all his happiness and desire.

He had never forgotten his first time. Even when Vanessa seemed to totally fill his thoughts and his dreams, Roman was always there, somewhere, in a small corner of his heart, just like that 'goodnight' forgotten in the bottom of the phone he never had the strength to delete.

And he wouldn't have done it.

He doesn't.

Even if they keep saying him that life goes on and that all memories can be enclosed in a cardboard box, along with photos, medals and cups, which most likely will even survive him, he doesn't.

He sighs.

Once again he wraps his cell phone in his hands, while Florian wishes him good night as he opens his bedroom's door.

He's lying on the couch with a pillow under his head and a colored blanket on his legs.

The display turns on again and that message, never forgotten, shines in the bluish light of those memories that no box will ever be able to contain and put aside.

Sleep tight.

I'm dreaming of you.


He smiles.

But it's a bitter smile, and a puff of wind can't erase his agony right now.

Who knows, maybe one day he'll be able to close a tiny part of his pain in a box, or at least to go back to sleep in that yet unmade bed, without feeling any longer the coldness of the empty place at his side.


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