Playing With Fire : A Super SUPER Short Story

DISCLAIMER: Despite what you may believe, this is a work of fiction.
The reason I called it 'Playing With Fire' is because it deals with similar themes as the song of the same name.
Don't read too much into this ;)

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We both lay there not saying anything.

I could see light from the moon streaming in through the cracks in the curtain, casting strange shadows on the posters on his wall.

The room felt cold, unwelcome.

I tried to listen for a sound, for anything to distract me from the feeling of guilt that blanketed me.

I heard him take a breath.

“This can’t happen again.”

He thought it was a mistake. I guess I agreed with him.

I must have thought it was a mistake too. 
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Despite what I lead everyone to believe, I never wanted anything to happen.

We had played a sort of strange cat and mouse game with each other for months. Leading each other on but never following through.

It had been fun for awhile. 

Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to look at him.

I hadn’t waited for an invitation. 
He didn’t ask for one. 
But as soon as it happened, we both knew it shouldn’t have. Something changed between us.

What was once an unspoken rule that “nothing was ever going to happen” had been broken. 
I guess I had broken it, but it was an accident.

I felt worse than he could have realised.

He must have thought this is what I wanted. He could have convinced anyone that I was the instigator in all of this. That's how it would look.

But I didn't want it. I never wanted it.

He wasn't the victim.

And I never pretended to be.
But I couldn't stand that he thought I was the one who started all this. 

We were both wrong.

Everything that happened between us up until this point was wrong.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning” I had told him, half-joking.

He told me that he already did.