Dream Boy - 10thDoM Trapped

The first time she was comfortable in someone's arms, it was with someone who didn't really want her. He'd wooed her over the course of some months, but it had all been part of a game. His words had been exactly what she needed to hear at exactly the right time. He became her exhale at the end of each increasingly tumultuous day.

He'd become a fan of her poetry, repetitive as was, and had realized that she was in a vulnerable state, the perfect prey for his favorite game. Her life was falling to pieces around her, and he knew exactly how he would play her. The first correspondence was innocent enough. He was trying to stay in touch with the world back home; she needed a new ear but remained appropriately vague.

On their first meeting, more than two years prior, she had felt a connection to him that she hadn't believed could exist. She was more excited than she should have been every time she saw him in class. When he became a colleague instead of a student, she was relieved to have someone comforting in class with her, and when he left, she felt an emptiness she couldn't comprehend.

On their last meeting, just a few months prior, she had felt the heaviness of some intention that couldn't quite find its way out of him. She always missed his presence when he was gone and hoped for his safe return. She never could figure out why she felt so drawn to him, but she secretly thought about him often and wished they could be more.

When he finally did return home, he came straight to her, wrapped himself in her and her in him. She was everything he never wanted, and he was better than she'd imagined, though she knew it was a lie. She knew him better than he knew himself, but that only made her feel worse. Everything she'd ever dreamed of was trapped in the body of a boy who would never want to be her man.