if i said you could never touch me (you'd come over and say i look lovely)

everything was right - perfect even, if he compared it to the movies and books he'd grown up with.a quiet bedroom away from the others. a mattress so soft it felt like a bed of feathers, like lying in the grass next to q sketching in the park.and then him, of course: q, the first person who'd made him feel... neither the sparks like little electric shocks fang had described to him, nor the butterflies phum had dreamily recounted all the way back in high school when toey had asked them what love felt like. q, who instead made him feel warmth and serenity. like sun-bathing at the beach with the waves rhythmically crashing into the sand and softly rolling back into the ocean – a little push and pull, but always with the certainty that they'd never be apart for long, that they'd always find their way back to one another eventually.no matter how toey thought about it, everything was right. the place, the time, the person....so then why, just why didn't it feel right?