Fernando llegaba tarde. Seguro que ya todos estarían ahí. Pero a él le interesaba una sola persona, por ella se había decidido a ir esa noche. Y la vio. Verónica estaba bailando entre sus amigas, pero sola. La oportunidad era perfecta, pero sus piernas no se movieron. Después de todo, ¿quién era él? "Un pobre gil", le contestaba su cabeza ya por costumbre. Y ella tenía una vida, un novio despampanante y una reputación que mantener. Estar ahí era un error, una pérdida de tiempo, y no le valía más que para intensificar su sufrimiento, porque la tenía tan cerca, pero tan lejos.
Verónica vio a Fernando, lo saludó tímidamente con un gesto a distancia, y desvió la mirada con rapidez. Damián estaba por ahí, en algún lugar, dando vueltas, y era muy celoso. Se aseguró de que no estuviera a la vista y volvió a mirar al frente. Se moría de ganas de que Fernando le hablara, pero él ya se estaba alejando. Verónica pensó que él ni la registraba, quiso seguirlo, pero ella no podía dar el primer paso, ¿qué pasaba si la veían? Necesitaba encontrarlo un día a solas, pero nunca se veían: no se juntaban con la misma gente. Todas las noches, antes de dormir, soñaba despierta, se imaginaba a Fernando entrando a la habitación, a su cama, y a su cuerpo.
Damián estaba perdido entre risas y bromas con sus amigos. Rubio, ojos color miel, y piel tostada. Todos lo miraban, y a él le encantaba ser el centro de atención. Tenía a la chica más linda del grupo, la mejor ropa y la sonrisa más deslumbrante de todas, pero lo único que le importaba era ver todo eso reflejado en la cara de los demás. Mientras desfilaba y cosechaba guiños se cruzó de repente con Luciano, y se paralizó por unos breves instantes. No lo saludó, si lo veían hablando con él seguro que iban a pensar que él también era un maricón. Sin embargo, no se podía sacar de la cabeza ese día en que lo tuvo agachado, con la cabeza entre sus piernas, y cada vez que se masturbaba se acordaba de Luciano, nunca de su novia.
A Luciano no le importó la indiferencia de Damián, ni las miradas furtivas que creían saber un secreto horrible que él guardaba y lo escrutaba. Había una sola cosa que lo irritaba esa noche, y era lo que estaba observando, apoyado contra una pared y apretando los puños para soportar la frustración. Ahí estaba Fernando otra vez, babeándose por Verónica, no se daba cuenta de que era una cualquiera sin códigos, un envoltorio vacío, y no sospechaba que él pagaría cualquier precio por ser el objeto de su pasión. Eso no iba a ocurrir, Luciano lo sabía, y lo mataba por dentro, por eso se quedaba en donde estaba, impasible, impotente.
Macarena también tenía la atención fija en un punto. Ella era una sombra, callada y sumisa, nadie se percataba de su presencia. Pero ella se complacía y contentaba con mirar a Luciano, porque él nunca hacía nada que contradijera a sus fantasías, él nunca le rompía el corazón, él la estaba esperando. Macarena lo miraba, apoyado contra la pared, tan serio, tan varonil, y se enternecía. Seguramente un día él la iba a tomar de la mano, sí, como todo un caballero, él se iba a dar vuelta, la iba a ver, y le iba a pedir su corazón, que ya era suyo. Por eso no podía distraerse, ella tenía que seguir mirándolo, porque de ello dependía su futuro (su presente, y su pasado).
Sabrina pasó brutalmente, empujando a Macarena con el hombro e interrumpiendo sus pensamientos. Sabrina sabía muy bien cómo leer a la gente, en especial a ella misma. Ella era un animal, nadie se podía cruzar a su paso, porque ella era una femme fatale, y si alguno no lo sabía se iba a enterar esa noche. Porque sus presas nunca se escapaban, ni siquiera oponían resistencia, era inútil. Y Fernando no fue la excepción, porque lo agarró de improvisto tirándole del cinto, chocando sus cuerpos, y a partir de ese momento ella era la dueña de sus labios, su cuello también le pertenecía, y en cuestión de horas, todo su cuerpo sería para ella.
Finalmente, la noche terminó, y ningún corazón quedó satisfecho.
Fernando was late. Everyone else were already there, for sure. He was only thinking of one person though, she was the reason why he decided to go out that night. And he saw her. Verónica was dancing amidst her friends, but by herself. Although it was the perfect opportunity, his legs wouldn't move. After all, who was he? "A silly fool", was his mind immediate answer. And she had a life, a stunning boyfriend and a reputation to live up to. Being there was a mistake, a waste of time, it only helped his suffering to grow stronger, since she was so near, and yet so far.
Verónica saw Fernando, she shyly greeted him from afar, and then quickly turned her eyes away. Damián was near, somewhere, hanging around, and he was a jealous kind of guy. She made sure he wasn't in sight and looked to where Fernando was again. She was dying for him to talk to her, but he was already walking away. Verónica thought he might not be interested in her at all, and meant to follow him, but she couldn't take the first step, what if somebody was watching? She needed a moment with him alone, but they were never together: they did not hang out with the same people. Every night, before falling asleep, she fantasized, she imagined him going into her room, into her bed, and into her body.
Damián was lost between jokes and laughter with his friends. Blond, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. Everyone admired him, and he loved being the center of attention. His girl, his clothes and his smile, they all were the best to be found, but the only thing he really cared about was the reflecion of those assets in the face of others. As he paraded around and collected winks he suddenly ran into Luciano, and he froze for a brief moment. He didn't bother to say hi, if people saw him talking to Luciano, they would think he was a fag too. However, he could never forget that day in which he had Luciano in front of him, crouching, with his head between his legs, and every time he masturbated he thought of Luciano, never of his girlfriend.
Luciano didn't care about Damián's apathy, or about the glances that scrutinized him, thinking they might discover some hideous secret he was hiding. There was only one thing irritating him that night, and he was staring right at it while he leaned against a wall, with his fists clenched just to be able to cope with the frustration he felt. There was Fernando again, drooling over Verónica, unable to realize that she was a slut with no codes, an empty shell, and the one thing that Fernando was most far to even suspect, is that Luciano would have endured any consequence, any cost, to be the object of his passion. That was not going to happen, Luciano knew it, and it killed him inside, that's why he remained there, impassive, powerless.
Macarena also had her attention fiked on a spot. She was a shadow, meek and silent, nobody was really aware of her presence. She was happy and contented just by staring at Luciano, because he would never do anything to controvert her fantasies, he would never break her heart, he was waiting for her. Macarena contemplated him as he was leaning against the wall, so serious, so boyish, and that softened her. He was bound to take her hand someday, yeah, like a real gentleman, he was going to turn, he was going to notice her, and he was going to ask for her heart, which was already his to have. That's why Macarena couldn't be distracted, she had to keep staring at him, because her future (her present, and her past) depended on it.
Sabrina brutally made her way, pushing Macarena with a shoulder and interrupting her thoughts. Sabrina had a natural talent to read people, especially herself. She was an animal, no one could get in her way, because she was a femme fatale, and those who didn't know this would find out tonight. There was no escape for her preys, it was futile to resist, so they didn't. And Fernando was no exception, she grabbed him by his belt in the spur of the moment, their bodies colliding, and from that moment on she would own his lips, his neck would be hers too, and in just a matter of hours, all of his body was going to be for her exclusively.
Eventually, the night came to an end, and no heart was satisfied.
Andrés Gutiérrez
~
photo 1: PartyPic, from http://drama16.info/?tag=party
photo 2: Party Lights, from http://www.elitedjs.ca/club-home/after-grad/
