He couldn't. He averted his eyes towards the sand and blushed slightly. He felt something different growing inside of him from Justin's stare. He felt it between his legs and in his mouth, salivating with hunger for human flesh and scent. He felt it crawling all over him. He felt himself grow shy with it. He had never before felt weaker before someone, felt his own urges caving in towards another. Could this man be my match? Matt thought. For so long he had craved an equal, a proper dual between lovers. Someone who, while making love, he wasn't sure if he hated or adored. He wanted to lose, to be beaten, because he was bored with his own dominance.
Oh, to be sodomized by a man! To become a woman in his arms! To experience that petit mort! Could Justin fulfill these last remaining desires? He felt wicked, and a fondness for his own perversity in mutilated desires.
Matt looked up again to see if Justin was still watching him. He wasn't. Matt felt the absence immediately and grew sad, waiting for him to look back, to fight that glance again. Justin distracted himself with the frivolity of a group of girls sitting around him, laughing mindlessly. He is doing this on purpose, Matt thought. His abandon, his avoidance of Matt's stare was active, intentional. Matt thought he knew Justin's plan, to keep his desire incubating and nurture it through waiting, through anticipation. What a tease! Matt silently cried to himself. He loved it. I have found my twin! My opposite! My Second face! he thought. Surely two poles would cancel each other out, would kill them at the moment of coitus, that moment of doom. As cataclysmic as the big bang, erasing their existence at the very moment of their release. The ejaculate as a finitude, a last breath, a last paraoxysm. All else would be sucked out of them. Such a love was one of violence in its severity.
He was terrified. He was excited. Ignited.
Matt started scheming of ways to regain Justin's attention, to make him see. He had to. Justin had birthed a new impulse inside of him, an impulse towards death, in that he thought his love for Justin meant annihilation, and that it must be realized. He had fallen the moment he had become aware of Justin's existence, fallen into that haven of uncertainty, of trembling, at the dream one is not sure one could bear. It is too fantastic, made too unreal by the very possibility of its reality. He couldn't go back, he couldn't return. He was haunted now by the burden of knowing. How sweet this new awareness was, this pandora's box, how tempting, how fatal.
He felt his obsession crystalized within this man, this stranger, through the ambiguity of a glance.