Title: Moth to a Snowflake.
Series: X-Men movie-verse.
Pairings: John+Bobby
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: Hate, hate, hate... and sex. And a bit of fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I just play with it.
Summary: John is hating his new roomie. Or... well... (Based mostly on the movie universe. Timeline is somewhere prior to the movies. Note: “---” is speech. [---] is thought.)
Moth to a Snowflake.
God I was bored. I hated the danger room training. Not for the training itself. No. For the goddamn waiting. Always waiting. Waiting for the simulations to load, for people getting into uniforms, for newbies to be tested, for tactics to be discussed. After the first few times I simply gave up even trying to pay attention. Instead I settled for spinning my lighter around in my pocket endless times while dreaming of my next cigarette.
When we were finally allowed to begin, I'd just let my fire explode with full force, often damaging the danger room, but just as often defeating the damn simulation in about five minutes. The others would usually be pissed at me, but I seriously couldn't care less. I didn't need all their crap. I didn't need them.
This particular day we had been waiting for ages and ages. I was just about to walk out and let the others grow old waiting, when we were finally allowed in. Turns out this new guy had arrived and he had been tested before we started. I didn't listen to the tactics as usual, so I didn't catch what the guy's power was. Not that I cared much either.
Somehow my eyes drifted to the new guy while Scott droned on about the simulation. He was just a little taller than I was, a good deal more naturally muscular than me and when he looked at me I was shocked to find that his eyes were a piercingly, glowing blue. Even with his mousy hair, neutral features and too-damn-friendly air he had me fascinated. We were finally allowed in but I couldn't care less about the damn simulation. My eyes were glued to the blue eyed hunk.
And then I saw what his power was. In an instant his body glazed over with crisp blue ice the same color as his eyes and the temperature around him dropped immediately to a chill. He looked absolutely other worldly, and considering how many other weird looking mutants I knew, that was saying a lot. He turned back and looked at me with those icy eyes and I was totally gone in the beauty of this person. Completely forgetting that we were supposed to fight, I was knocked out cold in an instant and woke up a few hours later on a table in the infirmary.
Jean looked me over and pronounced me good as new, although I now sported an all to painful bump on my forehead. As soon as I was allowed to go, I slouched back to my room while smoking. My head hurt and at that moment I needed my nicotine enough to not care at all if any of the old farts would come along and catch me smoking in the mansion.
When I reached my room, I stiffened when I saw that my door was ajar. I was already pretty grumpy but the thought that some prick thought he could just barge into my room made me absolutely blazing with anger. I flicked on my lighter and was already rolling a growing orb of fire between my fingers when I heard movement from inside the room.
I kicked open the door and presented the intruder with one of my biggest fire displays, hoping to scare him shit-less with my flaming formations, blossoming out fiends and dragons in the roaring rings of fire swirling around me. Lying in the normally unoccupied bed on the other side of my room was none other than the icy beauty from before. When the door crashed open he sat up from his relaxed state with his arms behind his head, and looked at me with a startled expression in his mesmerising eyes.
I almost forgot why I was putting on the show and felt my grasp on the flames slowly die out. But as surprised as I was to see the hottest ice-cube on earth in my room, I hadn't forgotten my anger at the invasion of my privacy.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?!”
He blinked at my snarling, slowly put his feet on the floor and sat up straight looking at me. His voice was a velvety smooth tenor when he spoke to me.
“Didn't they tell you? I'm your new roommate.”
My jaw dropped and I just stared at him in desperate disbelief.
[No. Life couldn't be that cruel...]
After a few moments of shocked silence, my gorgeous roommate stood up and slowly made his way to the door, reaching out his hand towards me.
“Name's Bobby Drake. Nice to meet you.”
I didn't take his hand. I didn't trust myself to touch him. Instead I glared at him with as much hostility as I could muster. I could not get close to him. I just couldn't. I knew if I did I'd be doomed.
After a while he let his hand drop and seemed to take the hint that I refused to greet him. He smiled at me in a way that made me seethe with anger again. It was the kind of smile that meant to be understanding and patient. I hated that. Only goodie goodies and naïve, romantic morons give anyone that kind of smile. He flopped down onto the bed, slipped on a pair of headphones and resumed his relaxed position, leaving me still smoldering in the doorway.
When I realized he had decided to ignore me, I kicked the door closed behind me and sent him a last seething look, before heading for my own bed. My general mess from the other side of the room had been dumped unceremoniously on my bed (by Scott no doubt), and I simply shook my bedspread, making all the crap fly out onto the floor again, before roughly dropping down on it without removing my filthy boots.
The whole situation was ridiculous. We spent more than three hours in the room in tense silence, daring each other to break it. I opened and closed my lighter a billion times as I always do when I need to do something with my fingers, but it never seemed to bother him unlike everybody else. I hated him for being so at ease with himself and his surroundings, and as much as I hated that too, he was already under my skin. When the bell rang for dinner, he got up and left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone at last, cursing myself for my terribly bad luck.
-----------
He was the perfect roommate. Always tidy and unobtrusive. Clean and friendly. God I hated it. In my head I begged for some higher power to make him a prick. To give me a good solid reason to hate him like I did most other people. I did my best to piss him off, going out of my way to annoy him as much as possible, hoping against hope that I could drive him away and make him ask for a new roommate. In the end it just made me hate him even more that he never got upset. If I got in his face, he just gave me his usual patient smile and ignored me. He was driving me nuts!
And most of all, I hated the fact that I was falling hard for him. I fought desperately against it, but I had lost the battle at the first second. I really really liked him. Even though I had never opened my mouth without insulting him, I soon came to consider him my only friend. He was always there. And he never even got angry with me. He accepted me, even when I was several times more annoying than I had to be, he just smiled at me and simply stayed around. God I hated him.
And then something happened that made my hatred peak to new heights. I had a nightmare. One of those hellish nightmares that forces you to relive the worst times of your life in frightening detail, and you're unable to wake up, even though you know what's coming. Just when I was screaming my lungs out in terror at the scenes unfolding before my inner eyes, I was awakened by a cool hand on my forehead. I realized to my horror that I had screamed out loud and that the hand was Bobby's.
[No. No please. Don't let it be true. Don't let him see my fear.]
But it was far too late. His mellow voice mumbled soothing things to me in the darkness, making it all too clear to me that my only weakness was now fully exposed to him. I had unwillingly let my guard down in my sleep and I felt positively naked, letting him see a sliver of my feelings, before I managed to lock them down again. I smacked his hand away and yelled at him.
“Fuck off! Leave me alone!”
To my distress I felt tears on my face and turned away from him angrily. I could feel his eyes on my back as he just stood there in the darkness. It felt like ages before he finally went back to his own bed. How I hated him for seeing me like this. Hated, hated, hated him. The next morning he even dared asking me if I was ok. I shot an enormous fireball at his bed, hoping to force him to loathe me by reducing it to ash. To my complete anguish, he simply froze my fireball with lightning reflexes, making it die out in an instant.
How I hated him. Hated him, hated him, hated him. He made me go completely out of my mind, and though I was already considered something of an ass by most people, my hatred of my roommate made me lash out and break rules more than ever. I completely refused to enter the danger room with him ever again, to avoid the sight of his beautiful icy armor that made my head spin and was very nearly kicked out of the school for it. But Bobby came to my defense and somehow persuaded Scott to let me stay. Why he would even do that for me was completely beyond me and it only served to make me try even harder to piss him off.
Months passed and even for a prick like myself, it was getting exhausting to keep up a constant flow of mayhem and chaos to keep myself at war with a pacifist. So eventually I let it fade out. I wouldn't say I gave up, but I refused to waste all my energy on a lost cause anymore. Instead I ignored Bobby with all my might. But my mind refused to follow suit, and when I wasn't having nightmares, I was having equally disturbing dreams about him. Even when I was awake, I would catch myself daydreaming about him, loathing both him and myself intensely every time.
But worst of all, I let myself get used to him. I woke up every morning to his harmonic humming and watched him do his stomach crunches while I pretended to still be asleep. Every night after dinner he would study while listening to his soppy pop music in his headphones, while I played with my lighter and practised making new figures with the flames. Every night before bedtime he would read and wish me goodnight even though I never answered.
On the weekends he would get up annoyingly early, but always managed to leave the room so quietly I never woke up and had a chance to yell at him for it or anything. And I missed him. I hated both myself and him for it, but as soon as he wasn't there, the room was suddenly a very uncomfortable place.
-----------
And then he just had to go and get himself hurt. In a totally non-mutant kind of way no less. He got appendicitis without realizing it and was overwhelmed by by a lurch of pain, just as he was crossing a road on his way back to the mansion after a Sunday game of basketball with some kids from school. Some crazy guy in his car clipped him by the curb while he was doubled up from pain, and he was hit in the head, causing him to pass out and collaps in the tall grass on the side of the road.
When I accidentally overheard some kids say he hadn't been seen for hours, I went crazy from worry, and stormed out to find him. I asked around and backtracked his movements, until I almost fell over him not half a mile from the mansion. He was breathing, but looked awful and I wouldn't risk leaving him. So I sent up and enormous wreath of flame into the air, and as I expected someone at the mansion spotted it and help arrived soon.
While waiting for help to arrive I sat by him, feeling numb with terror at the thought that he might not wake up again. What would I do then? I felt cold inside at the thought of returning to the room, knowing he wouldn't be there. And if he never came back... I clung to every beat of his heart, as I held his wrist, feeling for it again and again.
My mind kept replaying the same line over and over again. I tried to block it out, but to no avail. I heard it ringing through my soul for hours on end..
[You never even had the balls to kiss him. You never even had the balls to kiss him. You never even had the balls to kiss him...]
When he was taken to the hospital I just stood where I had found him, looking at the spot where he had lain, feeling unable to move. I felt like an idiot. I thought back to all the times I could have touched him. All the times I could have talked to him. Could have been with him. Could have... kissed him. I cursed life for treating me so cruelly, and then cursed myself for letting perfectly good opportunities slip through my fingers. I knew I couldn't change my hatred of the world and everyone in it overnight, but I decided then and there to make a damn good effort. For his sake. And it started right there.
I did it. I finally admitted to myself that all my carefully maintained hatred towards him was a really bad cover-up for the fact that I loved him. Deeply, truly, madly. And like any old, soppy love story, I had to come close to losing him all together, before life kicked me hard enough in the ass to make me realize how dear he was to me.
After a sleepless night, I was allowed to go visit him. Scott was mercifully neutral when I asked permission (unusually politely of me I might add) to go visit Bobby during school hours. No comments about my sudden concern. Just a nod. [Thank God]. At the hospital I was told what had happened to him, that he was awake and alert, but that I was to keep my visit short and quiet. I didn't even argue. I just needed to see him again so badly that I'd do anything.
When I stepped into his room, he looked like he was asleep, and I stood for a few minutes in the doorway just watching him and clinging to the view of his chest moving steadily up and down. There were other beds in the room, but they were empty, so I quietly moved in and sat myself down on the bed next to him. It creaked and his eyes opened slowly, to reveal the startling blue color I loved so much.
“I knew it. I knew you'd come.”
His voice cracked and I had no idea how to reply. I just sat there spinning my lighter and looked down at my hands, unable to meet his sleepy gaze. He swallowed and licked his lips.
“God I'm so thirsty. The painkillers they keep pumping into me makes my mouth go dry as cardboard.”
I didn't even answer, I just poured him a glass of water from the stand next to his bed, and helped him sip some of it through a straw. As his head fell back onto the pillow, he sighed and his eyes slid closed. I felt numb again and was hit with an overwhelming need to touch him. To convince myself that he was still there and alive. I swallowed a lump the size of a football and finally gathered the courage to just reach out and take his hand laying limply by his side.
His eyes flew open and he looked at me with an expression not unlike the one he'd had when I'd tried to scare him with my fire-display that first day. I was terrified he would laugh or shake me off. But I was absolutely stunned with shock when he simply smiled, squeezed my hand and closed his eyes again with an even deeper sigh.
I stayed by his side, holding his hand for the rest of the visiting hours and I didn't even care that a nurse saw me holding his hand, when she came to ask me to say goodbye. I couldn't speak. I was unable to even say goodbye to him. When I finally forced myself to let go of his hand, he simply looked at me and whispered:
“I'll be home soon.”
I felt my throat constrict and just nodded before turning around and leaving him. [Home]. That's what it was. That thing that made our room comfortable when he was there. It was home when he was in it. I had never felt at home anywhere before I knew him. Maybe it's true what they say. You know that stupid old saying: 'home is where the heart is'. I always thought it was a load of crap, but at that moment, some of the truth in it hit me.
-----------
I managed to drag myself through the following day without him, though I avoided our room as much as possible. I just couldn't face the emptiness. I was beside myself with a mixture of worry and joy when I saw him from an upper window entering the mansion grounds through the main gate a while after dinner. I raced back to our room, just in time to see him unlock the door and drag himself inside. Unable to contain my happiness that he was back, I banged open the door, only to realize that he had been leaning against it and was now splayed on the floor, clutching his stitches and groaning with pain.
I was terrified when I saw what I'd done and fell to my knees beside him, gibbering madly with apologies.
“Oh shit! Bobby! Oh no, I'm so sorry! Are you ok? Please tell me you're ok!”
I cradled his face in my hands and stroked his forehead gently until his pained expression faded and he opened his eyes. He didn't speak, just looked at me with a serious gaze that was very unusual for him. I was worried sick.
“Please Bobby, please. Tell me you're ok!”
After a long look and a few deep breaths, he laid his hand on top of mine on his cheek.
“I am now. “
It was like time stopped and we saw each other really for the first time. His eyes shone into mine and I stopped breathing for a while, lost in the exquisite feeling of his cool hand on mine and his loving gaze. How could he look at me like that? After all I'd done to him? I was lost in wonder but my aching heart reached out for him so intensely I could have screamed from it.
I woke up to reality when he shifted ever so slightly. It made me realize he was lying on a cold hard floor, when he should be in a warm bed recovering from his stitches and concussion. I gently helped him up from the floor and onto his bed. I closed the door to our room and pulled the curtains shut, while he undressed. Then I tucked him in and pulled a chair to his bedside. After what I'd just done to him, I wanted to make absolutely sure he was alright.
I sat there with him for a while, flicking on my lighter and shutting the lid over it repeatedly. As usual when I was in our room doing nothing, I started playing with the fire between my fingers. I saw him looking at me and found myself making beautiful patterns and shapes for him. Flaming hearts and ribbons danced around my fingertips. Burning roses and birds blossomed out of my palms. Fiery wolves and horses raced from my one hand to the other. Seeing the dreamy look in his eyes was worth it all and with massive concentration, I conjured a tiny elegant ballet dancer, twirling and swaying from the tip of my lighter, without even touching the fire.
When the ballet dancer slowly formed back into the small natural flame the lighter produced, he looked at me with so much love in his eyes, that I had to look down to stop myself from crying.
“God, that was beautiful John.”
I couldn't help but smile at my feet. Somehow my voice abandoned me whenever he spoke to me, so I just settled for looking at him from time to time, while he slowly drifted into sleep. After sitting in the darkness for ages just listening to his steady breathing, I finally drifted over to my own bed. I fell asleep in seconds and for once I didn't dream. I just slept.
------
I woke up in the early hours of the morning not quite sure what had awakened me. I listened for Bobby's steady breathing, but instead I heard a soft hiss and a chattering breath. I was by his bedside in a flash. He had hugged the covers tightly around him, but was obviously still cold. I was seriously worried, as he usually never seemed to feel cold. He was Iceman after all. I put my hand on his shoulder and found that he was awake when he glanced up at me from his curled up position. My worry must have shown on my face in the early morning light, because he smiled at me in a soothing kinda way.
“It's ok. I'm just a little worn out. Is it always this cold in here?”
I felt his forehead to make sure he wasn't running a fever or anything, but he was cool as always.
“Yeah, but you never seem to feel it.”
He chattered his teeth again and I felt my stomach clench for him in his discomfort. But I also knew that as cold as he was, I was equally warm. I suppose it had something to do with our mutations, but right now he was obviously weakened enough for his natural defenses to be down. I ached inwardly every time he exhaled another chattering breath and I finally made up my mind.
“Move over.”
He looked at me like I'd smacked him in the face, when I lifted his covers carefully, not to let too much warmth escape from them as I crawled in. But he scooted over enough for me to squeeze myself in behind him and with a shuddering sigh he settled against me soaking up the warmth I offered. He was so cold I did wonder for a second if he had accidentally activated his power and iced himself over, but then I felt him slowly warm up at the touch of our naked torsos. I rubbed his arms and shoulders carefully to heat them and covered as much of his body as I could with my own.
Eventually I simply draped my arm over him and pulled him close to me, letting myself enjoy the feeling of our closeness. He took my hand and intertwined our fingers, before he drifted off to sleep again, leaving me awake a while longer, bursting with happiness.
A few hours later I woke up. I was supposed to have been to class, but I didn't care. I could have cried when I realized I was alone in Bobby's bed, but I felt life made it up to me when I turned over and saw him. He was standing in front of the mirror, checking the bruise on his forehead and flexing his muscles carefully to avoid stretching his stitches. He had opened the curtains and the morning sun was putting on quite a show for me, caressing the muscles on his back and legs as he flexed and moved. I just lay there holding my breath, enjoying the view immensely.
He was just so beautiful. And then he turned around and smiled tenderly when he saw that I was awake.
“Good morning.”
As usual I didn't answer. I simply moved over a bit in the bed and opened the covers, praying that he would accept my open invitation. He did. I shivered with a mix of pleasure and chill when he slipped his cool body in beside me. He was clearly comfortable in the cold again, so I was now convinced he would be ok. Unlike the night before, we were now face to face. His eyes burned into mine with an intensity that made my heart skip and I gasped when I finally remembered to breathe again.
His arms were around my neck and my mind was reeling with the pleasure of his touch. And then I remembered how close I came to losing him, and my stomach turned to led. His face was so close to mine and his breath was warm to my surprise. In my head the chant began again.
[You never even had the balls to kiss him...]
[You bet your ass I do....] Throwing all caution to the winds I grabbed his face with both hands and dove into a desperate open mouthed kiss, putting all my fears and passions in his hands, while attempting to melt as much of him as possible and absorb it into myself. I was so sure he would push me away now and I would damn well build up a reserve of the touch, taste and scent of him for the lonely days I knew were coming.
But he only stiffened for a fraction of a second. And then he was all over me. The quiet, relaxed and cool guy was gone and he went mad, kissing me so fervently our teeth bumped. I clutched his face to mine, feeling his hands in my hair while my head kept spinning from the heavenly sensations I was experiencing.
It all turned to panic however, when he pressed himself against me, only to grind his stitches right into my hip. He cried out from the pain, and I jumped off the bed from the horror of being the cause of it. I stood there next to his bed, my skin still tingling with pleasure from his touch, wringing my hands and watching him gasp and heave. When the pain passed he smiled at me with a regretful look.
“I guess we'll have to hold out for a few more days...”
I couldn't help laughing and he grinned back at me. I was very excited, but also nicotine deprived, so I hopped into some clothes and left the room for a smoke. He watched me go and I winked at him when I closed the door. It was the closest thing to a greeting I had to offer.
The following days were a blur of suppressed lust and tension between us. We avoided physical contact as much as possible, as we both seemed to be easily swept away by our mutual attraction and more than once caused him pain by accidental touches. But I did my best to keep my promise to myself though. I made an effort to involve myself and do as I was told. Scott almost made me puke when he commented how glad he was to see I was finally showing some responsibility. I just nodded and waited until he was out of sight, before making a very rude gesture in his general direction.
I wasn't doing it for Scott. Or for the school or even for myself. It was all for my hot ice-cube, and to make myself feel worthy of his affection. I even tried cleaning up my side of the room a bit, but I gave up half way through and was just about to burn all my crap right then and there, when Bobby laughed heartily at my feeble attempt at tidiness and hugged me close to him. When he whispered in my ear that he didn't give a damn how the room looked as long as I was in it, I had a minor melt down and completely lost control over my passion. I pounced him and was in heaven for a few glorious moments, before we yet again bumped hips and caused him pain.
-------
The following Friday I was slowly killing myself by trying to do some homework, when I heard the door open and close very quietly behind me. I had lit two candles in front of me on my desk to have a bit of fire to distract myself with, as I was twirling a pencil instead of my lighter between my fingers. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard the door, but the candles betrayed me and flickered wildly while I sat stock still, waiting.
As I had hoped, I soon felt cool hands slide down my shoulder and under my arm in a tender embrace and I let myself fall back into him and enjoy the moment. His voice in my ear made me shiver and it took me a second to actually catch on to the meaning of the words he had whispered.
“I've just seen my doctor, and he says I'm fit to start exercising again. So...”
As usual I was unable to answer, but the candle-flames dancing in front of us told him clearly what I wanted. Without me ever really focusing on it, the flames formed two separate shapes, slowly turning to each other. The flames reached out for each other and easily closed the space between the candles to meet in a fiery, passionate embrace. His cool lips made my hot skin prickle when he placed gentle kisses on my neck and ear. It was so sweet and gentle it was driving me insane, and I sent my books flying when I couldn't take it anymore, jumped up and grabbed him desperately.
He gave up any plans he might have had of going slow when faced with my frantic desire and he returned my intense caresses with equal eagerness. I pressed myself as hard against him as I dared, and was rewarded with a moan from him and a slow grinding from his groin. My mind went completely blank from lust and in a frenzy I tore off his clothes and my own, while nudging him to his bed.
I had expected to be the one taking the initiative and seducing him, but to my surprise he turned us around at the last moment, making me fall back on the bed with him on top. I tried feebly to get on top again, but he was easily as desperate as I was, and wouldn't let me. Somewhere along the way I forgot all about it and I whimpered out my surrender before long. I felt every drop of my sweat turn to ice when coming into contact with his skin and I constantly had cold water trickling from my chest onto the bed, when my warmer skin made the beads of ice melt again. The feeling was awesome and I alternated between shivering and gasping from the extreme temperatures switching between us.
With his cold lips and hands inducing pleasure all over my body, I had no chance of holding on to my already crumbling defenses, and to my slight embarrassment I was soon the one begging for relief. I think I blacked out a few times and the whole experience seemed like precious flashes of heaven.
[Flash.]
His hands on my chest. His lips over my nipple. My hands in his hair.
[Flash.]
His chilled breath in my ear. His warm tongue on my neck. His hardness against my own.
[Flash.]
His hands on my ass. His mouth on my cock. My voice hoarse from moaning.
[Flash.]
His fingers in me. His tongue on my hip. My breathing loud and desperate. Begging him to take me.
[Flash.]
Shockingly hot he pushed into me, the pain melding with the pleasure, making me clench my teeth to avoid screaming out my carnal joy. He closed my mouth with his own while taking me roughly and I felt the last threads of my locked down emotions give in, as he claimed me as his and growled out his climax into my mouth. I felt like something imploded violently in my head and I was only too happy to slip into darkness, still riding the wave of ultimate happiness.
It might have lasted hours or just a few seconds, but when I finally started my slow ascent into consciousness again, I was thinking to myself:
“Kill me now. I can't possibly feel more happiness than this in my whole miserable existence, so someone... please... kill me now.”
I heard a sharp gasp, felt cool hands cradling my face and when I opened my eyes, I was met with Bobby's loving eyes, filling with tears. [Oh no. I hadn't said it out loud, had I?]
I had.
“Don't ever say that again John. Never, ever say that again. Don't you dare.”
His voice cracked and the tears slid slowly down his cheeks, freezing on the way. I tried to save the situation.
“I didn't mean it. Honestly I didn't Bobby.”
But he knew me too well. He saw right through me and my pathetic lie.
“Bullshit. After all I've put up with while waiting for you to come around and see how much I care, this is what I get? When I finally make you mine, you want to throw it all away?”
Now tears were in my eyes as well. I couldn't stop them. I hated every one of them, but they kept coming. I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid his wounded look.
“I know. I'm a pathetic excuse for a human being. Why would you even want me? What can I possibly offer you with my twisted upbringing and warped ideas of love?”
Bobby caressed my face so gently I felt like I was slowly breaking apart at the seams. He was still inside me and I felt every beat of his heart in my most sensitive of places. It was simply too much and I weeped like a child at the intensity of the whole thing.
“Don't offer me anything John. I already have what I want, and I took it cruelly without even asking if you wanted me. I've been doing everything I possibly could to steal away your heart, while you were busy hating me and the world. I had even given up. I thought I could never get through to you, but then you showed up at the hospital. Then I knew. I knew you were mine. “
I couldn't take it. Those gentle words were slowly killing me.
“Stop. No more. Please don't say any more Bobby.”
I turned my face away from him and wept into the pillow. He took firm hold of my face and forced me to look at him.
“No, I wont stop. I'll never stop. And you know why.”
I begged him.
“No. Don't. Please don't say it. I can't bear it.”
But life is cruel. And he had to say it. He forced me to look him in the eye, bent in so close his lips were brushing mine and whispered out the words I knew would kill me.
“Because I love you.”
And then he kissed me. I cried. I screamed. I writhed under him, begging him to let me go, to leave me, to kill me. Anything to stop that terrible ache in my soul. My whole body cramped and spasmed while I battled myself inwardly. All my hate and anger was searing holes in my heart, desperately trying to force itself together and believe the words edging themselves into my being. A thousand voices were screaming in my head, all trying to dominate my thoughts.
[He loves you. He hates you. How could he not? You don't deserve love. You're a horrible person. But he loves you. No he doesn't. It's just words. Yes, but believe them. No. Don't. You know you can't. Nobody can ever love you, and you know it. Why would he? No idea, but he says he does. He does. He does. He does.]
And then the darkness again. That blessed darkness. Would it only have lasted forever.
[Bobby. My Bobby. How I love you. But you kill me. I must be dead. My heart has broken from the strain. Not that it has ever been whole.]
[Bobby. Bobby why do you love me? Why? Why?]
“Why?”
The last word forced itself out into the room. My soul suddenly stopped, waiting for the answer. My heart stirred feebly, standing by for the one thing that could possibly mend it.
A while must have passed. The room was dark, and Bobby was now behind me, hugging me close to him with his strong arms. He stirred and his voice was slightly slurred from sleep.
“Why what?”
I swallowed. My heart was still. My soul quiet as a tomb.
“Why do you love me?”
The quiet in the room was so thick I felt it suffocating me, until he spoke.
“Because... I do. My heart won't let me not love you.”
I grimaced into the dark room.
“But I'll hurt you. I always hurt people.”
I felt him shift and turn me over on my back. His eyes shone in the faint light from the moon.
“Then hurt me. I don't care. Break my heart, set it on fire and stomp on it. I don't care. I'll take what you can give me. I can't help it.”
I felt my heart beat again. As painful and unused to the sensation as it was, I grasped every heartbeat like the link to my life it was. One beat. Two beats. Pain. Another beat. And another.
I sighed deeply, exhausted, but feeling safe and relaxed in the arms of my lover. Feeling myself slipping off to sleep, emotionally exhausted, with no way of stopping it, I forced out the thing I most wanted to say, right before the darkness embraced me again gently as a mother.
“I love you Bobby.”
End.