Dead End Love - Chapter Nine
Title: Dead End Love - Chapter Nine
Summary: The hardest part is trying to conquer the inner demons. (Post!Logos.)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG13? A little bit of violence...
Notes:
This isn't too awfully long, but I hope this satisfies everyone for
now. I've finally gotten past my writers block! Pete stopped banging
his head against the wall!
Notes #2: Petrick still claims her spot as First commenter... Brandie owns spot number two. ^_^
Dedications: To Petrick, my
glorious beta. To Brandie, my favorite PxP writer right now. To
_omnipotence who is now my wife ^_~ To Jubey and
to all you faithful readers, commenters and lurkers! I <3 you guys!
=D
“Don’t!”
My throat was sore. I had been screaming. I can’t remember why. I can’t
remember the essentials when and or why I do anything lately. I’m
always half awake, and I also seem to find bruises on my body that
shouldn’t be there when I was last awake. Always in the oddest places
and I never find them till I shower. But this time, I was more than
awake for the physical pain I acquired this morning.
“Stop it!”
It was a blur at first. I couldn’t place the noises. They seemed to be
a mix of mine and a mix of Patrick’s. But I couldn’t understand
anything. Not until my body shuddered in pain. A hard jab and a mesh of
hands with more words. I think I was pushing back. Things getting
really physical… Soon I felt blunt fingernails raking across my bare
skin. Digging in places as I jerked and smacked the hands away.
“Wake up Patrick!”
“DON’T YOU DIE ON ME!”
He was dreaming… I hated seeing him like this. He was so fragile and scared.
And violent…
There’s nothing darker than our existence in dreams. This empty void
where we seem to fall into every time our eyes closed. It’s so dark and
lonely. The truth in the subconscious scares me most. The kind of
nightmares that are real, or what could be real if I was awake. The
kind of nightmare that leaves me trembling like a scared little kid and
clinging to the closest piece of warm flesh that can comfort me. The
kind of comfort that tells me things will be all right. And for a
while, I can deceive myself until they come back with a vengeance.
His nightmares seemed to have gotten worse rather than improve. I kind
of half expected it now that he’d been to the doctor and the staples
had been taken out. But I didn’t think they’d jump this far back. Back
to where they were so bad I had to octopus myself around him to keep
him from injury.
And there it was. I felt the warm spread of water on my skin, around
the bite marks where Patrick’s teeth sunk into my arm. He was crying.
Ragged sobs muffled by the lips attached to my skin, the blunt teeth
trying to tear for blood. I really shouldn’t enjoy the sensation of the
pain he’s causing me. But this was real for me. It wasn’t a dream. It
was pure contact in our worse state.
But I understood in a weird way.
I don’t know how long we stayed that way. I didn’t move... Didn’t dare
to breathe… I didn’t say anything at all because I couldn’t tell if he
was awake or still in his nightmare. So I just sat there, wrapped
around him like a clingy girlfriend afraid to let go, otherwise he’ll
disappear.
My neck eventually couldn’t hold up my head so it fell forward, my chin
resting softly on his bare shoulder. The blood rushed in my head, and
my heartbeat just jumped to my ears. It thrummed so loud I couldn’t
hear myself breathing. I only felt his breath fall against my skin as
it came out his nose. There was a soft rattle in his chest, but it had
to have been the way we were positioned and his mouth strongly attached
to my arm.
And we stayed like that for a little while longer. Then I felt the jaw
slacken and the lips brush against the welt he left on my arm. But it
wasn’t until I looked from the corner of my eye that he had managed to
puncture deep enough for a taste of blood. Kind of masochistic of me to
think he enjoyed it, but maybe I’m only half wrong. The sting I felt as
the air touched my saliva stained skin reminded me that I was still
awake.
I heard a soft whisper of a sorry pass between his lips, which made me
relinquish my hold on him long enough for him to move. His hands rose
to rub his eyes like a child does when they just wake up. But he only
moved down so his head was back in my lap. His legs only half bent
because his knee’s still swollen from when they took out the staples.
My eyes shifted around the room to get a hint of the time as I tilted
my head back against the backboard. My neck hurt already, but I caught
the kind of breath taking glimpses you see in movies. The moonlight
pouring through the open shades, outlining the bodies on the bed.
Picture perfect in bed, him and I…
The blanket was missing, bunched up on the floor and it was freezing in
his room. I was cold, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. I don’t even
think he noticed the change in temperature. The warmth of his breath
rolling onto my thigh sent shivers down my back and suddenly I didn’t
feel so cold.
And I think I fell asleep. The kind where you dream just shallowly, but
you felt like you haven’t slept at all. It’s a restless dream really,
but enough to tell you that you were asleep. I can recall hearing the
words said again in my head and it tears at me a little bit. I lifted
my hand and rubbed my eyes as I stared up at the ceiling.
“For once in your god damn life can you stop being so fucking EMO for TEN FUCKING MINUTES!? No one fucking cares!”
Sometimes… it’s true. They don’t, but I do it anyways. I sometimes find
all the drama and the attention a way to get through rough times. It’s
easier than being alone with thoughts that fill my head late a night.
Thoughts that have no end and no answers to follow. Being highly EMO is
my way of distraction even though I know it doesn’t work. Nothing ever
works.
Except him…
Why? What have I done right in the world to earn him as a friend?
My neck twisted back down so my eyes could look over Patrick again. And he looks peaceful, even if he claims to be going bald.
I don’t deserve something that precious. He is the one thing I do
treasure more than anything else and I was afraid to admit that.
How they knew about it scared me. How they knew a lot about me… a lot about him too. How people who know that much about you, when you’ve never ever met them, until then.
I felt him shift against me, curled up like a little child in his
mother’s lap. A scared child, who can’t sleep alone at night because
the nightmares take control. Nightmares that are far scarier than the
closet monster or the monster beneath the bed. For us both, our
monsters consisted of a man and a woman who had almost murdered Patrick
and almost pushed me to commit suicide not long after three hours of
intense torture.
Andy once mentioned everyone carried demons inside. Ours seemed to be
the pick of the litter for the time being. I’ve never experienced
anything like this. Some insane kind of guilt because even though I was
awake, I couldn’t do a damn thing until I had taken that gun. A
helpless feeling where I know I can’t really take away all his
nightmares and replace them with something sweeter.
There’s just a gap between us and our demons. This horrible gap between
friends and strangers. And at the same time, we’re closer than ever.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
Chapter Five
Chapter Four
Chapter Three
Chapter Two
Chapter One
Summary: The hardest part is trying to conquer the inner demons. (Post!Logos.)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG13? A little bit of violence...
Notes:
This isn't too awfully long, but I hope this satisfies everyone for
now. I've finally gotten past my writers block! Pete stopped banging
his head against the wall!
Notes #2: Petrick still claims her spot as First commenter... Brandie owns spot number two. ^_^
Dedications: To Petrick, my
glorious beta. To Brandie, my favorite PxP writer right now. To
_omnipotence who is now my wife ^_~ To Jubey andto all you faithful readers, commenters and lurkers! I <3 you guys!
=D
“Don’t!”
My throat was sore. I had been screaming. I can’t remember why. I can’t
remember the essentials when and or why I do anything lately. I’m
always half awake, and I also seem to find bruises on my body that
shouldn’t be there when I was last awake. Always in the oddest places
and I never find them till I shower. But this time, I was more than
awake for the physical pain I acquired this morning.
“Stop it!”
It was a blur at first. I couldn’t place the noises. They seemed to be
a mix of mine and a mix of Patrick’s. But I couldn’t understand
anything. Not until my body shuddered in pain. A hard jab and a mesh of
hands with more words. I think I was pushing back. Things getting
really physical… Soon I felt blunt fingernails raking across my bare
skin. Digging in places as I jerked and smacked the hands away.
“Wake up Patrick!”
“DON’T YOU DIE ON ME!”
He was dreaming… I hated seeing him like this. He was so fragile and scared.
And violent…
There’s nothing darker than our existence in dreams. This empty void
where we seem to fall into every time our eyes closed. It’s so dark and
lonely. The truth in the subconscious scares me most. The kind of
nightmares that are real, or what could be real if I was awake. The
kind of nightmare that leaves me trembling like a scared little kid and
clinging to the closest piece of warm flesh that can comfort me. The
kind of comfort that tells me things will be all right. And for a
while, I can deceive myself until they come back with a vengeance.
His nightmares seemed to have gotten worse rather than improve. I kind
of half expected it now that he’d been to the doctor and the staples
had been taken out. But I didn’t think they’d jump this far back. Back
to where they were so bad I had to octopus myself around him to keep
him from injury.
And there it was. I felt the warm spread of water on my skin, around
the bite marks where Patrick’s teeth sunk into my arm. He was crying.
Ragged sobs muffled by the lips attached to my skin, the blunt teeth
trying to tear for blood. I really shouldn’t enjoy the sensation of the
pain he’s causing me. But this was real for me. It wasn’t a dream. It
was pure contact in our worse state.
But I understood in a weird way.
I don’t know how long we stayed that way. I didn’t move... Didn’t dare
to breathe… I didn’t say anything at all because I couldn’t tell if he
was awake or still in his nightmare. So I just sat there, wrapped
around him like a clingy girlfriend afraid to let go, otherwise he’ll
disappear.
My neck eventually couldn’t hold up my head so it fell forward, my chin
resting softly on his bare shoulder. The blood rushed in my head, and
my heartbeat just jumped to my ears. It thrummed so loud I couldn’t
hear myself breathing. I only felt his breath fall against my skin as
it came out his nose. There was a soft rattle in his chest, but it had
to have been the way we were positioned and his mouth strongly attached
to my arm.
And we stayed like that for a little while longer. Then I felt the jaw
slacken and the lips brush against the welt he left on my arm. But it
wasn’t until I looked from the corner of my eye that he had managed to
puncture deep enough for a taste of blood. Kind of masochistic of me to
think he enjoyed it, but maybe I’m only half wrong. The sting I felt as
the air touched my saliva stained skin reminded me that I was still
awake.
I heard a soft whisper of a sorry pass between his lips, which made me
relinquish my hold on him long enough for him to move. His hands rose
to rub his eyes like a child does when they just wake up. But he only
moved down so his head was back in my lap. His legs only half bent
because his knee’s still swollen from when they took out the staples.
My eyes shifted around the room to get a hint of the time as I tilted
my head back against the backboard. My neck hurt already, but I caught
the kind of breath taking glimpses you see in movies. The moonlight
pouring through the open shades, outlining the bodies on the bed.
Picture perfect in bed, him and I…
The blanket was missing, bunched up on the floor and it was freezing in
his room. I was cold, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. I don’t even
think he noticed the change in temperature. The warmth of his breath
rolling onto my thigh sent shivers down my back and suddenly I didn’t
feel so cold.
And I think I fell asleep. The kind where you dream just shallowly, but
you felt like you haven’t slept at all. It’s a restless dream really,
but enough to tell you that you were asleep. I can recall hearing the
words said again in my head and it tears at me a little bit. I lifted
my hand and rubbed my eyes as I stared up at the ceiling.
“For once in your god damn life can you stop being so fucking EMO for TEN FUCKING MINUTES!? No one fucking cares!”
Sometimes… it’s true. They don’t, but I do it anyways. I sometimes find
all the drama and the attention a way to get through rough times. It’s
easier than being alone with thoughts that fill my head late a night.
Thoughts that have no end and no answers to follow. Being highly EMO is
my way of distraction even though I know it doesn’t work. Nothing ever
works.
Except him…
Why? What have I done right in the world to earn him as a friend?
My neck twisted back down so my eyes could look over Patrick again. And he looks peaceful, even if he claims to be going bald.
I don’t deserve something that precious. He is the one thing I do
treasure more than anything else and I was afraid to admit that.
How they knew about it scared me. How they knew a lot about me… a lot about him too. How people who know that much about you, when you’ve never ever met them, until then.
I felt him shift against me, curled up like a little child in his
mother’s lap. A scared child, who can’t sleep alone at night because
the nightmares take control. Nightmares that are far scarier than the
closet monster or the monster beneath the bed. For us both, our
monsters consisted of a man and a woman who had almost murdered Patrick
and almost pushed me to commit suicide not long after three hours of
intense torture.
Andy once mentioned everyone carried demons inside. Ours seemed to be
the pick of the litter for the time being. I’ve never experienced
anything like this. Some insane kind of guilt because even though I was
awake, I couldn’t do a damn thing until I had taken that gun. A
helpless feeling where I know I can’t really take away all his
nightmares and replace them with something sweeter.
There’s just a gap between us and our demons. This horrible gap between
friends and strangers. And at the same time, we’re closer than ever.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
Chapter Five
Chapter Four
Chapter Three
Chapter Two
Chapter One