Rating: All over NC-17, this part safe
Warnings: Smut, angst, romance, slash, and all that jazz
Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, but they are not. I wish this was true, but it is not. I wish I could make profit for having a pervy imagination, but, alas, I do not.
A/N: I am in a very angsty mood, so this story kind of wrote itself. It has been divided into chapters anyway.
Feedback: Yes please, the more the better.
I tried to tell him what stormed in my heart. Somehow the words just came out wrong, no matter how calculated they were. I tried to form understandable sentences from my emotions, but they came out as an accusation.
Never did I mean to accuse him; never did I intend to put the blame of how I felt on him. He chose not to understand this, not to even stay in the same room to listen so I could have explained that. He stormed off, closed the door, not only to the room but to me. He didn’t walk away from the situation, he walked away from me.
In my heart I know he chose this way. For him, it must be the easiest way out. For me, there is no easy way out. There is no way what so ever in the darkness he left me into. For me, he was the light, the warmth that made life bearable.
I fancied myself as a witty person, who never was lost for words. Today my tongue is numb and useless, I doubt it will ever work for anything else than to claim my love for him. My spirit is tamed, my flame has burned out. No amount of comforting can heal the wounds a simple sound the door lock clicking stroke to my soul.
The room is silent, even though it is filled with artificial noise just to keep me sane. I can hear him in this house, but I have no strength to go and find him. In time, he will leave, but even as he walks out of the door his presence stays here, lingering, tormenting me with ridicules of what used to be.
With him I wither, but without him I will surely cease to exist.
How did it come to this?