Summary: There is no way of convincing you that I am already living through the worst punishment of
all: the pain in your eyes.
Disclaimers: The characters aren't mine. I am just torturing them a bit.
Notes:Thank you so very much to cschoolgirl and jjblazer for the beta. Thanks to Devil Doll, and sorry
for the trouble I put you through.
You avoid his eyes, turn your gaze to the window. Gray dim lights mirror his look; cold cutting gusts of air
reflect your pain. The sound of the raindrops against the window, tirelessly interrupting the unbearable
silence, feels like a knife through your ears.
You've been talking for God knows how many hours, about love, about need, about shattered dreams.
About forgiveness and about guilt. There is no turning back, no starting over again. There is no way of
convincing him that you are already living through the worst punishment of all: the pain in his eyes.
He always said you'd end up with him. You always took it as a joke. You know now he truly believed it, and
you believe him when he said he knew you better than you knew yourself.
You don't know what happened. Claws, ice, and blue-scaled skin. You've gone through the story so many
times it's stopped making sense. He never bought it, and you're beginning to doubt it yourself.
How could you not see? You should've realized the ice wasn't cold enough; the claws had a dubious shine.
The real 'he' would have never been that cruel, telling you he didn't love you anymore - and the other one
never would have taken advantage of that.
You tell him again you didn't know. You hear the words yourself and they are nothing but a hollow truth.
It doesn't matter anymore. The damage is done.
You always thought you belonged together. Nothing felt as right as his hands on your face. You didn't
even feel the gloves when it was *his* skin underneath. You've always thought your mutations, your gifts,
complement each other. He gives and you take. But now you've taken from someone else.
There is no turning back. You've sealed your fate. You're still hoping he'll change his mind and allow you
to stay. But you keep waiting, and he doesn't.
You flinch as he moves, ever so slightly, stroking his hands together. You can almost see them itching to
get the claws out, as you know they are about the only things that give him the security he needs right
Suddenly you are torn between two choices, not even bothering to acknowledge that the choices are no
longer yours to make. You can do as he wishes and leave it all behind, or stay and face the fate of the
thin, sharp blades.
He's already used them once. You only wish he'd have used them then on you as well.