`Shadows Of The Past

Author: Kittycat_2312

Disclaimer: I only own the noted OC's here. You will know them when you see them.

Rating: T (maybe some indications of M but mostly T, so quiet! :D)

It was simple.

In the end, our relationship was so simple.

We needed each other out of exactly that: need.

Need to not be alone. Need to be thought of. Need to be needed.

It never occurred to either of us to state it to the world; it remained hidden from even those closest to us. It added to our intoxication and intrigue. We were 'friends', if you could even call us that, in the daylight. But at night everything changed… it always did.

After a while, we both could never comprehend exactly what had happened between us, we would just find ourselves thrown at each other, locked together in our own need and silence. And then one day… he was all I could think about. He governed my every waking moment.

My thoughts. My actions. My emotions… Everything. They were all his… and he knew it.

A lone silent man condemned in a boy's body, creeping into my skin. This man, who could not be near the same girl twice without irritation, drove me insane. He was a playboy that cared for no one but himself. The girls loved and hated him; and all were powerless against his charms. One smirk and touch and they would have let him use their bodies as a raft up a raging rapid if he asked, never uttering a word of complaint to him. His eyes were cold and dead as he caressed the love-struck girls of our school, students and teachers alike. He collected their hearts and returned them broken, absolutely indifferent to all their cries and tears.

I was like the rest of them, but I never gave him the satisfaction of knowing that. If he ever happened to look my way, my haughty and stony apparel would turn him away to another girl.

It killed me each time.

I dealt with his uncaring attitude for a time, because I knew what would happen. I knew, that if I were to ever get involved with him, it would come to no good. I believed that he would never love me because he was incapable of loving anyone, let alone someone like me. I knew he would end up hurting me… one way or another.

But… he wanted me… he wanted more than just my body…

He wanted me.

In the nights where I could never seem to fall asleep I found myself reaching out for him, and he was always right there waiting for me. He would protect me from myself, and in return, I gave myself willingly and without restraint to help him ease his own pain.

I never complained. How could I? I was hooked.

If anything… I enjoyed it. I felt useful; I found a purpose for my existence again.

We would silently be there for each other, never saying anything. We never had a need to. We knew that in some twisted way, we could not stay away from each other. We were bound to each other… body, heart and soul.

That was enough.

It was enough to feel needed by someone. It was enough to feel something.

We went on for three years without saying what the other already knew. That too, was enough. That is why in the end… our relationship was so simple.

We fell in love with each other.

Our love was based entirely on our need to be needed by someone. It brought and tied us together in an unbreakable chain of desire, burning brighter and stronger with every moment. It developed and grew like a sappling reaching for the sun, and before I knew it, we couldn't stay away from each other anymore. Wherever he was I went, and wherever I was he came.

We both lived in his manor, so it was never difficult to come up with an excuse to stay together with no one ever finding out the real reason why. We attended the same school, we were in the same grade, and we had all the same classes. Everything seemed to work out to our benefit. Some would even say that it was fate. It was our fate to be thrown together and tied down to one another. For a while, I never questioned that. I never needed to. I never wanted too.

Eventually, it grew to a point where we both never needed anything more than to know that the other was there. It was our one sole comfort. We were each other's only comfort. It was almost sickening how we could not be separated. Sickening how we could read each other's thoughts before we even thought it. It would have drove near anyone mad.

But not us, we loved it.

We loved every moment of it.

We loved every moment we were together. At least… I did.

I loved that look in his eyes when he saw me; the thrill I felt when we were alone together. In the end, that was the only thing that kept me going back and my motivation for a tomorrow: him. I loved feeling that electrifying shock that would seer through my entire body as his arms wrapped around my waist while I was walking around by myself. That intense shock that would run through my veins as he pulled me closer towards him, allowing me to feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck. I loved everything about him. I could not get enough, of any of it. I didn't want to ever have enough of him. So from love, he became my addiction, my own personal form of intoxication. My obsession.

He never objected.

He needed me too, I fooled myself into believing he loved me too. I could see the desperation in his eyes whenever I looked at a door and thought of leaving him, or the jealousy and insecurity that inflamed him whenever I looked and smiled at someone else. I loved hearing that low growl whenever another man touched me, and watching his eyes narrow threateningly when I touch another guy. It reminded me of how much he needed me. He needed me to stay with him. When I lived in some sense of freedom, or a life without him there, he pulled me back down to join him in the chains of our unbearable grief and our need for a form of salvation. He needed me by his side. He needed to know and see that I needed him. He needed me more than I ever needed him.

Even when I realized all this later, against all reason, I stayed with him. How could I leave?

To move on and see the sun would be to leave him alone in that pit of despair. I could never bring myself to leave his side, even for a chance at my own happiness and liberty. But I could not imagine being happy without him. I could not imagine laughing, smiling or even living, without him next to me. So I stayed. We stayed together in our need for each other, the chains tightened with each futile attempt I took to break free. But we were drawn together even without it, attracted to each other like magnets by our own misery and solitude.

In the end, did I ever have a chance to live, if living was without him? Did I ever have a chance to forget and move forward? Did I have a chance to stop loving him? Did I…?

… Do I?