And I Know

~ 15.8.13~

And I know. I know it and I hate myself for it. I know I've fallen uselessly in love and I know so long as I am here I will never get over you, you and your skin and your cheekbones and your wild, dark hair and your eyes that blaze like a hurricane, and I know that wanting you is like waiting for rain in the Middle Eastern desert, and I know it's going to end horrifically and and I know I'm tearing myself apart and I know how utterly useless, how inevitable it is.

And the days fly by in shades of danger and domesticity, passion and peace, and I pretend It's all fine and I carry my heart in my hands, just waiting to trip and watch it shatter. Ever since you and your Afghanistan or Iraq it was always going to end in a million jagged pieces; I know I am going to walk away heartless and irreversibly broken.

And yet.

With all this foreknowledge, I am still not prepared when the day dawns at last.

It's for a case. Of course it's for a case; I knew the work was going to be the death of us, of me and my love for you. We have to be a couple, you say. We have to hold hands, you say, and my organs flutter. We have to kiss, you say, and suddenly my mouth is full of you.

It hurts. Our kiss hurts. Our kiss is sloppy and awkward and ill-timed and impulsive and clumsy and I like it. Our teeth crash and I like it. Our tongues don't dance, they stumble around each other and I like it. I touch my hand at the nape of your neck and I sigh into your velvet mouth and I deepen the kiss and it's perfect and I love it, I love you.

And then suddenly you're pulling away and your eyes are wide and frightened and I realize it was only me, only me and my love for you. You stare as though you can vividly see the both of us, naked and raw, and we feel ugly and misshapen under your gaze. It is all crashing down and I can't do this, I can't do this I whisper and escape from the suffocating room.

My feet alone carry me back to Baker Street. My brain is otherwise occupied, with its white-hot panic and crashing and burning and melting and dear God what have I done what have I done. Twice I stagger into the street against the light and twice I almost crumple against the front of a car and twice I consider if that instant outcome might not be better than my fate of watching, of feeling you fade from my life.

Suddenly I'm in my bedroom and I'm pulling out my dusty suitcase and I'm throwing indiscriminate pieces of my ramshackle life into it, and I wonder what I'm doing and where I'm going and why I am leaving the best thing I've ever known but I know it'll hurt far too much to linger. The lesser of two evils, I think, and why does it seem like that is always my choice? A lonely doctor over a lonely man. A dying soldier over a dying citizen. A disposable friend over a disposable person.

My fingers grasp the suitcase handle and I don't even know what I put in it and I check my pockets for my wallet only to find my keys and your mobile. My shoulders won't stop shaking as I put them both on your desk, and the sound they make, clattering against the scratched wood, it seems too final and it's horrifying and suddenly I know that this is the end. This is the inevitable tearing and shattering and I don't know if I can wait to get into a hotel room before I break down as I'm breaking apart.

And then it's you. Of course it's you. I know you ran after me all the way here because as you burst into the flat your breath comes ragged and your cheeks are flushed and beautiful. Despite your lack of oxygen you are screaming at me, asking why why why and I cannot answer and I do not know and I cannot even look at you because I do not want you to see the tears pooling against my eyelashes.

But as you grab my chin and force me to stare into your galaxy eyes, one drop slips down my cheek, a quiet betrayal, and you follow its meandering path with your pupils, gazing at it the way you look at stars.

You fall silent, staring, thinking, and maybe it's just you flexing your fingers, but one glides tenderly along my jaw and it's too much, it's too much and I tear myself away, instantly missing your touch. My heart is freezing into stone and I set out the word leaving and it hangs in the hair, heavy and ugly, and you are still staring and I'm not even sure you heard me or can feel the crushing weight of the word. This hurts like bullets and is enough to make me move and I take two steps toward the door, two large and too permanent steps. Three, four, five, and there are no more tears as I reach the stairs.

Then suddenly there is something new. Something so strange and unexpected and new. Your arms are around me and I look down at the limbs wound across my chest and your torso is pressed all against my back and I do not know what this is, only that oh I love it. And yet I know it must be a fake, a lie, a small plead to retain whatever I am to you, but I am tired of this grasping to what isn't there so I try to detach myself but you drag me away, yanking the suitcase from my hands and yanking me down onto the couch and only then do I see the saltwater stains under your eyes, a rain in the desert.

And then you are pulling me close to you on the settee, begging over and over in a whispered, agonized voice please stay please stay please stay and my mouth is full of you again.

And I know. I know this is not fake; this is real, because nobody who is not horrifically in love can kiss the way you are kissing me. Like a sudden storm it dawns on me that your fear earlier tonight was of your own feelings, so rapidly awakened at the touch of our lips. I don't require your voice to tell me that you need me to stay, but it pours from your lips in between our sweet, breathy kisses, please don't go and I need you and I'd be lost and I'm yours. I reveal to you wordlessly that I will never leave, not unless you ask me to go, and the thought makes you laugh, relieved and dubious of its possibility.

My drumming heart is now wonderfully alive and I melt into your arms, wrapping myself around you. You sigh into my ear and your breath is hot on my neck and I love being the person you touch. I love how your body tells me you want me and I love the happiness and desire that sparkle in your eyes as you gaze at my face and trace my lines with your fingertips. I love this gentleness but I still crave the passion and the look on your face tells me there will be plenty of both in the future.

Author's Notes...

A new Johnlock for you lovely people! Yeah, it's quite similar to my first piece. But then again, I don't like any of my other work. This is the stuff that is least irritating.
Oh, well. I'll let you be the judge. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.
Please review. It'd really make me happy. I've been down a little bit lately, so maybe you feel kindly enough to raise my spirits.

I love you all!

~Neenie (tsoc)