Rating: T

Jareth/Sarah

Seeing Red

"How was your date?"

He reclines insolently on her couch, a sneer twisting his lips. Her temper smashes through the room like precious crystal shattering. The sharp edge of her tongue rips open festering wounds, and his heart bleeds. His mouth is all too familiar with the shape of biting words meant to cut as deeply as possible. He wishes he remembered what speaking the truth feels like.

In the beginning, this was coy teasing and delicious possibilities. When he first appeared after ten years, the bitterness hadn't formed in her eyes yet. At first, all he saw was wariness, and it reflected the tremble in his heart. She was suspicious of his intentions; he was afraid of rejection.

Because he's loved her for longer than she can fathom, has known since before time acquired a name he belongs to her—

"It was great. You know why? Because he's not you."

—but mortal love is nothing if not capricious.

Their rage erupts; hers more explosive than a flashover, his burning colder than starlight. Wrath paints the walls crimson. All he sees is the red line of her mouth, sneering lushly at him, and the flame of anger on her cheeks. He wants to walk away from it all, true love be damned, because the hurt isn't worth the effort anymore. He's compromised his very life to find her again, doesn't she understand that? Can't she see how simply being here slowly kills him? Her world is too heavy, and the staggering weight nearly drives him to his knees.

"How dare you arrogantly presume you have any say in my life! You are nothing but a childhood fantasy that I forgot. Why are you even here?"

The pain in his chest only compounds the crushing pressure, and it's all he can do to remain upright.

"I'm arrogant? That's rich coming from you, my love."

Green eyes widen and angry scarlet flushes to startled pink. Jareth hesitates at the cessation of enmity from her beautiful mouth.

"What did you say?"

Her whispered question is full of things his head can't entirely interpret, but his heart skips. Jareth narrows his eyes. "Don't read so much into sobriquets." He waves it aside, as though it's meaningless.

"You're lying. I can always tell."

Damn her eyes for seeing more than they should. He used to admire her tenacity; now he finds it arduous.

His heart though, soars and protests: Look at her, standing there, her mouth soft and her eyes no longer full of rancor. She's waiting to hear those right words.

Jareth clips the foolish organ's wings. "I grow weary of this. Perhaps we should finally leave off."

"No, wait—!"

He ignores her, finds his path home, and disappears from her living room. He intends to brood, to nurse his wounded heart back to health; it won't take long. Only forever.

"Tell me."

Jareth spins around, so astounded by the sight of Sarah standing in his throne room every scathing word he's ever known dies on his tongue. She searches his face with her keen eyes, and a smile appears, much like those she used to wear—the ones that used to fill him with hope.

"Tell me you love me."

Her brash nature was once an endearing trait, but now it causes his lips to forget how to form the proper movements.

"Or do I have to go first? Is that how this game is played? Fine. I love you, Jareth. Even when you piss me off, even when you stick your nose where it doesn't belong, I love you. Even when I started to think you didn't feel the same, I loved you. I love you each time someone asks me out, and I always wish it was you."

The swell of emotion in Jareth's chest is another roadblock his voice can't maneuver around. He can't believe the words coming out of her, is afraid to hope this isn't another cruel dream his subconscious has decided to torture him with.

"Every terrible thing I say is a lie, but I'm scared of not being enough for you. I'm afraid of being just an amusing pastime, that you'll eventually grow bored and leave. Then you do leave, and I find myself crying because it's too late. In spite of all my doubts and fears, you've had my heart for years. I've just never stopped being that silly girl who thinks a king will fall in love with her."

At his silence, a smile curves Sarah's mouth again, this one full of self-deprecation.

"So now you know. I'm ridiculously and furiously in love with you."

When she still receives no response, a rare expression of uncertainty crosses her face. She clasps her hands together and licks her lips; those lovely lips that form declarations as exquisitely as curses.

"Well, this is embarrassing, and I have to work in the morning. If you wouldn't mind sending me back…?"

He wants to know how she got here in the first place, but that will be for another conversation.

Right now, he's releasing the jesses on his heart and telling her.

A/N: Because I'm always looking for new ways to procrastinate what I should be doing, I've started the 100 Themes challenge. Updates will be sporadic, lengths will vary, and the rating may change. I'll try to remember to put the rating and characters for each story at the beginning.

The usual disclaimers apply to all chapters.