Nineteen
Title: You Are My Signal Fire (Part 19)
Characters: Andrew Raycroft / Ian White
Word Count: 3157
Rating: PG-13, swearing
Disclaimer: I don’t own these players, nor do I know their sexual preferences. The whole thing is a work of my imagination. The title is part of the lyrics from snow patrol’s song ‘Signal Fire’. Avvy made by horselovergurl
|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15 || Parts 16 & 17 || Part 18 ||
Andy’s POV
I lay in a dreamy daze in my bed, sheets for the moment curled around my feet as I kicked them off with my growing fever. My body really wasn’t reacting well to the morphine they had prescribed but I didn’t want to stop taking it, because right now I didn’t want to feel anything.
My dreams were fuzzy and out of focus, and I dreamt that I was in net. Only I had no equipment on, I was naked and this shadowy player was skating up the ice towards me. I just stood there shivering in the net. Okay I can do this, I thought.
I held out my hands ready to catch the puck, but he skated around the net, making a couple of fake attempts to shoot the puck, torturing me slowly. Then, the player stopped short right in front of me and covered me in a wave of icy slush. He laughed a harsh laugh and then just like that he was gone, leaving me standing there alone in the empty arena, with the echo of his laugh, naked, exposed (physically and emotionally) and shivering like a leaf in a storm.
I sat up quickly in my bed, drenched in cold sweat. These pain killers were stronger than the ones I’d taken after my last surgery. I’d heard stories about people having strange dreams because of morphine but this was fucking ridiculous. My third one in the last hour, each time waking up soaking wet and wishing there was someone here. I lay back down, hugging my pillow close and drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
I heard the faint click of a lock being opened in the background, footsteps in the room, someone was here but I wasn’t sure who. Was this a dream? The person was now on the bed, crawling closer to me, running a hand through my hair. I heard whispered apologies in my ear but it wasn’t clear what exactly was said. Everything felt fuzzy still, their face was unclear, and so this must still be a dream.
I dreamt that the person was holding me close, brushing the sweat from my brow with the back of their hand. It felt nice to be held and to be close to someone again, especially when I felt how I did after the last dream. They pressed their lips to mine, it was soft and caring as if healing my problems. When I tried to get up they simply pushed me gently back on to the bed again, willing me to rest and recuperate. I slid back into a sleepy state, rolling over onto my stomach, avoiding my sore arm.
I sighed a sigh of relief as I lay on my stomach, a hand rubbing my back and relieving any tension that had been residing between my shoulder blades. It seemed as if I were missing parts of the dream as if I kept drifting in and out of it. Such a strange feeling this was.
The next time I was back in the dream, I thought I was drowning. Water all around, no wait…it was just falling on me, like a waterfall. I was being supported by something because I couldn’t stand, I realized it was the same faceless person and I leaned on them gratefully. I could taste the shampoo as it was washed from my hair and ran down my face onto my lips. Wait…can you taste in dreams? It all went dark again.
I awoke and this time I knew it was real because of the splitting pain in my arm. I groaned in pain, clutching my bandaged forearm. Suddenly I was aware that someone was in bed beside me…I heard a familiar voice in the dark, “You want me to get your medicine, it seems to have worn off.” I felt his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever.
I jerked away from his hand, the fuzziness wearing off quicker, “How long have you been here?” Grimacing as another shot of pain went from one nerve to the other from my fingers up to my shoulder. I needed my drugs but I had to deal with Ian first.
“Awhile. You’ve been pretty out of it. That morphine has been fucking with your mind pretty well.”
“No shit. I thought I was dreaming…but it was you.” I winced, with another spasm of pain, and he reached forward concerned but I eluded his touch, the sudden jerk causing more pain, “Please just leave. I don’t want you here.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand up but I fell over with a thud, not realizing just how dizzy I was until I was face first on the floor. Ian was at my side in an instant, “Let me help you. This is my fault.”
“Yes it is!” I growled, my anger building again, “So do me a favour and just FUCK OFF!” I pushed him away with my good arm and struggled to my feet on my own, heading into the kitchen. I popped open my pill bottle and poured some out on the counter, throwing two into my mouth and downing it with some water.
“You’re only supposed to take one…those things are addictive you know.” I didn’t even turn to look at him.
“What the fuck do you care anyways?” I hobbled back into the bedroom and crawled back under the covers, taking note that it was about 4 in the morning, maybe it was a 9…things were becoming more and more distorted as the morphine hit my blood stream.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you…okay that’s not true. After you took off in the cab I was definitely mad at you. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t trust me!”
I struggled to keep my eyelids open, they felt really heavy all of a sudden, “Yeah? I wonder why. Just try and deny that you fucked Paille…I hope…” I felt myself drifting off, despite my anger, “you’re very happy toget…er…”
Ian’s POV
He wasn’t getting rid of me that easily, I walked over to the bed and pulled his covers up around his shoulders, gently folding his broken arm under the covers. His breathing was slow and shallow and his face red and flushed, it was beginning to worry me. I went into his bathroom and grabbed a washcloth soaking it in cold water before returning to the bedroom to lay it on his forehead. “I’m so sorry Andy.”
He couldn’t hear me, but I wouldn’t stop saying it. It wouldn’t take away this feeling of guilt in my stomach, but I wouldn’t stop saying it. He would probably never forgive me, but still I wouldn’t stop saying it. He had to forgive me, we had to go back to how things were. I sponged the cold towel down the rest of his face before leaving it on the bedside table and leaving him to go sit in the living room. Suddenly my phone rang, “Hello?”
“How did things go? Where are you?” It was Kyle.
“Not so good. I’m at Andrew’s still because he’s in no condition to do anything by himself. He’s popping that morphine like they’re tic tacs. I’ve been trying to help him out, but most of the time he doesn’t even know it’s me. I mean I know they can give you hallucinations but jesus it’s like every 10 minutes.” I ruffled my hair in frustration, “I was helping him shower and he kept muttering something about drowning. I’m really worried Kyle. I’m afraid if I leave he’ll just down the whole bottle.”
“Well yeah. You better watch him…and…hey, he let you take a shower with him? He wasn’t still mad?”
“Oh no, he’s fucking furious when he’s coherent enough to realize it. I’m pretty sure if he was completely sober he wouldn’t want me here. But I can’t leave him like this. He’s totally helpless. He’d probably give himself another injury.”
“Fair enough. Well…good luck. I gotta go, me and Matty are going to breakfast before we hit the gym. Call me and let me know what’s going on okay?”
“Yeah. Later Wellie.”
“Bye.” The line went dead and I put my phone back in my pocket.
I walked back into the bedroom about an hour later to see Andrew squirming in his sleep. “No….no…!” his face was screwed up in discomfort and he writhed under the sheets, fighting some invisible force. I wish I knew what the nightmare was, so I could tell him it wasn’t true. “S-stop it!”
I sat on the edge of the bed beside him, using the wet towel to mop the cold sweat off his brow once more. He continued his mutterings, I thought I heard him whisper ‘don’t hurt him’ and I wondered who he was talking about. “NO!” he sat up quickly again, breathing heavily and making me jump in surprise. I pushed his hair out of his face, “It’s okay, don’t worry…whatever it was, it was just a dream.”
Shivering slightly he lay back down, but then grabbed his stomach in further discomfort. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head. “You going to throw up?” he nodded, his cheeks puffing out slightly as he fought back the urge to be sick. “Okay, let’s get you to the bathroom.”
He used me as a crutch as I half-dragged him into his bathroom. Andrew lunged forward suddenly, leaning over the toilet and expelling the contents of his stomach, which wasn’t very much to begin with. I knelt down on the floor and rubbed his back as he coughed up more, grabbing a Kleenex I wiped his mouth. He was shaking uncontrollably now as his body dealt with the shock of his regurgitation. I pulled him into a hug as I leaned against the wall, feeling his tremors run though me.
His head rested on my shoulder and I stroked it, a tear rolling down my cheek “I’m sorry but I’ll make it up to you after all of this. For now I’m just going to take care of you, okay?”
He feebly tried to push me away, but I just pulled him in tighter, “Don’t argue with me.”
His continued squirming attempts though were beginning to annoy me, so I picked him up and carried him over to his bed. Tucking him in under his covers I avoided his eyes. I could feel them on my face, he was glaring at me still. He had every right to be angry and that just made me want to help him more. To prove to him, just how sorry I was.
I moved the television into his room so that I would have something to do. I wanted to be in the same room as him in case he needed to run to the bathroom again. I stripped down to my boxers and got into his king size bed, starting out on the other side but slowly making my way over to him over the course of the day. I passed the middle and then suddenly I was beside him, I let my hand rest on his and then took it in mine, squeezing it tightly.
He rolled over half on top of me in his sleep, his arm slung across my stomach. I looked down at him as he drooled all over his pillow, completely unaware of anything at this point. A small smile crossed my face and I pushed his hair out of his eyes again. Poor Andrew. I’m such an idiot! I let my thumb run along his stubbly cheekbone, “I’m so sorry Andrew.”
We spent the greater portion of the day in bed, me watching the horrible day time television that was on and he completely out of it, sleeping the whole time. He stirred around 7 o’ clock at night, coming out of his drug-induced coma, groaning in pain once more. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. On the morphine he was so peaceful and in his dreamy state he almost seemed to want to be with me again. He squeezed my hand back a few times. But then when he was off the morphine, all of his anger came back to him and he yelled and threw things at me, yelling at me to get out until I would manage to make him swallow some more pills.
I really wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed. A couple days went by and the pattern continued, his calm under the influence and his raging soberness. I was irritated with his shortness after being yelled at for three days straight, but I held it back. This was my fault and I had no right to be angry at him for anything, but it didn’t stop me from being miserable.
On the fourth day his painkillers ran out, after feeding him the last two, I feared the time he would wake up. They would have lasted longer except he insisted on taking more than the recommended dose. I sat in the living room, as the water boiled on the stove. I was making pasta for dinner, if Andrew could keep it down that was. He had barely eaten anything all week.
When he woke up I found myself hiding in the kitchen, readying the meal…maybe the last one I’d ever have after he was through with me. He stumbled into the room and slumped down at the table, running his hands through his hair and looking pretty horrible.
“Why the hell are you still in my house? I told you to get out how many times now?”
I ignored the jab and continued stirring in the pasta sauce.
“No really. Leave! Why don’t you understand why I don’t want to see you?” He was getting upset again, not angry but depressed.
I plopped a bowl down in front of him and sprinkled some cheese on it, “Eat.”
He pushed it away childishly, “I’m not hungry.”
I rolled my eyes at him, sitting down in the chair beside him, “Do I have to feed you now too?” I pushed some spaghetti on the fork and lifted it up to his mouth, “Here comes the airplane…” He glowered at me, not overly impressed with my joke.
“Oh, come on. Please eat.” I held it front of him still, “I know that you’re hungry. You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”
He reluctantly let me put the fork in his mouth, “Finally.”
He chewed gratefully on the pasta, not taking his eyes off of me. When he finished he spoke again, “So you never answered me…”
“About what?” I asked nervously, knowing full well what he was talking about.
“Did you have fun fucking your boyfriend?” He took another bite of his food, eyes blazing angrily.
I wish I had some more morphine to feed him, “No…”
“So you don’t deny it then?”
Sighing, I looked down at the ground, “No.”
“Not quite how you remembered him? Turned out to be disappointing did he?”
“Look, I’m sorry. It was a bad judgement call and I’m an idiot. Please forgive me?”
He didn’t say anything and just continued eating his dinner, “Look…I stayed here the whole week looking after you. It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t mind taking care of you. Wanna know why?”
“Because you felt guilty?”
“No, well…mostly no. It’s because I love you.”
“I can’t believe you can even say that to me right now!” He pounded his fist on the table so hard, I jumped and so did his pasta bowl right off the table.
“I’m so sorry Andrew. Please…” I was never one for begging but he had to understand.
“Please what? Fuck! What do you want from me?”
“Andrew, I…”
“Just stop.” He was crying now and it was a horrible sight, he looked so thin and pale and fragile. My heart sank just looking at him, I just wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him it was going to be alright. “I clearly can’t offer you enough to make you stay. You have to go somewhere else to be completely satisfied. And I really don’t need this right now. So please, if you “love” me like you say you do…just leave me the fuck alone.”
He got up and went back into his bedroom, crawling back into bed and turning on the television, “I don’t hear the door hitting your ass on the way out!” he yelled from the bed.
Bending down, frowning at the floor, I picked up the spilt spaghetti and threw it in the garbage. I marched into the bedroom ready to yell at him, but he was lying there sobbing into the pillow he was hugging. When he saw me he hid his face behind it, “Don’t even look at me.”
I softened immediately, he needed me and he knew it, just like I knew I needed him. It wasn’t just a sex thing either, I needed him emotionally to support me. He was my crutch and for the last few days, I felt like it had been kicked out from underneath of me. I sat beside him on the bed, rubbing is leg, “I miss you.”
“I didn’t go anywhere…and you’ve been here all fucking week.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. I miss just hanging out, you and me. Or even hanging out with Matty and Kyle. Admit it. You do too.”
No response, I was right. “I miss sleeping here and falling asleep in your arms and waking up to your smiling face. And the way it makes me feel when you give me that all-knowing smirk of yours that says everything you want to do to me.”
His muffled voice came from under the pillow, “You know what…”
“What?” Oh great. Here it comes, more profanities and death threats.
“I hate that I can’t stay mad at you. It’s not fair.” He pulled the pillow down revealing his tear streaked face, with the dark circles under his eyes and scruffy beard that was beginning to set in. “And I’m afraid it’s going to make you think that everything’s okay. Because it’s not! That really fucking hurt me, and yet even though it hurts so bad I still don’t want you to go.”
I smiled at him, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. I promise.” I leaned forward hesitantly and let my lips gently caress his. He didn’t kiss back, but I felt that he wanted to. So I tried it again, pushing a little harder this time. This time he actually did kiss back, letting his hand grab onto my neck and pulling me in. Our lips parted and I let my forehead rest on his, nuzzling my nose against his, eyes closed.
“I missed you too.”
***Okay, so I changed my mind half way through writing this and decided to have them make-up sooner...there's still more to the make-up but I have to go to bed because it's 4 in the morning lol and I can't write anymore. ^.^
Characters: Andrew Raycroft / Ian White
Word Count: 3157
Rating: PG-13, swearing
Disclaimer: I don’t own these players, nor do I know their sexual preferences. The whole thing is a work of my imagination. The title is part of the lyrics from snow patrol’s song ‘Signal Fire’. Avvy made by horselovergurl
|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15 || Parts 16 & 17 || Part 18 ||
Andy’s POV
I lay in a dreamy daze in my bed, sheets for the moment curled around my feet as I kicked them off with my growing fever. My body really wasn’t reacting well to the morphine they had prescribed but I didn’t want to stop taking it, because right now I didn’t want to feel anything.
My dreams were fuzzy and out of focus, and I dreamt that I was in net. Only I had no equipment on, I was naked and this shadowy player was skating up the ice towards me. I just stood there shivering in the net. Okay I can do this, I thought.
I held out my hands ready to catch the puck, but he skated around the net, making a couple of fake attempts to shoot the puck, torturing me slowly. Then, the player stopped short right in front of me and covered me in a wave of icy slush. He laughed a harsh laugh and then just like that he was gone, leaving me standing there alone in the empty arena, with the echo of his laugh, naked, exposed (physically and emotionally) and shivering like a leaf in a storm.
I sat up quickly in my bed, drenched in cold sweat. These pain killers were stronger than the ones I’d taken after my last surgery. I’d heard stories about people having strange dreams because of morphine but this was fucking ridiculous. My third one in the last hour, each time waking up soaking wet and wishing there was someone here. I lay back down, hugging my pillow close and drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
I heard the faint click of a lock being opened in the background, footsteps in the room, someone was here but I wasn’t sure who. Was this a dream? The person was now on the bed, crawling closer to me, running a hand through my hair. I heard whispered apologies in my ear but it wasn’t clear what exactly was said. Everything felt fuzzy still, their face was unclear, and so this must still be a dream.
I dreamt that the person was holding me close, brushing the sweat from my brow with the back of their hand. It felt nice to be held and to be close to someone again, especially when I felt how I did after the last dream. They pressed their lips to mine, it was soft and caring as if healing my problems. When I tried to get up they simply pushed me gently back on to the bed again, willing me to rest and recuperate. I slid back into a sleepy state, rolling over onto my stomach, avoiding my sore arm.
I sighed a sigh of relief as I lay on my stomach, a hand rubbing my back and relieving any tension that had been residing between my shoulder blades. It seemed as if I were missing parts of the dream as if I kept drifting in and out of it. Such a strange feeling this was.
The next time I was back in the dream, I thought I was drowning. Water all around, no wait…it was just falling on me, like a waterfall. I was being supported by something because I couldn’t stand, I realized it was the same faceless person and I leaned on them gratefully. I could taste the shampoo as it was washed from my hair and ran down my face onto my lips. Wait…can you taste in dreams? It all went dark again.
I awoke and this time I knew it was real because of the splitting pain in my arm. I groaned in pain, clutching my bandaged forearm. Suddenly I was aware that someone was in bed beside me…I heard a familiar voice in the dark, “You want me to get your medicine, it seems to have worn off.” I felt his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever.
I jerked away from his hand, the fuzziness wearing off quicker, “How long have you been here?” Grimacing as another shot of pain went from one nerve to the other from my fingers up to my shoulder. I needed my drugs but I had to deal with Ian first.
“Awhile. You’ve been pretty out of it. That morphine has been fucking with your mind pretty well.”
“No shit. I thought I was dreaming…but it was you.” I winced, with another spasm of pain, and he reached forward concerned but I eluded his touch, the sudden jerk causing more pain, “Please just leave. I don’t want you here.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand up but I fell over with a thud, not realizing just how dizzy I was until I was face first on the floor. Ian was at my side in an instant, “Let me help you. This is my fault.”
“Yes it is!” I growled, my anger building again, “So do me a favour and just FUCK OFF!” I pushed him away with my good arm and struggled to my feet on my own, heading into the kitchen. I popped open my pill bottle and poured some out on the counter, throwing two into my mouth and downing it with some water.
“You’re only supposed to take one…those things are addictive you know.” I didn’t even turn to look at him.
“What the fuck do you care anyways?” I hobbled back into the bedroom and crawled back under the covers, taking note that it was about 4 in the morning, maybe it was a 9…things were becoming more and more distorted as the morphine hit my blood stream.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you…okay that’s not true. After you took off in the cab I was definitely mad at you. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t trust me!”
I struggled to keep my eyelids open, they felt really heavy all of a sudden, “Yeah? I wonder why. Just try and deny that you fucked Paille…I hope…” I felt myself drifting off, despite my anger, “you’re very happy toget…er…”
Ian’s POV
He wasn’t getting rid of me that easily, I walked over to the bed and pulled his covers up around his shoulders, gently folding his broken arm under the covers. His breathing was slow and shallow and his face red and flushed, it was beginning to worry me. I went into his bathroom and grabbed a washcloth soaking it in cold water before returning to the bedroom to lay it on his forehead. “I’m so sorry Andy.”
He couldn’t hear me, but I wouldn’t stop saying it. It wouldn’t take away this feeling of guilt in my stomach, but I wouldn’t stop saying it. He would probably never forgive me, but still I wouldn’t stop saying it. He had to forgive me, we had to go back to how things were. I sponged the cold towel down the rest of his face before leaving it on the bedside table and leaving him to go sit in the living room. Suddenly my phone rang, “Hello?”
“How did things go? Where are you?” It was Kyle.
“Not so good. I’m at Andrew’s still because he’s in no condition to do anything by himself. He’s popping that morphine like they’re tic tacs. I’ve been trying to help him out, but most of the time he doesn’t even know it’s me. I mean I know they can give you hallucinations but jesus it’s like every 10 minutes.” I ruffled my hair in frustration, “I was helping him shower and he kept muttering something about drowning. I’m really worried Kyle. I’m afraid if I leave he’ll just down the whole bottle.”
“Well yeah. You better watch him…and…hey, he let you take a shower with him? He wasn’t still mad?”
“Oh no, he’s fucking furious when he’s coherent enough to realize it. I’m pretty sure if he was completely sober he wouldn’t want me here. But I can’t leave him like this. He’s totally helpless. He’d probably give himself another injury.”
“Fair enough. Well…good luck. I gotta go, me and Matty are going to breakfast before we hit the gym. Call me and let me know what’s going on okay?”
“Yeah. Later Wellie.”
“Bye.” The line went dead and I put my phone back in my pocket.
I walked back into the bedroom about an hour later to see Andrew squirming in his sleep. “No….no…!” his face was screwed up in discomfort and he writhed under the sheets, fighting some invisible force. I wish I knew what the nightmare was, so I could tell him it wasn’t true. “S-stop it!”
I sat on the edge of the bed beside him, using the wet towel to mop the cold sweat off his brow once more. He continued his mutterings, I thought I heard him whisper ‘don’t hurt him’ and I wondered who he was talking about. “NO!” he sat up quickly again, breathing heavily and making me jump in surprise. I pushed his hair out of his face, “It’s okay, don’t worry…whatever it was, it was just a dream.”
Shivering slightly he lay back down, but then grabbed his stomach in further discomfort. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head. “You going to throw up?” he nodded, his cheeks puffing out slightly as he fought back the urge to be sick. “Okay, let’s get you to the bathroom.”
He used me as a crutch as I half-dragged him into his bathroom. Andrew lunged forward suddenly, leaning over the toilet and expelling the contents of his stomach, which wasn’t very much to begin with. I knelt down on the floor and rubbed his back as he coughed up more, grabbing a Kleenex I wiped his mouth. He was shaking uncontrollably now as his body dealt with the shock of his regurgitation. I pulled him into a hug as I leaned against the wall, feeling his tremors run though me.
His head rested on my shoulder and I stroked it, a tear rolling down my cheek “I’m sorry but I’ll make it up to you after all of this. For now I’m just going to take care of you, okay?”
He feebly tried to push me away, but I just pulled him in tighter, “Don’t argue with me.”
His continued squirming attempts though were beginning to annoy me, so I picked him up and carried him over to his bed. Tucking him in under his covers I avoided his eyes. I could feel them on my face, he was glaring at me still. He had every right to be angry and that just made me want to help him more. To prove to him, just how sorry I was.
I moved the television into his room so that I would have something to do. I wanted to be in the same room as him in case he needed to run to the bathroom again. I stripped down to my boxers and got into his king size bed, starting out on the other side but slowly making my way over to him over the course of the day. I passed the middle and then suddenly I was beside him, I let my hand rest on his and then took it in mine, squeezing it tightly.
He rolled over half on top of me in his sleep, his arm slung across my stomach. I looked down at him as he drooled all over his pillow, completely unaware of anything at this point. A small smile crossed my face and I pushed his hair out of his eyes again. Poor Andrew. I’m such an idiot! I let my thumb run along his stubbly cheekbone, “I’m so sorry Andrew.”
We spent the greater portion of the day in bed, me watching the horrible day time television that was on and he completely out of it, sleeping the whole time. He stirred around 7 o’ clock at night, coming out of his drug-induced coma, groaning in pain once more. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. On the morphine he was so peaceful and in his dreamy state he almost seemed to want to be with me again. He squeezed my hand back a few times. But then when he was off the morphine, all of his anger came back to him and he yelled and threw things at me, yelling at me to get out until I would manage to make him swallow some more pills.
I really wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed. A couple days went by and the pattern continued, his calm under the influence and his raging soberness. I was irritated with his shortness after being yelled at for three days straight, but I held it back. This was my fault and I had no right to be angry at him for anything, but it didn’t stop me from being miserable.
On the fourth day his painkillers ran out, after feeding him the last two, I feared the time he would wake up. They would have lasted longer except he insisted on taking more than the recommended dose. I sat in the living room, as the water boiled on the stove. I was making pasta for dinner, if Andrew could keep it down that was. He had barely eaten anything all week.
When he woke up I found myself hiding in the kitchen, readying the meal…maybe the last one I’d ever have after he was through with me. He stumbled into the room and slumped down at the table, running his hands through his hair and looking pretty horrible.
“Why the hell are you still in my house? I told you to get out how many times now?”
I ignored the jab and continued stirring in the pasta sauce.
“No really. Leave! Why don’t you understand why I don’t want to see you?” He was getting upset again, not angry but depressed.
I plopped a bowl down in front of him and sprinkled some cheese on it, “Eat.”
He pushed it away childishly, “I’m not hungry.”
I rolled my eyes at him, sitting down in the chair beside him, “Do I have to feed you now too?” I pushed some spaghetti on the fork and lifted it up to his mouth, “Here comes the airplane…” He glowered at me, not overly impressed with my joke.
“Oh, come on. Please eat.” I held it front of him still, “I know that you’re hungry. You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”
He reluctantly let me put the fork in his mouth, “Finally.”
He chewed gratefully on the pasta, not taking his eyes off of me. When he finished he spoke again, “So you never answered me…”
“About what?” I asked nervously, knowing full well what he was talking about.
“Did you have fun fucking your boyfriend?” He took another bite of his food, eyes blazing angrily.
I wish I had some more morphine to feed him, “No…”
“So you don’t deny it then?”
Sighing, I looked down at the ground, “No.”
“Not quite how you remembered him? Turned out to be disappointing did he?”
“Look, I’m sorry. It was a bad judgement call and I’m an idiot. Please forgive me?”
He didn’t say anything and just continued eating his dinner, “Look…I stayed here the whole week looking after you. It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t mind taking care of you. Wanna know why?”
“Because you felt guilty?”
“No, well…mostly no. It’s because I love you.”
“I can’t believe you can even say that to me right now!” He pounded his fist on the table so hard, I jumped and so did his pasta bowl right off the table.
“I’m so sorry Andrew. Please…” I was never one for begging but he had to understand.
“Please what? Fuck! What do you want from me?”
“Andrew, I…”
“Just stop.” He was crying now and it was a horrible sight, he looked so thin and pale and fragile. My heart sank just looking at him, I just wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him it was going to be alright. “I clearly can’t offer you enough to make you stay. You have to go somewhere else to be completely satisfied. And I really don’t need this right now. So please, if you “love” me like you say you do…just leave me the fuck alone.”
He got up and went back into his bedroom, crawling back into bed and turning on the television, “I don’t hear the door hitting your ass on the way out!” he yelled from the bed.
Bending down, frowning at the floor, I picked up the spilt spaghetti and threw it in the garbage. I marched into the bedroom ready to yell at him, but he was lying there sobbing into the pillow he was hugging. When he saw me he hid his face behind it, “Don’t even look at me.”
I softened immediately, he needed me and he knew it, just like I knew I needed him. It wasn’t just a sex thing either, I needed him emotionally to support me. He was my crutch and for the last few days, I felt like it had been kicked out from underneath of me. I sat beside him on the bed, rubbing is leg, “I miss you.”
“I didn’t go anywhere…and you’ve been here all fucking week.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. I miss just hanging out, you and me. Or even hanging out with Matty and Kyle. Admit it. You do too.”
No response, I was right. “I miss sleeping here and falling asleep in your arms and waking up to your smiling face. And the way it makes me feel when you give me that all-knowing smirk of yours that says everything you want to do to me.”
His muffled voice came from under the pillow, “You know what…”
“What?” Oh great. Here it comes, more profanities and death threats.
“I hate that I can’t stay mad at you. It’s not fair.” He pulled the pillow down revealing his tear streaked face, with the dark circles under his eyes and scruffy beard that was beginning to set in. “And I’m afraid it’s going to make you think that everything’s okay. Because it’s not! That really fucking hurt me, and yet even though it hurts so bad I still don’t want you to go.”
I smiled at him, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. I promise.” I leaned forward hesitantly and let my lips gently caress his. He didn’t kiss back, but I felt that he wanted to. So I tried it again, pushing a little harder this time. This time he actually did kiss back, letting his hand grab onto my neck and pulling me in. Our lips parted and I let my forehead rest on his, nuzzling my nose against his, eyes closed.
“I missed you too.”
***Okay, so I changed my mind half way through writing this and decided to have them make-up sooner...there's still more to the make-up but I have to go to bed because it's 4 in the morning lol and I can't write anymore. ^.^