Damned If I Do Ya 12/13
Title: Damned If I Do Ya
Author: desperate2break
Rating: U
Pairing: Zack Merrick/Oli Sykes
POV: Zack Merrick
Summary: Zack is a born-rich kid with nothing but time on his hands. He knows only luxury and when he wants something, he wants it now. A whole new world is revealed to him when he meets humble Oliver Sykes...
Warnings: Graphic language use, angst, slight violence
Dedications: .Beanz, cuz she can't sleep and neither can I
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing. But, should anyone want to gift me with anything...
Authors notes: Guise! This is important; I'm going to be taking a little break from slashage here for a while, but I AM going to be posting quite frequently on my own journal - little drabbles and stuff - so look there for fic. I'll be AWOL from this community for a bit.
I retired late on Sunday, having sat through a literal 5 hours of mindless TV shows. It didn't take long for me to find sleep once I'd stripped and hit the mattress. I slept peacefully, dreamlessly.
Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap.
I stirred.
Tap tap.
It was raining; from what I could hear, hailing. I'd always loved watching the rain pelt down the windows of my comfortable dry room, so I slithered out from the covers and drew back the curtains.
My mouth dropped.
Standing, coatless, in the midst of hailstones was a completely drenched Oli.
'Oli!' I called, voice drowned out partially by the rainfall. 'What are you doing here?'
He gazed up at me. 'I waited for you, Zack. I waited....' His voice sounded thick, almost as if he'd been crying, but he was so quiet I couldn't tell.
'Stay there,' I instructed, throwing on some pants. 'I'm coming.'
I crept downstairs, let him in through the front door, and took him up to my room. He left a trail of water behind him, and when he stood in the middle of my room, he stood in a puddle. His long dark hair dripped onto his clothes, which dripped onto the carpet. The cast around his broken wrist was wet and it wasn't supposed to be. I didn't know what to do so I just stood, silent.
'I waited,' he repeated in a husky voice. I could see the tears streaming down his smooth cheeks in the dim lamplight. 'Why didn't you come?'
I gulped. 'You - you'll get sick; you need to get out of those clothes.'
I stepped forward to help him remove his sodden shirt but he fought me off, eyes firmly fixed on mine. If he'd jarred his wrist in the process, he showed no indication.
'Don't you love me anymore?'
Those five little words shattered my heart into eighty thousand pieces, littering the bottom of my stomach. I lurched forward to hold him. He pushed me away roughly and repeated his question.
'I tried not to,' I confessed slowly, bowing my head. 'I tried so hard not to. I can't. It's like you're permanently engraved on my brain - I can't stop thinking about you. It's driving me crazy.'
'It's been four weeks. A month. Why didn't you come? Did I do something wrong?'
'No. No; how could you think that?' I began to cry myself as I grasped his hand, studying the violet bruising on his face that started at his eye and ended by his chin.
'Don't you care about me? I need you, Zack -'
I let go of his hand, losing my temper fast. 'You don't get it - how could I look at you, see you in this state, and know it's all because of me?' I clenched my jaw and angry tears made their way down my face. He didn't understand at all. 'It's not good for you. I'm not good for you. Why couldn't you just do us all a favour and forget me?'
He reached out for me. 'I don't want to forget you...'
I pushed him away, causing him to collapse onto the bed. 'Yes you do. You don't need me - you don't want me. I don't want you. Go find someone else.'
I took a trembling breath to feel the extent of my sharp words piercing my chest. Then I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Oli was slumped on the bed; I could see his fragile frame curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth in pain with his face in his hands. His sobs were loud now, loud and heart-wrenching.
'Oh, Oli,' I murmured, pulling him onto his feet and into me. I held him as tight as I could. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't. I don't want you to forget me or find someone else. I love you so much Oli. I loved you the day I met you. I'll always love you.' I pressed my warm face against his frozen neck, hearing his sobs die down to minute hiccups. 'Forgive me, my love; I beg you, forgive me. I'm sorry.' I held his beautiful tear-streaked face in my hands and smothered it in kisses. 'I was so stupid; I tried to end it with you - I didn't want you to get hurt again...I only did it because I love you. I love you so, so much.'
His erratic inhalation slowed, an occasional breath hitching in his throat, and finally he slid his arms around me and held me close. He was a block of ice against my body, rainwater seeping into my skin.
'I know you didn't mean it,' he mumbled into my shoulder. 'But it still hurt.'
I closed my eyes and pressed a kiss to the the top of his head. 'Forgive me, my love?'
I felt him nod.
'Thank you. Come on; let's go do you a bath before you turn into an icicle.'
I tried to prise him off me but he clung fast.
'Not yet,' he breathed. Then he leaned in and kissed me slowly with the lips of an angel. I kissed him like never before; tongue carressing his inner bottom lip and then the inside of his cheek where I could feel the harsh ridges of his four stitches. He tasted sweet and warm and familiar; he tasted like home. I licked his saliva from my top lip and helped him out of his wet clothes, into my robe, before running him a bath.
I stayed at the corner of the bathroom door, listening to him lower himself in; trying not to peek at his perfect bare back. Trying and failing.
'Want me to come help?' I enquired softly, just wanting an excuse to touch him.
'No, I'm fine.'
I stood up from my seat on the floor and took one last look at his cute little butt resting on the marble of the tub, before throwing his clothes into the hamper and making a mental note to dispose of his jeans but use his shirt as a blanket in future. I held his undershirt to my face and inhaled; the dry parts smelt of him.
'I'm leaving some clothes on my bed for you,' I called, laying out some red pyjamas. He looked nice in red. 'I won't look; you can get changed.'
'You can look,' he replied, emerging from the ensuite, causing me to turn around. 'I don't mind.'
The blue bruises all over his slender torso put pins-and-needles in my eyes, but then I stole a glance or two (or eleven) at his adorable petite penis and it made me smile. He caught me staring and blushed, so shy he fumbled with his underwear.
'You can have this back,' he told me, holding out the pyjama shirt. 'I don't wear tops to sleep.'
I drew back the bedsheets and waited for him to pick a side. He chose my side. I knew he would.
He entwined my legs with his; the only part of his body that was in fully functional order; and ran his fingers down my stomach. His calluses had softened considerably.
'I feel like I haven't seen you in years,' he whispered. His thumb lined my belly button. 'I don't like that feeling.'
'Me niether,' I responded. 'If I had it my way, I'd go to sleep and wake up to you every day.' I kissed him gently. 'Seriously, if you ever wanted me to run away with you, all you have to do is say the word.'
'You'll come running?'
'I'll come flying.'
'You're taking the piss out of me.' He snuggled into me and closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. 'Don't.'
'I won't. Well, I'll try not to but you make it really easy.'
'Cheeky sod. I love you, Zack.'
I stroked his hair, watching him. 'I love you too, Oliver.'
And for once, he didn't correct me.