One Shot: At the Dry Wall
Title: At the Dry Wall
Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: Overall NC-17 (Domestic violence involved)
Genre: AU / Angst
Word Count: 1,935 Words
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Liverpool FC. The story line belongs to…well, you’ll know it when you finish reading this short whimsical fic.
A/N: End credits below.
1.
I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like.
I wake up because sunlight prickles my lids. There's weight across my waist, it's an arm: Daniel's arm. He might take my hand when I was sleeping because our hands are holding. I flip his hand, unintentionally at first, I swear. But then those black ominous letters sting me in the eyes; it's read 'Sophia 405-631-xxxx'.
Not. Again. You son of a bitch!
"What's this?! Who's this?!" I shriek, shove his bothering hand and pin it on the bed. Next minute I know, I'm straddling him, beating and screaming at him like a hysterical person.
Daniel grabs my hands which are now hurting him. He throws me down onto the bed while I'm screeching. He tries to calm me down by force, not by words. But I'm uncompromisable. I spit at his face and curse out loud.
"You cocksucker! You lied to me again! You cunt, I wish you'd die!"
Then I hear a loud noise of skin slapping skin. Numbness spreads across my left cheek and maybe a bitter bit of blood at the corner of my mouth.
"Don't you ever fucking talk to me like that again!" Daniel points at my face, grits his teeth and breaks away. He strides across the room to a couch, trying to calm himself down leaving me alone in bed.
It hurts, and at the same time it doesn't hurt. I've already got used to this kind of brutality until it seems to be a part of my life, my body. It blends in and can't hurt me anymore.
And maybe this is enough.
Getting up, I walk to the wardrobe near our bed, open it and ransack for something inside. Daniel looks up.
"What're you doing?"
I don't answer him at first but keeping on stuffing my clothes into a bag. Daniel snarled.
"What the fuck you think you're doing, Fernando Torres?!"
"I'm leaving!" I yell. Then I hear heavy footsteps stomping towards me. But before I could defend myself, my arm was pulled ferociously and I was thrown down onto the bed, again.
"No, you ain't!" Daniel screeches, straddling me. I scream, trying to hit him. But it's like the same wicked cycle, the same broken record stuck on the same scratch over and over; he slaps me so hard and this time it even numbs my brain.
"You're not goin' anywhere!" Daniel yells.
***
2.
You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe?
I'm at a pub, there're not so many nice pubs in this fucking small town.
I'm a bit wasted, and everybody knows best not to piss me off because I'm not such a nice guy especially when I have alcohols running in my veins. I'm with my best pals: Nick and Martin. Nobody dares messing with us when we three are together, it's threatening just by the looks.
That's when my eyes fall on a familiar figure on the other side of the pub. Fernando might just finish his work at the nearby Ford showroom, but that's not what makes me suddenly fume and almost clench a bottle of beer in my hand to shatters. It's because Fernando is with a guy I don't know. He's definitely not one of Fernando's bosses or colleagues. And from his outfit, he seems to be an upper-middle-to-high-class kind of guy, absolutely not from this area of town. Maybe he’s Fernando's new customer, but why the fuck should I care who he is?!
He's messing with a wrong guy. Fernando’s mine and I'll give him a lesson that next time around, he shouldn't flirt with any good-looking guy who's trying to sell him a car.
Before Nick or Martin could stop me, I stand up. Swaggering in that direction, everyone flees out of my way especially when they notice a bottle in my hand. I reach Fernando and that guy in no time, catching extreme fear instantly flashes in the Spaniard's eyes the first sight he sees me.
But no one can stop it. My bottle hits precisely on that guy's head at the same time Fernando screams.
"Daniel! You fuckass! Let go of me!" Fernando is screaming and sobbing. I grip him by his blond hair, throw him onto our bed furiously.
“Who’s that dude?!” I growl but don’t actually expecting an answer. I straddle him. He hits me, claws me and tries to push me away. But I'm stronger than him. I slap him, it freezes him for a good full minute. Then I hastily rip his clothes off, tearing them to shreds carelessly. I crush our lips together, and he bites me, scratches me until I'm burn all over by his fangs and talons, and that makes me even more enraged. I flip him over, pin him down and tear his ass with my cock.
Fernando weeps, sniveling like a desperate child. But I don't care. I rock, pound into him senselessly. I'm envious, I'm jealous, I'm mad. Fernando wrenches the sheets, his scream resounds in the room, in my ears. I know he’s hurt, but I just can't stop my doing. I fuck him, lose myself into him. And when I crash into him one last time, our shrieks fuse into one coalescent sound and I come in him while he climaxes all over the sheets.
When I pull myself out of him, there's also blood coming out with it. It's dripping, dabbing the white counterpane with sinister maroon blotches.
I come out of the bathroom and see Fernando hurriedly packing his bag. My throat suddenly dries up. It's bitter inside, like there's steel knife in my windpipe. It makes me can't properly breathe. But I pretend to be strong. I stalk forward, snatch that bag off Fernando's hand. The Spaniard looks up, he's crying noiselessly.
"Give it back to me," he murmurs. His voice's so wretched it breaks my heart.
"Fernando, don't do this." My voice's parched, too.
"It's best to go our separate ways," Fernando mumbles, striding forward to snatch the bag back. I'm furious now. I shove him to the wall, his back hits it with a loud thump. He shrieks, "Let go of me!" and punches me in my face. I curl my fist into a ball and punch, at the dry wall next to him.
Fernando is trembling, he gingerly opens his eyes, looks so surprised that I didn't punch him straight in his face. I don't dare looking him in the eyes, so I stare at somewhere while hugging him tight in my arms.
"Fernando, I'm sorry. I'm not gonna lay my hands on you again, I promise," I swear.
"You told me this before," Fernando sobs. "Not just once, or twice. And you lied to me, again and again."
"I really mean it this time, I mean, I really meant it every time. But this time I swear, I'll show restraint. Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the dry wall," I'm pleading. I know I had said this line before. Everything is like a broken record, playing itself over and over again.
Fernando cries harder but he hugs me back. My heart's racing overjoyedly, like it's actually gone crazy. The Spaniard cries on my shoulder and I embrace him, soothe him with my hands. I know I just get him back, one more time.
When I wake up the next morning, Fernando's hand is tenderly gliding across my face. His smile when he sees me open my eyes is brighter than any summer sunshine. And when he kisses me on the lips, it's like the world actually stops spinning, like I'm Superman and he's Lois Lane and we could actually fly.
God, I love this boy too much to walk away now.
***
3.
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano.
I lied to him again. I just hit him again.
I'm sitting in bed, watching him packing his bag the umpteenth time. Fernando's sobbing and as feral as a rabid dog. If I get closer to him than one-metre radius, he'll punch me, claw me and do anything to get me out of his way.
He's for real this time.
He stands up, a bag in hand, and stalks to the door. I run after and grab him in time as he dashes out the open door and he instantly shoves me away, his bag falls to the floor. Outside, the rain’s pouring and Fernando who’s halfway out is already soaked. He stands there with rain and tears trickling down his cheeks and I try to talk him out of this in a calm voice.
"Fernando, just come back inside. Pick up your bag off the sidewalk, baby," I plead. Fernando picks up his bag but instead of coming back inside, he turns to walk away. I dart to him, grab his arms and turn him around. He screams, beats me, scratches me and tries to get away. The rain soaks us both.
"Fernando, I'm sorry, please. Don't you hear sincerity in my voice? Look me in the eyes, Fernando!" I start to get livid again, my hands squeeze his arms. He wails because of the pain but then his lethal talons claw across my face. And from the burning pain, I know his nails just gash my skin.
I grit my teeth and feel something inside me snap. I slap him. Fernando's cheek on that side gets reddened and the trace of my palm appears on his pale freckly skin. I pick up his bag and drag him into our house - he doesn't even struggle now - slam the door loudly behind then haul him to our bedroom before letting go of him, leaving him stand there sobbing quietly.
"I'm sorry," I murmur an apology even though I know it’s a lie. But I'm tired of the games and I just want him back, so, so bad. "Go back to your bed," my voice's rigid, "and if you ever try to fucking leave again, I'll tie you to bed and set this house on fire."
***
4.
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems.
I'm standing there, crying noiselessly. Daniel is in front of me, soaked wet. Crimson blood trickling down his cheek from the wound I scratched on his face. He's looking at me with furious eyes.
He said he would tie me to bed and set this house on fire, then what?
"And then what?" I weep. "Are you gonna stand there and watch me burn when the house's on fire?" Daniel is taken aback by those words, I cry harder. "And how long are you gonna just stand there and hear me cry?!"
Daniel's bewildered. He gingerly walks forward. And when I don't show any caveat of harm, he reaches me, hugs me in his arms and tries to comfort me like he always does when we fight, innumerable times before.
"You can burn me if you want," I sob fervently on his shoulder like I'm about to choke on my own breaths. "Because I like the way it hurts. And you can just hit me and lie to me again and again if you'd like." I hug him back, snuggled up against him, still couldn’t stop crying. If I could really let him go, I'd have done that long time ago.
I love him too much to do that, though.
"Because, Daniel…," I weep against his lips when we end up kissing again, "…I love the way you lie."
The End.
End credits: The story line belongs to Eminem and Rihanna, definitely.
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