Certain of you out there... really may NOT want to see this...
So... it's Ty and Con. Okay? Those who want to read... read. Those who'd rather skip - please do so. I will not be held responsible for the potential mind-fuck that these two put me through... all the time.
* * *
Love that is not madness is not love.
~Pedro Calderon de la Barca
"Where are you going? Ty! Come on," Con's fingers catch at Ty's elbow, sliding over the soft black cotton of his hoodie, smoother and finer than most, nicer than his, as the other snakes away, turning a corner just ahead of him, walking so fast he's nearly jogging trying to catch up, half-running down the hallway of his apartment building. "Come on, quit it, will you? What, are you mad at me or something?"
"Why would I be mad, Con?" Ty pauses for half an instant before he pulls open the door to the stairwell, turning the icy shiver of his glare on Con.
His lover's face is a mask of composure, but his eyes... he's not bothering to hide the annoyance; which is actually good - Con thinks - it bodes better than the alternative... it means that Ty wants him to know he's pissed. Con sighs at the sight however; no matter how good an omen, it's still irritating as hell whenever the blond pulls one of his hissy fits. "Come on, Christ! What was I supposed to say? She fucking hates you, you know that... She'd only worry if she knew I was with you. Ty... Ty!" Rushing forward, he manages to catch the stairwell door before it slams shut, hurrying after Ty, who's already halfway down the first flight of stairs. Maybe that wasn't the best thing he could have said, but dammit, it's the truth!
The blond pauses on the first landing, long enough to let Con catch up, turning back to him with his hands shoved in his skinny-black-jeans' pockets, body tense, "And am I going to be a secret, forever? You think I don't know what you're doing... why you don't tell your friends or your family about me? Make up all your fucking little excuses to sneak off with me, or make sure no one comes around when I'm at your place? If no one knows, it's like it's not real, right? You don't have to admit it to anybody - not even yourself - that you're with me." He just stands there glaring for a minute... clear-blue eyes as cold as ice and twice as clear... and for a moment, a shining fraction of a moment... flooded with emotion - anger and doubt and longing... and frustration. So much frustration... and confusion. So much... it bursts out of him in a gasping breath, "Fuck, Con! What the hell are we even doing?"
Ty's hand snaps out, the iron grip of slender fingers tightening around Con's wrist and the redhead jumps instinctively, shying back even as Ty drags him forward, tensing for a fight... instinctively... but Ty only lays his free hand against his cheek, his touch tender and the smell of his cologne deepening as the blond runs his nose along his. His tense fight-or-flight instinct collides with the sudden memories of more tender moments, both further in the past and most recently and even right now... It confuses him, as always, the shivering rush of adrenalin... and the calming of it... resulting in a speeding pulse and a tight chest... He's never quite sure what this feeling is... sometimes it feels like the rush of... of love... other times just the rush of desire, in all it's kinky, fucked-up weirdness. Sometimes it makes him feel good... sometimes it makes him feel sick... Maybe he'd figure out which it was if he'd just stop... just once... just stop before he gets to this point... before he gives in... before he... kisses him. Before he lets himself get carried away. Before he pins the other to the nearest wall. Before he... before...
But there is no stopping once it starts...
It always happens like this... Like fighting himself... and then giving in. And it feels... good.
God help him...
It feels so good...
* * *
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
~James Arthur Baldwin
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
~Neil Gaiman
* * *
Love that is not madness is not love.
~Pedro Calderon de la Barca
"Where are you going? Ty! Come on," Con's fingers catch at Ty's elbow, sliding over the soft black cotton of his hoodie, smoother and finer than most, nicer than his, as the other snakes away, turning a corner just ahead of him, walking so fast he's nearly jogging trying to catch up, half-running down the hallway of his apartment building. "Come on, quit it, will you? What, are you mad at me or something?"
"Why would I be mad, Con?" Ty pauses for half an instant before he pulls open the door to the stairwell, turning the icy shiver of his glare on Con.
His lover's face is a mask of composure, but his eyes... he's not bothering to hide the annoyance; which is actually good - Con thinks - it bodes better than the alternative... it means that Ty wants him to know he's pissed. Con sighs at the sight however; no matter how good an omen, it's still irritating as hell whenever the blond pulls one of his hissy fits. "Come on, Christ! What was I supposed to say? She fucking hates you, you know that... She'd only worry if she knew I was with you. Ty... Ty!" Rushing forward, he manages to catch the stairwell door before it slams shut, hurrying after Ty, who's already halfway down the first flight of stairs. Maybe that wasn't the best thing he could have said, but dammit, it's the truth!
The blond pauses on the first landing, long enough to let Con catch up, turning back to him with his hands shoved in his skinny-black-jeans' pockets, body tense, "And am I going to be a secret, forever? You think I don't know what you're doing... why you don't tell your friends or your family about me? Make up all your fucking little excuses to sneak off with me, or make sure no one comes around when I'm at your place? If no one knows, it's like it's not real, right? You don't have to admit it to anybody - not even yourself - that you're with me." He just stands there glaring for a minute... clear-blue eyes as cold as ice and twice as clear... and for a moment, a shining fraction of a moment... flooded with emotion - anger and doubt and longing... and frustration. So much frustration... and confusion. So much... it bursts out of him in a gasping breath, "Fuck, Con! What the hell are we even doing?"
Ty's hand snaps out, the iron grip of slender fingers tightening around Con's wrist and the redhead jumps instinctively, shying back even as Ty drags him forward, tensing for a fight... instinctively... but Ty only lays his free hand against his cheek, his touch tender and the smell of his cologne deepening as the blond runs his nose along his. His tense fight-or-flight instinct collides with the sudden memories of more tender moments, both further in the past and most recently and even right now... It confuses him, as always, the shivering rush of adrenalin... and the calming of it... resulting in a speeding pulse and a tight chest... He's never quite sure what this feeling is... sometimes it feels like the rush of... of love... other times just the rush of desire, in all it's kinky, fucked-up weirdness. Sometimes it makes him feel good... sometimes it makes him feel sick... Maybe he'd figure out which it was if he'd just stop... just once... just stop before he gets to this point... before he gives in... before he... kisses him. Before he lets himself get carried away. Before he pins the other to the nearest wall. Before he... before...
But there is no stopping once it starts...
It always happens like this... Like fighting himself... and then giving in. And it feels... good.
God help him...
It feels so good...
* * *
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
~James Arthur Baldwin
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
~Neil Gaiman