Tumbling Down: PG/NC-17, Romance/Angst; Part 19
Part Nineteen
Two hundred forty-seven, two hundred forty-eight, two hundred forty-nine, two hundred fifty…
I stared at the tiles of my bedroom ceiling and contemplated purgatory.
Two hundred sixty-eight, two hundred sixty-nine, two hundred seventy, end. Like Sisyphus: one, two, three, four…
The apartment was quiet, Nikolai gone for a checkup examination at OSU. He had left around seven and I had lain in bed as he got dressed, feigning sleep, knowing that he wouldn’t try to wake me on a Saturday morning. I’d never done that before and it hurt that I did it then, but I just wasn’t able to face him. Not yet. Not after last night.
God, but it had been amazing. Slow and languid and tender and wonderful, and after so long without being able to touch him; without being touched…you almost cried from the pure ecstasy of it. Of having him back, with you, here, now.
I closed my eyes.
But then, after, long after he had fallen asleep, you wondered if the ulcer was back as you had to keep from running to the bathroom and throwing up, and you barely dared to try and sleep for fear the dreams that haunted you would return.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know how I would be able to look him in the eyes again.
I didn’t know if I could allow myself to touch him again.
My body, unconcerned with my disconsolate inner musings, was more and more loudly irritably reminding me that morning ablutions needed to be performed. With heavy limbs and a heavy heart I crawled out of bed, staggering to the bathroom to relieve myself. I shuddered away from even looking at the mirror while washing my hands, not wanting to see what my own eyes would tell me. Already knowing what they would tell me.
I had betrayed Nik in the worst way possible. There was no sugarcoating it, no pretending or deluding myself into believing otherwise. I had betrayed his trust. I was supposed to be taking care of him, helping him; guiding him gently along while he slowly regained his memories. Instead, I had taken advantage of him. He had wanted me, yes, but he didn’t really want ‘me’ because he didn’t know ‘me’. He didn’t remember me. Even worse, I didn’t feel as though I knew him anymore, and even with the near-familiar touches, the press of that familiar mouth against my skin-mentally, I had felt as though I was making love to a stranger.
And the worst part about it, the part that what made me want to tear myself to pieces for it was that, given the chance-I would still have done it.
It’s been too long. God, Nikky, it’s been too long. Do you know how much I’ve ached for you? Do you know what you do to me, how you make me feel? A touch from you, a word, a whisper, and I’d go to the ends of the earth to meet your need.
Breakfast was a half-hearted attempt to consume a bowl of cereal, which only made it halfway done before I was pushing it away with a decided lack of interest. I rinsed out my dishes, returned the milk to the refrigerator and the cereal to the cupboard, and sat back down at the table with a glass of water, staring at my hands clasped in front of me.
And I thought about letting him go.
I could see the changes in Nikolai. I could see the change as he became once more independent, self-assured, resilient; a little cocky, a lot feisty. I could see the shift from shy and uncertain to self-reliant and confident, and I could see the slow swing from being attached to me at the hip to going out and living his life as an individual once more.
I could see him steadily moving away from me, and as much as my heart screamed irrationally against it, I knew that it was exactly what should be happening.
And I knew that, irrevocably, I was holding him back.
He always hesitates before going out with the guys. There’s always that second of indecision, as he debates whether he should stay, when clearly he wants to go. How long are you going to act like a ball and chain to him? He’s getting what he needs, now-getting out, moving on, the guys being so much more helpful to him than you ever could be-while you’re still stuck in the past. Always stuck in the past.
You can’t let go of who he was, but can you let go of who he is now?
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against my knuckles, taking in a shaking, steadying breath. After all this time, after all these months of pain and grief and trials, after losing the person I cared the most for in life only to find him again, I felt as though my heart and mind and soul had been stretched thin to the point of breaking, battered and crushed and beaten down to nothing. My priorities in life had been turned upside-down and inside-out, and nothing was as it once was anymore. I felt lost in a sea of uncertainty that would soon make me drown, and I knew only one thing, just one thing, that I could say I still truly desired out of all of it. All that I wanted was for Nikolai to stay with me.
But I could no longer say that my wants weren’t hurting him.
As you clutch and cling to the former version of him that no longer exists, he’s trying to move on with a life left to him by a personality he doesn’t know. You’re keeping him from doing that, and it’s high time you recognized that fact.
Recognize it…and let him go.
The sun inched higher in the sky as I sat there at the kitchen table. I barely moved, as if leaving the cold wooden chair and disrupting the quiet in the apartment would shatter my resolve, and I couldn’t tell how much time passed. Seconds, minutes, hours. Too long and too short before I heard the key turning in the lock to the front door, familiar footsteps sounding on the foyer floor. I got slowly to my feet as they came closer, resting my hand on the table-using it for support as my legs shook beneath me.
Nikolai’s dark hair was windswept and mussed from the breeze outside, his grey eyes bright as he walked into the kitchen, and my resolve nearly broke right then and there.
“Hey there, sleepy,” he smiled, his grin like a gift from god as he started toward me. But after only a few steps he hesitated, slowed, stopped; reading the look on my face and the grin slipping from his lips as he saw the resolute look in my eyes.
“Sergei?” he asked softly. “Sergei, what…what’s wrong?”
“I…” my voice was hoarse and quiet and had none of the firmness I’d wished for, and I cleared my throat, digging my fingernails unnoticed into the wood of the table.
“This isn’t working, Nikky,” I forced out. His forehead creased in confusion and I barreled on, not wanting to let him interrupt until I was done-because I knew a word from him could send all of this to pieces.
“I-I think you should go,” I stuttered on. My lips felt as if they were being moved on their own; my face frozen into an expression of emotionless detachment as a bloody war waged on inside of me.
You can’t do this! part of me was screaming. You can’t let him go like this! He’s all that you have, all that you want, all that you need-don’t let him go, you can’t let him go-
But the cold certainty that had closed over my heart earlier was not to be deterred. I knew, without a doubt, that I would only end up hurting him; and that thought was what kept my mouth moving whilst my heart begged me desperately to stop. A shocked, dismayed expression stole over Nikolai’s face, and I had to avert my gaze from his.
I wasn’t able to meet those injured grey eyes.
“Nikky, I…”
I licked my lips, choking the words from my parched-dry mouth.
“I think you should move out.”
-
Two hundred forty-seven, two hundred forty-eight, two hundred forty-nine, two hundred fifty…
I stared at the tiles of my bedroom ceiling and contemplated purgatory.
Two hundred sixty-eight, two hundred sixty-nine, two hundred seventy, end. Like Sisyphus: one, two, three, four…
The apartment was quiet, Nikolai gone for a checkup examination at OSU. He had left around seven and I had lain in bed as he got dressed, feigning sleep, knowing that he wouldn’t try to wake me on a Saturday morning. I’d never done that before and it hurt that I did it then, but I just wasn’t able to face him. Not yet. Not after last night.
God, but it had been amazing. Slow and languid and tender and wonderful, and after so long without being able to touch him; without being touched…you almost cried from the pure ecstasy of it. Of having him back, with you, here, now.
I closed my eyes.
But then, after, long after he had fallen asleep, you wondered if the ulcer was back as you had to keep from running to the bathroom and throwing up, and you barely dared to try and sleep for fear the dreams that haunted you would return.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know how I would be able to look him in the eyes again.
I didn’t know if I could allow myself to touch him again.
My body, unconcerned with my disconsolate inner musings, was more and more loudly irritably reminding me that morning ablutions needed to be performed. With heavy limbs and a heavy heart I crawled out of bed, staggering to the bathroom to relieve myself. I shuddered away from even looking at the mirror while washing my hands, not wanting to see what my own eyes would tell me. Already knowing what they would tell me.
I had betrayed Nik in the worst way possible. There was no sugarcoating it, no pretending or deluding myself into believing otherwise. I had betrayed his trust. I was supposed to be taking care of him, helping him; guiding him gently along while he slowly regained his memories. Instead, I had taken advantage of him. He had wanted me, yes, but he didn’t really want ‘me’ because he didn’t know ‘me’. He didn’t remember me. Even worse, I didn’t feel as though I knew him anymore, and even with the near-familiar touches, the press of that familiar mouth against my skin-mentally, I had felt as though I was making love to a stranger.
And the worst part about it, the part that what made me want to tear myself to pieces for it was that, given the chance-I would still have done it.
It’s been too long. God, Nikky, it’s been too long. Do you know how much I’ve ached for you? Do you know what you do to me, how you make me feel? A touch from you, a word, a whisper, and I’d go to the ends of the earth to meet your need.
Breakfast was a half-hearted attempt to consume a bowl of cereal, which only made it halfway done before I was pushing it away with a decided lack of interest. I rinsed out my dishes, returned the milk to the refrigerator and the cereal to the cupboard, and sat back down at the table with a glass of water, staring at my hands clasped in front of me.
And I thought about letting him go.
I could see the changes in Nikolai. I could see the change as he became once more independent, self-assured, resilient; a little cocky, a lot feisty. I could see the shift from shy and uncertain to self-reliant and confident, and I could see the slow swing from being attached to me at the hip to going out and living his life as an individual once more.
I could see him steadily moving away from me, and as much as my heart screamed irrationally against it, I knew that it was exactly what should be happening.
And I knew that, irrevocably, I was holding him back.
He always hesitates before going out with the guys. There’s always that second of indecision, as he debates whether he should stay, when clearly he wants to go. How long are you going to act like a ball and chain to him? He’s getting what he needs, now-getting out, moving on, the guys being so much more helpful to him than you ever could be-while you’re still stuck in the past. Always stuck in the past.
You can’t let go of who he was, but can you let go of who he is now?
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against my knuckles, taking in a shaking, steadying breath. After all this time, after all these months of pain and grief and trials, after losing the person I cared the most for in life only to find him again, I felt as though my heart and mind and soul had been stretched thin to the point of breaking, battered and crushed and beaten down to nothing. My priorities in life had been turned upside-down and inside-out, and nothing was as it once was anymore. I felt lost in a sea of uncertainty that would soon make me drown, and I knew only one thing, just one thing, that I could say I still truly desired out of all of it. All that I wanted was for Nikolai to stay with me.
But I could no longer say that my wants weren’t hurting him.
As you clutch and cling to the former version of him that no longer exists, he’s trying to move on with a life left to him by a personality he doesn’t know. You’re keeping him from doing that, and it’s high time you recognized that fact.
Recognize it…and let him go.
The sun inched higher in the sky as I sat there at the kitchen table. I barely moved, as if leaving the cold wooden chair and disrupting the quiet in the apartment would shatter my resolve, and I couldn’t tell how much time passed. Seconds, minutes, hours. Too long and too short before I heard the key turning in the lock to the front door, familiar footsteps sounding on the foyer floor. I got slowly to my feet as they came closer, resting my hand on the table-using it for support as my legs shook beneath me.
Nikolai’s dark hair was windswept and mussed from the breeze outside, his grey eyes bright as he walked into the kitchen, and my resolve nearly broke right then and there.
“Hey there, sleepy,” he smiled, his grin like a gift from god as he started toward me. But after only a few steps he hesitated, slowed, stopped; reading the look on my face and the grin slipping from his lips as he saw the resolute look in my eyes.
“Sergei?” he asked softly. “Sergei, what…what’s wrong?”
“I…” my voice was hoarse and quiet and had none of the firmness I’d wished for, and I cleared my throat, digging my fingernails unnoticed into the wood of the table.
“This isn’t working, Nikky,” I forced out. His forehead creased in confusion and I barreled on, not wanting to let him interrupt until I was done-because I knew a word from him could send all of this to pieces.
“I-I think you should go,” I stuttered on. My lips felt as if they were being moved on their own; my face frozen into an expression of emotionless detachment as a bloody war waged on inside of me.
You can’t do this! part of me was screaming. You can’t let him go like this! He’s all that you have, all that you want, all that you need-don’t let him go, you can’t let him go-
But the cold certainty that had closed over my heart earlier was not to be deterred. I knew, without a doubt, that I would only end up hurting him; and that thought was what kept my mouth moving whilst my heart begged me desperately to stop. A shocked, dismayed expression stole over Nikolai’s face, and I had to avert my gaze from his.
I wasn’t able to meet those injured grey eyes.
“Nikky, I…”
I licked my lips, choking the words from my parched-dry mouth.
“I think you should move out.”
-