A Memory Seized
His head hurt, his heart more.
Never had he expected this.
Never would he have ever imagined this for his life.
If he could call it that anymore.
It was a mess.
It was in shambles.
It was barely worth living.
No, it really wasn't worth living.
He felt like dying.
Like killing himself.
He'd like to put an end to the embarrassment and shame.
He'd prefer to stop the humiliation and disgust from ever creeping up on him again.
He wanted to halt the feeling of unwanted touches that snuck in at the most inopportune times.
But above all else he needed to put an end to the pity.
The looks that almost made him feel as if he himself had done something wrong.
The apologies that left him uneasy; for they hadn't been at fault.
The same ones he had barely heard not two hours ago.
With a sigh full of self loathing Alec shifted himself so he'd be leaning on the opposite side of the window's sill.
For some vain reason he half expected Eliot to appear around that same corner he had vanished behind some time ago though deep down he knew it wouldn't happen.
Eliot was gone and he wasn't coming back; not now that he knew.
Seeing as it was always the same he couldn't really explain why he still hoped for different.
Eventually a poorly placed hand or a badly timed flashback revealed a sickening secret that had them running away from him far and fast.
Suddenly he wasn't suitable enough to be a companion or partner.
In their eyes he swiftly became broken and twisted.
Disgusting even for wanting to be with a man after what one had done to him.
There just wasn't the possibility that he could have come to terms with what had happened and still willingly chose to be gay.
No, because if that were the case than he must have secretly liked it.
Just the thought brought bile to his throat and had him doing his best not to gag.
Why had one event been given the power to shape him so?
Why should it decide if he was worthy of being wanted or of wanting someone in return?
Why did these men think they could judge his whole life and person on one thing that he'd had the misfortune of experiencing?
With a quick sniff Alec wiped at a tear he would never admit was there.
It wasn't fair.
A simple nightmare was all it had been but it'd managed to chase off yet another.
Though Eliot knew of nightmares, he himself had held the man through a few, so he should know that they were usually nothing more than far feared memories.
At least that's what he had thought because Eliot of all people would surely understand that a man was more than his demons right?
If only it had been so.
Instead he proved Alec to be immensely wrong by walking out the door with a horridly sympathetic pity painting his face.
He didn't hold him close and tell him it would be alright.
He didn't assure him that it didn't matter anymore.
Didn't swear that he'd stand guard to chase away any other reminder that dare come his way.
Eliot didn't do any of the things that he so hoped he would if ever he found out.
Heck, he hadn't even said good bye!
It was with anger that he finally decided to sit.
How dare Eliot judge him?
The man that walked around with more secrets than a spy.
How dare he criticize his life choices without even understanding his life?
The man that didn't share more than his name and age in fear of what others might think.
How dare he leave him?
The man that promised never to abandon him.
How dare he?
He felt betrayed.
As if he was something to be used and abused.
Something filthy and vile that was easily discarded.
He felt worthless.
No, he didn't feel worthless.
He was worthless.
A good for nothing unwanted piece of uselessness.
Something that no one would miss once it was gone.
Something that Eliot surely woul- "I'm sorry I left"
He nearly jumped out of his skin for how suddenly there was a whisper in his ear. "Eliot"
There wasn't a single sound being made throughout the whole place yet he still hadn't heard him enter.
"I shouldn't have gone like that." For a good while he'd simply watched the man.
Stood quietly as he tried to decide what words would merit his actions.
That was until he recognized the signs of self deprecation.
Whether he had the proper words or not he wouldn't stand by and allow Alec to do something like that to himself.
"Than why did you?" He kept himself guarded as he spoke.
Eliot walking out had been bad enough but now he actually had the nerve to come back in.
"I was mad." He admitted softly as he moved in front of Alec, who was surprisingly still sitting, to sit on the coffee table.
"You were mad?" His disbelief was clearer than crystal. "What right do you have to be mad!"
"Alec I wasn't mad at you," The offended look on his face said he had
somehow found accusation in that simple statement. "I was mad at the situation."
"The situation?" He looked down as a heavy hand was placed on his knee; a few of the knuckles displaying dried blood.
"Yeah the situation," Such news had started a slow bubble of absolute rage. "I don't like hearing that you were hurt."
"It…" Dare he say the sincerity in which Eliot was speaking made him feel the slightest bit cleaner. "It was a long time ago."
"But not long enough." The darkness in those eyes was more than just color.
It was a pain so fresh he could nearly feel it himself.
With a shake of his head he looked away.
He wouldn't tell Eliot that sometimes the memories were so strong it seemed like yesterday.
He couldn't tell him that the mere thought of those touches would send him into a spiral of depression and suicidal thoughts.
"Alec I know how you feel."
He shook his head with a vehement, "No you don't" no one knew how he felt.
"Yes I do." He gave Alec's knee a reassuring squeeze as he tried to catch his gaze. "I know how it feels to get hurt and how it is to wish that it had never happened. I understand how you wanna just will it away; crawl in a hole somewhere and forget anything ever existed." Alec's hand was now in his, squeezing ever so slightly. "I've been there myself. I've wanted to forget and I've hated myself for remembering. I've felt helpless and jaded and just plain wrong but in that time I've also felt respected and loved and I've come to learn that it's better to accept the wrong and embrace the right than it is to beat yourself up over somethin' that is long past your control."
"You've felt nasty?" Did he know what it was like to shower two or three times a day just to feel human?
"Alec, you're not nasty." And there was the spitefulness he knew all too well.
It was the type of unkindness that you'd only ever dare show to yourself.
"I'm gross," He didn't need Eliot's pity. He'd been playing the game long enough to know how it went. "Everyone's always thought so."
"Well than they were stupid." Eventually the self hatred would pass and when it did he'd be there with reason.
"That tainted and stained feeling; it's just guilt and once you stop blaming yourself I promise it'll go away."
"How can you be sure?" If he could he'd hold onto those assurances for dear life.
"Because I met someone who finally made the used to be's unimportant and suddenly I could
wash my hands and have them feel clean. I could look at them and not see the red they've been tinged with for years."
He flipped Eliot's hand to trace his fingers over the palm.
He didn't know what they had done but he did know one thing.
Those hands had never brought him anything other than happiness; a sense of safety and security.
"I'm not saying that you're broken or need to be fixed but I want to help you."
Hopefully Alec didn't get offended because he was offering way more of himself than he was comfortable with. "Just like you've helped me."
"You wanna help me?" Never had anyone ever offered him help.
"Yes," Eliot spoke genuinely. "If you'll let me."
With a confirmative nod he opened his arms and pulled Eliot into a bone shattering hug.
"I swear," He didn't dare move as Alec squeezed him for all he was worth. "It'll be alright."
Those words broke through the self hate he had long faced leaving a searing pain, but not an empty one.
After all these years someone was finally offering to help him; thought he was worth helping.
He had someone to stand guard; to hold him close and guarantee that it'd get better.
Finally it seemed like he was actually expelling some hurt and not drowning in it.
As if he could shed it instead of wallow in it.
It felt like he could breathe without the torturous weight of such a heavy burden.
And as Eliot vowed that yes he was indeed worth it and yes it was possible to move on an illuminating thought struck him.
It was better late than never.
