A/N: Ok, so here's the deal. These were originally meant to be drabbles/small ficlets that have turned into a series of small interconnecting moments. It changes tenses and goes from third-person to second-person in order to differentiate from past to present. Third person = present. Second person = past/flashbacks. Everything set in present time starts off with bolded sentences. Hope that makes sense! I don't have a beta, mistakes are my own. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: This is the work and play of fanfiction. I don't own anything. Everything belongs to their respective owners.
i will let her bleed all over me (she'll be a scar now)
He's sitting against the headboard of his bed, sheet draped across his lower body, as he watches the muscles in her back ripple underneath her bare skin while she sits on the edge of the bed putting on her shirt.
It almost feels like old times -when it was just he and she and moments like these; except those times meant something, these times he wishes they'd mean anything.
Jake stares at her as she moves around the room picking up her things from the floor that both, him and her, had tossed around the previous night in desperation. There's no denying that he finds her to be devastatingly beautiful. She always was, and he doesn't doubt that she will always be. He watches her, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can lover her, and he tell her this. She stops and turns to look at him; an odd expression playing on her features and before he can decipher what it means, it's gone.
A light chuckle escapes her, it almost sounds sad. He tries not to dwell on it.
"Wouldn't that be nice," she says.
It would, he thinks.
It should hurt. Faye words, mocking yet true. It's doesn't though, and he is okay with that. So he keeps his mouth shut as she walks out of his bedroom.
He can't help but let his mind linger back to the time he loved her, because he did love her once, and it'd be easy, wouldn't it? To fall back in love again, eventually. But then again he wasn't exactly in love with her he just loved her. It'd be easy still, and deep down they both know this, but that was then, and this, this is now, and now, his heart doesn't reside inside his chest but in a grave six feet under ground.
They both know this.
. . .
She's all soft skin, long limbs, and sweet kisses; and you think that you might just have died and gone to heaven - or wherever your kind ends up in the after life because this is un-fucking-real.
The pleasure… the love… It's all so intense… so palpable, it's suffocating. Your lungs are burning and your muscles are aching and you feel like your coming undone from the inside out. It's excruciatingly painful in the most delicious of ways; it almost makes your teeth ache. Never in a millions years did you think it would ever feel this way, and if this is you dying, you'd die over and over again.
She's underneath you… inside of you… all over you. The skin on her legs are burning holes through your sides, squeezing, wrapping. She's clouding your senses and you still can't get enough of her. You don't think you ever will. It's not sufficient when you bury you face in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent, or when she wraps her bare legs around your naked hips and pushes up. She's killing you, and bringing you back to life all at once and fuck, you think you've just stopped breathing as she gyrates her hips against yours and clenches her thighs that are already wrapped around you. All you can do is hold on to her for dear life because this, this is everything - and it feels like burning, a fire engulfing you and you love it.
She runs her fingertips tenderly down the column of your spine, and the contrastive gentle act causes a shiver to run down your back. She's going to be the end of you, and you know it, and you welcome it.
You close your eyes and whisper sweetly in her ear, I love you, and you do. Gods, you really do. She repeats the words, all breathy and wispy but grounding, and that's all it takes for you to fall apart.
You watch her as she sleeps next to you. She's so serene and so good, and you can't help but wonder how an unfortunate bastard like you got so lucky. She's the epitome of beauty and grace and kindness and selflessness. You on the other hand, are the exact opposite; you're cruel and greedy and selfish and temperamental. It's a cliché really, you and her, but you take it because you wouldn't be you if you didn't. You're a selfish bastard after all.
Diana shifts and wraps her arm around your middle, pulling you away from your mind.
You watch her, and now that you've had her, you'll be damned if you ever let her go. It's not like you can, really. She's deep inside you, carved within your bones, flowing through your veins. You realize this, and you want to laugh, because you're in real deep. There's no going back from this point, not that you've thought about it in all honesty.
The even funnier (cruel) part is: she breaks you apart from the inside out and she doesn't even know.
Yeah, you're screwed.
. . .
It started like this:
You say something and she debunks it. You offer another option and she doesn't agree. You turn to her and ask her what the hell her problem is? It comes out a sneer more so than anything else and she gets angry. Good, you think. Angry people you can handle. Angry people are easily manipulated into offering information willingly, a little push here; a little push there and they're spilling their guts out in no time.
She stares at you and you can see she's flustered that you've called her out. She glares at you and tilts her chin upward just a few inches, a challenge. You smirk. It's her, so it surprises you but you don't show it. Instead, you take a second to think about it, but really, what is there to think about? You've always been intrigued by her and so you take it. You want to see what she's made of... what makes her tick. What's the worst that can happen? After all, she's all kindness and consideration and could never be cruel, so you push and push and push. You want to see what's underneath all of that. You want to break her down.
It ends like this:
She's blinking back tears and finally pushing you out of the way so that she can go out the door. You're sighing and kicking yourself mentally; you're such a fucking prick. This never crossed your mind, and, maybe that's the problem. You assumed there was more to her, something else, a lie, a truth, a twisted dark secret underneath, but, no. She's exactly as she presents herself to be. It's kind of unexpected. You were always good at bringing out the worst in people.
So, as you watch her retreating form you wish there had been more than what she presents herself to be because then, you wouldn't be feeling like you've wronged her. Like you've taken something from her. She's not afraid to be, and your envious because nowadays you can't just be, you have to have ulterior motives one way or the other. She doesn't... she won't... she's more than you had expected for.
You should probably go after her, but you don't.
. . .
You don't believe in love at first sight. You do, however, believe in something chemical transfusing through the air when you make eye contact with that person. It's either there, or it isn't.
The first time you see her, again, is at the boathouse. She's talking with Cassie, and as you walk up to them and your eyes meet hers for the first time in such a long while, everything just clicks into place. Something shifts - tilts your world off its axis and you just know that this girl is going to mean something more. Then again, Diana Meade has always been so much more. Such a shame that a reunion has to occur under these morbid circumstances. Another time, another place, maybe...
You notice how she shies away from you as Adam begins to speak to you. She spares glances in your direction every once in a while from beneath her eyelashes as she goes from looking down at the table to looking up at you. You try not to smirk, you can tell she's a little flustered by your presence and somehow that makes her that much more alluring to you. Not the time, you think. There's a reason why you're back in town and it doesn't include her, well, it does, just not in the manner you would've hoped for.
Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and soon you find yourself in way too deep. You've developed something with Cassie and it's an understanding more so than anything else. With Faye as well, except with her it's always been complicated and you understand each other too, it's just more of the physical kind. Melissa and yourself have an unspoken and undeniable connecting, Nick. A stalemate has placed you and Adam in a position where neither will be trying to kill the other. And, that leaves you and Diana, well, just you and Diana. No bonding sessions, no unnecessary talks, no special unexpected friendship, no nothing. You try and let it not affect you so much.
You're mulling all of this over on a street bench in town. Pathetic.
You glance across the street and catch a glimpse of her as she rounds the corner.
"It's probably best to change that," you murmur as she goes into the coffee shop. After all you have a plan, and in order for it to succeed, you need ALL of them trust you. Right? Right.
You keep repeating that to yourself as you cross the street and the bell dings to makes your presence known inside as you walk in.
(You know you're lying.)
. . .
Well, this is dangerous.
She pushes you against the door as soon as it closes and stands on the balls of her feet to press her lips to yours. You slant your mouth over hers and squeeze her waist before twirling your bodies so that her back is against the door instead.
One of her hands snakes up and wraps around the nape of your neck to pull you even closer. The other fists the side of your shirt. She presses her body firmly against yours and your hands skim down her sides towards her lower back. They trail down to knead her ass before you lean down enough to hoist her up by the back of her thighs. She wraps her legs around your hips and you step forward, pressing her further into the door.
Heat meets heat and you jerk your hips into hers as she arches further into you. She breaks the kiss and throws her head back as a low moan escapes through her lips.
Every movement she makes is pulling at you, frying your nerve ends, dragging you closer. It's torturous.
You move your mouth down her neck and trail open mouth kisses across, sucking gently on her pulse. Her hand moves from your nape up into our hair and her fingers tangle in it, fisting and pulling enough to cause you to hiss in sweet torturous pleasure. You suck harder and her other hand roams across your back, nails raking over your shirt.
She tugs at your hair backwards and covers your mouth with hers.
You can make out faint noise through the haze and something is nagging at you in the back of your mind to put an end to this but you're too caught up in the moment, too wrapped up in her to care. It isn't until there's banging on the door that you break the kiss. You're both having a difficult time breathing.
You can hear Faye yell explicits on the other side of the door and you chuckle as Diana's cheeks turn even redder.
She wraps both her arms around you and buries her face in the crook of your neck, gently planting a sweet kiss to it. You kiss her temple in return as you let her down so that she can stand on her own legs, wrapping your arms around her waist in the process.
She moves her head and tilts it up to look up at you through her lashes. Her face is flushed and her lips are swollen and she's never looked more beautiful to you.
You gently tug the tips of her hair that fall down her back and she grins. Something swells deep within you and it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're in love with her.
Before either of you gets the opportunity to say something there's another bang on the door followed by a crack.
She untangles herself from your grasp, but not before planting another kiss to your chin, and turns to open the door and walks out.
You watch her retreating form and can't help but think that, this is dangerous.
You smirk at the endless possibilities that cross your mind.
. . .
The water is almost scorching hot as it pours over him. He presses his hands against the tiled-wall in front of him and tilts his head downward, letting the water cascade down his back. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, hoping… praying… something… that it will wash away his memories.
(It won't. He knows this.)
. . .
She's sitting on the curb, tears streaming down her face, when you find her.
You don't even know how you got here, just that you had decided to take a walk earlier and somehow wound up here.
It's such a strange sight. You almost want to look away but can't, because, even while it's heartbreaking to see her cry, it's absolutely ethereal and captivating. But maybe that's all her. And, now you sound like an asshole for thinking she's even more stunning when she cries. It's true, though. There's something so alluring about her that even her sadness pulls you in.
You watch as she closes her eyes and buries her head in her lap. It feels like your intruding on a private moment, like you've stumbled upon a secret, and you realize that you are. Your breath catches in your throat and you turn sideways, ready to walk away but a soft, broken, 'please', reaches your ears. You turn to look at her and the fact that she has her face buried in her lap still tells that she hasn't noticed you. Realizing a heavy sigh, you rake your fingers through your hair. You throw your head back, look up at the dark sky, and mutter a, 'help me', before you start heading in her direction.
She looks startled to see you when you sit next to her without uttering a word. You stretch your legs in front of you, lean back on the palms of your hands, and stare out at the street strewn ahead of you as you contemplate what to say to her. She's studying your profile, you can tell from your peripheral and it's making you a bit unnerving that you clear your throat.
You tilt your head in her direction and meet her gaze.
"I thought you might want some company. You looked like you might've needed it. But, if you want to be alone I can-" You make as if your going to stand up but the hand on your forearm stops you. She tightens her grip and her fingers dig deep into your skin. You wonder if they left an imprint. It wouldn't be the first place she left one.
"Don't go. Please." Her voice is desperate and you hate that something has made her this upset. If only because you two have now come to an unspoken agreement in which you are friends (lie, lie, lie), but if anyone dares to ask you'd deny it like your life depended on it. You resume the same position as before, next to her.
You're both engulfed in a tranquil silence when she decides to break it. There are no tears in her eyes but there's a sadness in her voice that penetrates your soul. Somehow she's able to wrap you up in her emotions, to make you feel. It's breathtaking, because no one has ever made you feel that way before.
"He left."
It doesn't take a genius to know who he is. Grant. That stupid guy with that stupid accent and his even more ridiculous promises. You never say this out loud, but you're glad he's gone. You just hate that him leaving has a ripple effect.
You exhale sharply and turn to look at her. She has her knees pulled up to her chin as she stares forward, towards the empty street. The light from the streetlamp behind her casts a shadow on her profile, it creates and almost halo outlining her whole body. Your broken angel. What you wouldn't do for her.
You lean into her side and bump your elbow to hers.
"He never deserved you in the first place," you whisper, like an almost secret. Because, really it's no secret that no one in this retched town deserves her but she doesn't know it. So it's like confessing the unknown.
'But, I… I…' You, least of all, deserve her.
The unshed tears glistening in her eyes when she turns to look up at you. An upward sad tilt of her lips is adorning her face. It's a start, you think.
. . .
You both find yourselves here again. This time she finds you sitting on the curb.
It's dark, almost past midnight, and it's drizzling. The air is cold and you can see your breath form in front of you when you exhale deeply into it.
She sits next to you. You don't understand why she came looking for you. Sure, you just left Cassie's house as soon as she announced that her and Adam were together… You turn to look at her and the way her eyebrows are furrowed together and pity swirls in her brown orbs… you throw your head back and laugh. She thinks-. You laugh and you laugh and you can see that you've offended her but it's impossible not to find it humorous. She thinks you still have feelings for Cassie. Hilarious.
She huffs and frowns at you, gives you a look that says she clearly thinks you've finally lost your mind. And, maybe you have. You watch as she rolls her eyes. "Fine. Have it you way then."
She stands up and you reel in your laughter and cough as you get up behind her. She's stomping down the sidewalk, with you trailing behind her.
"Diana. Diana, wait."
You jog the distance in-between and grab her upper arm, tugging lightly so that she stops and turns to face you.
"Why, so that you can laugh at me some more?" She snaps, yanking her arm from your hold on it.
After clearing your throat you say, "I wasn't laughing at you," trying to explain your sudden spurt of madness.
"Oh, really?" She questions skeptically while crossing her arms across her chest.
You incline your head down a bit so that your face hovers slightly above hers.
In all seriousness you say, "really."
She drops her arms back to her sides and the rigidness in her shoulders eases, almost as if that one word washed it all away. Could it be? Could this mean?
Your gaze drops down to her lips. They look soft and make you wonder what it would feel like if you kissed them.
Her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and you lift your hand to her face and skim your fingers across her cheekbone, into her humid hair.
"I would never laugh at you, Di."
Her eyes flutter closed. You step further into her personal space and tilt her head upwards.
"Then?" She questions, her voice just above a whisper.
"Does it matter?" You say, your voice deep in desperation. Because you need to know, you need her to say it.
You don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the lines you developed feelings for her. And you've both been flirting with the notion of something more, and if you cross this line, well, there's no going back. So you press the question.
"Say it, Diana. Say. It."
Her eyes snap open.
"Yes," she breathes out.
With your free hand you push the strands of hair obscuring her face back and tuck them behind her ear. You're eyes roam over her face, looking for something, anything that might contradict her words. There is nothing.
"I was laughing because you're a pretty little fool." She parts her lips and you press your finger against them, silencing her before she got the opportunity to interrupt you. "Let me finish." She huffs and nods. "The idea that you thought I left Cassie's because she announced her relationship with Adam… because you thought I still had feelings for her, is ridiculous. We both know that's not true. Don't we, Di?" she nods after a few seconds and you continue, "We've been playing this game for some time now, and honestly, I'm tired. So, here it is. It's your choice. But, just know that if we do this, we go all the way. There will be no turning back. It's all or nothing."
You remove your finger from her lips and cup her face in both your hands. At least she's not pulling away.
She stares up at you and it feels like an eternity, like you've just jumped off an airplane and are suspended in mid-air waiting for the moment your parachute will save you or if you'll just end up free-falling hard and fast into the ground below.
Her lips are on yours before you know it. There's a swelling sensation building up in your chest and you think you might burst. You tilt your head and deepen the kiss.
This is it, you realize. There's no going back.
This is what you've been waiting for.
(The rain begins to pour harder, washing away everything from before for a fresh new start.)
. . .
She's the first to find out and to confront you about it.
"Is it true?"
You glance at her over your shoulder as you sit on your bed. She's standing under the archway of your bedroom door, hand on the doorknob.
"Well?" she presses.
You sigh as you stand up and turn your whole body to face her. The disbelief in her eyes breaks you. She still has hope that it's all been a lie. That you would never do what the others have told her. But, slowly it starts dawning on her. After all, your silence always spoke louder than anything else.
"Tell me it isn't true?" she pleads, voice cracking at the end, taking two steps further into the room.
You walk around your bed and come to a stop in front of her. There are unshed tears shinning in her eyes and your silence is saying everything you'd wish you had the strength to admit to. She deserves the truth. Instead you let her go as she walks out of your room with the knowledge you had tried to bury.
The second reason why you had originally come back to Chance Harbor: to destroy the circle. To end them (her).
. . .
She comes to you in the dead of the night; tear-stained cheeks and grief-stricken mind because, "I didn't know where else to go."
It's been close to two weeks since you've seen her… since she walked out of your bedroom with the knowledge of your original betrayal. Yet, here she is. Standing over you as you lay in bed. Something's off, you can sense it, see it in her eyes. It hovers over her like a dark shadow, blending in with the darkness that already surrounds her, threatening to consume her whole. You will never allow it.
You sit up and throw your feet over the edge and she sits next to you. You wrap your arm around her shoulders and she buries her face in the crook of her neck. She begins to sob and all you can do is hold her, whisper soothing words into her hair and pray her tears subside. You have never been to stand to see her cry.
Time passes, it feels like hours later but the alarm clock that's placed on computer table says it's only been about thirty minutes that have passed from when she walked into your room.
You feel her shift in your embrace and close your eyes, bracing yourself for what's coming next. It never comes. Instead, her lips are teasing the skin on your neck. Placing nimble kisses, scraping her teeth against your skin gently, and soothing it after with her tongue. A low moan escapes your lips and it brings you out of the reverie she's created in your mind. You take her by her upper arms, push her and hold her at bay.
You bore your green eyes into her brown ones and tell her, "I can't do this."
Her eyes go wild and she pulls away to stand. She looms over you, bottom lip caught between her teeth. The silence lingers in-between and it's driving you crazy.
"I won't do this. Not like this. Diana," you sigh as you stare up at her, "I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner. I was afraid. I am so sorry. Sorry, that you had to find out through someone else. That I didn't have the strength to say something about it. I was afraid to lose you. You're the only good thing in my life. Please. Please, forgi-."
She cuts you off by stepping closer and placing her lips on yours. She cradles your face in her hands and tilts it upwards as she straddles you as well. Your hands settle on her hips, fingers stretching out for a firmer hold.
When breathing becomes a necessity she breaks the kiss and presses her forehead to yours. Yours hands skim up her sides, over her back and one settles on her lower back while the other between her shoulder blades.
"Don't let me go," she murmurs between breaths.
"Never."
You won't.
. . .
It's her birthday and your one-year anniversary and you've planned something special in the woods.
You pick her up at her house and as she steps out, she bounds over to your truck and gets in. She pecks you lightly before settling in her seat and putting on her seatbelt.
She's beaming and it's contagious. You can't help the wide smile that has settled on your lips.
There's a devilish glint in her eyes when she leans over and whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear in the process, "I have a surprise for you."
You snap your attention to her, she's smiling innocently back at you and it only makes your throat go dry.
Before you get the opportunity to say anything, something catches your attention from your peripheral and you set your gaze back on the road.
It's too late.
The car is swerving off the road too fast.
You can hear her yelling.
Everything is swirling.
You can't stop it.
It goes dark.
It's too late.
'Diana.'
. . .
Three weeks later you wake up in the hospital. The first thing to come to mind is Diana. You try to sit up so that you can go find her but your wrists and ankles are bound to the bed you're in. You begin to tug at your restraints as nurses rush in. You're yelling at them to unbind you. You have to find her, go to her. They calmly tell you to relax and it only manages to piss you off. You begin to thrash when Mr. Meade, Mrs. Chamberlain, and Faye walk in.
You plead with them to do something but Ms. Chamberlain only repeats what the nurses have already told you.
Where's Diana? You yell. You need to see her, to know if she's ok.
Guilt, heartbreak, and sympathy are the only response.
"I'm sorry, Jake." Faye chokes out and Mr. Meade walks out.
No. No.
You thrash even more before everything goes dark.
. . .
His fingers brush against the tombstone with a feather-like touch.
He releases a shuddering breath as he crouches in front of it, eyes roaming over the carved words.
Diana Meade
Loving daughter, cherished friend.
Forever in our hearts, you will be missed.
'Terribly,' he thinks as he settles the red roses on the ground.
Memories flood into his bloodstream unceremoniously and he jolts up to stand on his two feet. The wound may have healed on the outside but the pain is still too raw inside of him and he doesn't think it will ever subside. He hopes it won't, it's the only thing that let's him know he's still alive and not buried underneath with her.
Jake senses her before he sees her. She stands next to him and stares at the tombstone before crouching down to place white lilies next to the red roses. She stands up, and steps in line with him once more.
Faye slips her hand into his and squeezes it in offered comfort. He lets it hang loosely in his grip before letting it go completely. It falls back to her side as he buries both his hands in the pockets of his coat. He sniffs before clearing his throat, "I'll only end up breaking your heart again."
He turns and walks away, leaving her there to pick of the pieces of her already shattered heart.
"You're only a scar now, but he still lets you bleed," she mumbles before turning and heading in the opposite direction.