An Aaron and Jackson story post train crash. Just how much can you deal with before you fall apart and do something you may just regret forever?
Word Count: 6850
Feedback/comments/reviews would be most appreciated :)
I couldn't keep my hands from shaking as I unlocked the door and pushed my way inside. The bile building and rising inside me, threatening to escape from my dry mouth. I looked down at my shoes, my jeans as I quickly passed the mirror leading into the kitchen in Smithy. I was being quiet enough not to wake anyone. Not to wake him, I was sure. But ever since... ever since what happened, it's like his other senses have become heightened. You only have to drop a pin somewhere and he knows about it.
I close my eyes as I stand still in the kitchen. My bruised knuckles, still red, raw with blood as I turn to run the cold water tap. Splashing my face with the coolness, then my hand – I'd hit a wall again. And yet I hadn't felt any pain when my fist connected with the bricks. Is that what he went through? How he used to feel? Nothing? No pain, no feeling anywhere? I needed to be able to get to that place as well. In my own head where I couldn't feel anything either. Block all this stuff out. I wanted to hit oblivion, never mind a wall. Numb the pain. The constant fucking sadness that just seems to engulf me these days. I needed to be able to forget. And I know it's my fault. I know that every last bit of all of this is down to me being such a fuck up. A head wrecker. A nut job. I see that every day when I look in the mirror, which I can barely bring myself to do. I see it when I look into his eyes. As I talk to him. Hold him, move him about. Try to make him comfortable in order for him to be able to face another day. Because, that's all we're doing here – just trying to get through another day together. At first it was minutes, that turned into hours. Now, we live day by day. And I'm trying to be everything he needs, I really am. But, I'm not good enough, am I? I'm clearly not what he needs. And I don't think I ever will be.
At first, despite everything, we coped. Yeah it was difficult, but we coped. There was still the odd day that I could laugh, could still smile. And there was hope. Months of hard work. Rehabilitation. Work. Really hard work. There'd be days when he was so exhausted... so frustrated that he wasn't getting anywhere that it was painful to watch. To see. But the perseverance paid off. And he gradually got the movement back in his arms. And there were days when we could laugh and joke together. Be the 'us' that we used to be. That friendly banter when I knew that underneath all of the pain we were still the same. We were still Aaron and Jackson. And then there were other days, so bleak, dark and desperate. I don't think I ever understood pain until I saw him struggle so much. His mind so razor sharp but his body failing him, time and time again as he fought for that movement and I was fighting my very own battles – against my demons. Trying to be everything he needed. His lover, his friend, his carer, his everything.
But I lost me. Along the way somehow I just... stopped existing. It became all about him. His recovery. His fight. His battle. And that's ok. That's fine. That's how it should be. But me. Us even. We got lost along the way. I stayed by his side. Helped him. But the blame. That thing that we just don't say. The fact that despite everything. His legs aren't getting any better. And I can't change that. I can be here. I try. But I can't fix him.
The tears well up in my glazed over, deep blue eyes. At first I fight letting the huge drops fall. But, yet again, it's another fight I'm never going to win. I crumble. I sob and as my hands keep shuddering and shaking, I try to pour myself a glass of water but end up hunched over the sink, retching. My insides feeling like they're on fire as I'm sick. My whole body contorting as I feel ready to collapse. To curl up into a little ball. To die. I don't deserve life. To breathe air. Not after what I've just done. I need to be able to scrub myself clean. I need to be able to forget again.
"Good night, was it?"
I turn to see him. His sturdy, electronic, wheelchair fixed to the floor in the archway as his steely, dark brown pools stare up at me.
I turn from him. Breaking the eye contact as I'm sick for a second time.
"I'll take that as a yes, then! Overindulged a bit too much did we?" Jackson jokes lightly, his voice hardly audible. And that just makes me feel worse. Because he can still smile. Despite everything he never stops smiling. But me? I had to go and drink myself into oblivion in order to just get through another day. I want to check what the time is. I seem to have lost track of everything in the last few hours. And every part of me has started to ache and hurt. I ball my hands back into fists as I slam them down on the sideboard just beside the sink and watch the bruises begin to form.
"Where did you end up in the end then?" Jackson goes on.
I can hardly turn my head to look at him. I feel numb. Devoid of all emotion as I sink to my knees in front of him. To force myself to be on his eye level. My throat aches. My stomach in tight, deep knots and the room begins to spin around like a massive whirlwind. And, so I don't know what's real any more. What just happened. What the truth is behind all the tiny lies that we tell ourselves daily just so we can live with ourselves.
"Aaron..."
"Can I buy you a drink or something?" I turn my head slightly to look at the bloke stood at the bar beside me. He's about my height, brown hair, huge brown, saucer eyes, dressed in black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Can't even remember seeing him in here before, not that I've been here much since...well, since before. He's speaking in a South London accent, chewing gum and he's got a light covering of dark, brown stubble across his chin. Full, pink lips, his white vest top clearly visible beneath his jacket. I put my head in my hands as I try to grunt a response back at him. Does it look like I fucking want a drink? I roll my eyes at my own thoughts. Downing another shot from the line the barman has already set up for me.
"Do one!" I manage to say. I haven't got time for pleasantries or conversation. I came here to forget.
I almost let out a small laugh to myself at that thought. Why the hell did I think I could come here to forget? The place that I first saw him. The place where we first met? However much I drink tonight, it isn't going to be enough. I've still got his words ringing in my head as I nearly ripped the door off its hinges and fled from him tonight. He told me he didn't need me. That I was always in his face. That he can still do certain things for himself. It just blew up from nowhere. I never used to be able to control myself when I lost my head but lately I thought I was getting better. Turns out I'm still a total mentalist. Jackson held back from saying the fucking obvious though – that him being in that chair and not being able to walk was all my fault. No – Saint fucking Jackson would never say that, would he? He'd never tell me what he really thinks. And they say I'm the emotional cripple out of the two of us. Seems like we make a very good couple in that respect.
"Just leave it will you Aaron. I don't need you bloody spoon feeding me!"
"I wasn't, I was..."
I stare at him in bewilderment as he backs his chair away from me. His features creasing as his face becomes flustered.
"I can do certain things for myself alright. You know I can!"
"Alright, calm down, mate!"
"You're telling me to calm down, that's a good one!"
"And what does that mean? Where's all this come from?" I stand there in front of him. Hands curled into fists that I try resting onto my hips.
"I was watching out the window earlier when you were arguing with Carl. You never learn do you? Hit out, ask questions later. If you'd just paid Mickey back his money like I told you too..."
He breaks off his words, looking downwards with his eyes onto his lap as he bites his lip. Reversing his chair a little way.
"What did you just say?" I try so desperately to keep my already fraying temper.
"Nothing... just forget it..."
'No go on.'
'All I'm trying to say is that I don't need you in my face all the time treating me like some... some fucking kid..." He finally explodes.
"That's not all you were saying and we both know it!" I snarl back at him. "At least have the guts to tell me the truth!"
"You can't handle the truth, you never have been able to!" He fires back at me in an instant. "You just need a way for all of this..." He points to the wheels of his chair as he looks up at me once more. "All of this to be about you. Poor Aaron who's boyfriend is a cripple and can't do anything for himself. Poor Aaron whose life has been turned upside down and never gets a moment to himself. Poor Aaron who never gets any these days..."
"You're a bastard!" I can't help but mutter as I push my way past his chair.
"Yeah and now he wishes he could hit me..." Jackson calls after me as I find myself grabbing my hoodie from the coat hook in the hallway, opening the door, the anger and rage building up inside of me. I can't be here. I can't be around him to listen to that. So I do what I always do when things get tough. I run.
My throat burns as I knock back more alcohol. Dulling my senses and loosening my mind. Clearing my thoughts and setting me free of all the turmoil that is threatening to floor me. I can't cry any more. What's that all about? Especially as I don't know who I'm crying for any more. Myself or him.
"I'm Ben..." I look to see that guy is still stood there. Rooted to the spot. I look his toned, taut body up and down. His clearly defined abs poking out through the cut of his white vest – and I have to look away. I chew on my bottom lip. Playing with my tongue in the side of my mouth as I suddenly struggle to breathe. I don't want to know his name, do I?
"That guy was so cruising you?"
"Yeah right!"
"Why not? I mean you're not that bad looking are you?"
And then he kissed me for the first time. Jackson's soft lips on mine. The light covering of his soft beard brushing over my stubble as we joined our mouths together. And it felt like someone was breathing new life into me for the first time. That this was what I had been waiting for my whole life and now he was here, he was going to show me everything. His tongue pushing gently inside my willing mouth for the briefest of moments until he pulled away. His strong hand around my trembling neck as we broke contact. Jackson was always so gentle. Like he worshipped me and my body. And I miss that. I miss the way we were. What we shared together. Being so intimate with him as he laid me down. His soft kisses on my skin as every sinew in me prickled with excitement as he joined us together. I miss him. I miss him so much.
I let Ben talk at me for a while. Having a fair idea where it was heading but not even wanting to admit it to myself. I wasn't listening. I knocked back more shots, moving onto beer. I chanced sideways glances at him. Even I knew he was good looking. I let myself be led by him. I made that decision. That choice. I knew exactly what I was doing as he pushed me backwards into the cubicle. Pushing the door shut firmly with his pixie boots and locking it behind us.
His mouth was on mine in an instant. His soft tongue pushing into my mouth wildly as I opened my mouth to grant him access. His hands holding me firmly in place, up against the wall as our hands grabbled with clothes, the urgency to see bare skin, to touch, to taste, to fondle was intense. I wanted him, no, needed him to do whatever was in his mind to me. My heart was beating so fast it was like it was about to break out of my chest, as his mouth dropped to suck on my neck. I fought with his belt buckle, gaining access quickly as his impressive erection jumped out on me. I had never done this before. Such a gay fucking cliché as well, isn't it? In a fucking toilet in some dive of a club. It's probably all I'm fit for. All I deserve. All that's down for me now for the rest of my life and I should be scared and I know I should run now. Back to where I'm safe. Back to the bloke that knows me, needs me and loves me. But, I've come too far for that now and as I let Ben take my hard on in his hand, he breaks from the attention his kisses have been giving my neck and looks back at me. His eyes, needy, desperate, hungry and full of want. For me. He actually wants me. And this turns me on even more, gets me harder immediately as his hands begin to stroke my length, up and down. Pulling back the foreskin subtly to reveal the glistening head as his hand moves faster and quicker.
I close my eyes as I give in to the sensation. Begging the alcohol to keep on working. Hoping that I don't see that other face. It's a losing game. I bite down hard on my lip as I feel my balls heavy as his mouth is on mine again as I breathe two words into his mouth, sending vibrations of excitement through both of us as we writhe and moan together.
"Fuck me!"
His hands are gripping into me so tightly, I'm sure he's leaving his imprints on my skin as he rips my black jeans downwards, past my hips and to my knees, gaining him access to my arse. I brace my hands across my head, using them as a pillow to the cold, dank, wall. As I feel his hot breath on my skin. Nibbling at my ear, his mouth licking my lobe as he huskily whispers.
"I'm gonna make you forget your own name!"
Good! My mind tries to process what is happening. What he's saying. To try and get some pleasure out of this. Because this is what I want. The unbridled lust and passion. I just want him to 'do me'. Feel his hot body on mine. Our flesh meeting and coming together. It's just sex and I want it now. Everything he's got. Right here and now. And I want to forget my own name. I don't want to be me anymore. To have all these fucking feelings that I don't know what to do anything with. Not anymore. I hate who I am. Who I've become even more. Because I've let someone in. I tried so hard not to as well. To try to be the one taking and getting what I wanted out of the relationship. How did I end up needing Jackson anyway? Wanting him? Desiring him. How did I ever get in so deep that I fell for him? That was never supposed to happen. If you let people in, let them close, then you give them the power to really hurt you and I was desperate and so sure that was never going to happen. Because sooner or later, everyone leaves you anyway. The only person you can really rely on in this life when things get tough is yourself. I'll always be on my own. I know it.
There's hardly any preparation but I don't want any. I don't want him to be gentle. To care. I want it as rough and as hard as he can do it. I want it to fucking hurt. I need to feel that pain, like he's practically ripping me in two. I bite down hard on my arm as his hard cock enters me. Not allowing myself to scream or cry out with the sharp, intense pain that's ripping through me. He pulls out and then slams into me again. And that pain is replaced by something else as he finds and hits my spot, sending a wave of euphoric pleasure through my shuddering body. Making me see stars. Reminding me of what I've been missing. His arm is wrapped around my waist as his hand seeks out my weeping cock. Gripping it tightly in the palm of his hand as he squeezes and fondles my balls, pulling and tugging on them as he begins to jerk me off. Our breathing hard, ragged and frenzied as he slams his hips into me again and again. Harder, deeper and more violently with every stroke as I push my arse back to meet his demands. We're on a collision course together. Riding the wave. He knows exactly how to touch me it seems. His mouth is licking patterns on my neck as he pounds my arse. Our breathing matching every move he's making. Every stroke of his hand and I feel myself shudder and shake just that little bit more until I know I'm close to reaching the end. I close my eyes as I feel myself come over his hand, wave after wave, flooding both of us and knocking the wind out of my body as I struggle to breathe, to keep upright as he continues slamming his cock deep inside of me, he's almost breaking me. But I want that. I don't want him to show me one ounce of mercy. I want him to shatter me. It's all I deserve. He almost does, bending me over roughly as he switches his angles, opening me up even more as he thrusts his hips, shifting his weight around as he grunts and moans down my ear. And the tears fall freely now down my face as it hits me what I'm doing. When he comes – it's a relief. He fills the condom, pulling me even closer to him as he bites down on my neck. Marking me and drawing blood I'm sure. I'm past caring. I just need to get out of here. Away from him and away from this place. My whole body feels like it's on the brink of collapse as his strong arms hold me upright. I can't look at him. I can't turn in his arms, but I need to flee. I'm out of breath as I come down from my orgasm. I can hardly see straight. He pulls out of me, pulling the condom off his dick and flushing it down the toilet as my chest exhales and I turn to look at the man that's just fucked me.
"We should do this again sometime..." He mutters, as my blue eyes meet his chocolate flavoured brown ones.
I can't even say anything. I try to push past him. Pulling up my jeans and straightening my hoodie as I go to unlock the cubicle door.
"Just call me alright!" He goes on as I stop still on the spot, almost trance-like. I finally look at him. He takes out a bit of paper from one of his pockets and scribbles down his number. Curls it into my fingers. I let it drop it to the floor as I shake my head, the tears falling down my cheeks like huge raindrops now. I look at him in disgust. Right now, I wanna beat the fucking living daylights out of him, never mind call him and see him again. My lips and mouth go into an automatic snarl as I push the door open. Desperate to get away now as I run through the club. My heart pounding in my chest, my pulse racing as I reach the main doors and make my way into the cool, night.
And then it hits me. What I've just done hits me. I run and run as far as I can. As far as my legs will take me. Until I'm completely floored and out of breath. The stitch in the side of my body hurting with every step I take. My eyes red as I can't stop crying, sobbing. Every part of me, trembling. I stop by a wall and that's when I hit it, not once, but twice. Taking every last bit of frustration at myself out on the concrete as I pull my fist back and connect. That's when my phone beeps with a message.
'Sorry about before. come home. luv u. J x'
"So, where did you end up in the end?" Jackson asks again coldly, as he stares at me intensely. His steely gaze penetrating, seeing right through me as I remain on the floor. I know I'm sobbing. I know I'm out of control again. I know that I can't lie to him.
He knows.
"Bar West..." I mutter through my tears. "I... I..." I struggle to form a sentence. To string the words together as tears roll down my face and I wipe them away with my sleeve.
What is there I can say?
"Was he worth it?' Jackson whispers. I close my eyes as I shake my head. I can't look at him. I can't bear to face up to what I've done. It's bad enough I have to see him in that chair every day. See what I did to him. And now I've broken him even more.
'I didn't...'
'What, you didn't go and have sex with some random stranger! Don't try and deny it. I can smell him on you. You reek of him. You reek of sex.'
I wince. The words physically wound me as he says them. I never thought I could cheat. I've seen what it does. How it tears families apart. I despise it. I mean why bother being with someone if you're not willing to be with just them. And yet here I am. One of them.
'It wasn't like that.' I sob.
'No.' Jackson replies his voice cracking with emotion. 'So what was it like?'
"What?" I ask, my lips quivering and shaking as I open my eyes to actually look at him. Straight away I wish I hadn't. My heart feels like it's being ripped out of my body as I see the crestfallen look on his face. The tears building up in his eyes. He's not smiling, laughing or joking now. I try to study the look on his face. His eyes full of hurt. Pain etched on his face. Pain that I've put there. Damage that I've put there. Again. I kneel at his feet as he sits upright in his chair. He is and always will be worth ten of someone like me. I've done what I always do. All I'm capable of. The only thing I know. I've taken something good and completely fucked it up again.
'I'm sorry.' I whimper. And it's not just a sorry for what I've done tonight. It's a sorry for everything. For getting out of that van. For picking up that phone. For not just letting him drive away. He'd have been better off without me in his life.
'You always are Aaron.' Jackson whispers. 'Do you remember when I told you that I don't think you want to be happy... god I was so flamin' angry with you, but I never really believed it... but now... maybe it's true. Because I thought this...' He gestures at the space between us. 'This was supposed to change all that. What we had. I thought maybe I did make you happy. But we both know that you're not. And I'm not either. We're both just trying to get through each day. And I can't do it anymore. I don't want to be a burden. A guilt trip. I don't want you to be with me out of some... some warped, misguided sense of loyalty.'
I can't stand it. He's not supposed to know that that's how I feel. I thought I'd hidden all of that. Buried it deep inside me. I guess I didn't try hard enough.
'I'm not... it's not... it's not like that.'
'No?' He asks. He knows. Just like always. He knows.
I put my hand over my mouth as I let out another sob. How can I hurt him more than I already have?
"Beat him up afterwards as well did you?" Jackson goes on, as he catches sight of my bleeding hand and grabs it. I let him touch me. I need that. I need him to comfort me and tell me it's going to be alright, when it should be the other way around. Just how pathetic am I?
"I..." I can't even form one word to defend myself, explain it. I can't explain it. I can never make this alright again.
Jackson wheels his chair backwards a little way. His eyes glistening with salty, wet tears and for a moment I think he's gonna come at me. Run me over. But that's the way I think. He hasn't got a nasty, malicious bone in his body. He grabs one of the cloths from the kitchen table, edges forward again and takes hold of my beaten hand once more as he tends to my bleeding. And still, I can't stop myself from shaking and crying. How can he bring himself to be near me, to touch me after what I've just done?
"I hit a wall!" I mumble softly as his hand strokes mine.
"You've got form for that!" Jackson whispers. 'Still the wall's not gonna be bothered is it...?' He can't help but joke weakly.
"I'm sorry!"
"What for?"
And I can't even say it. All I can do is cry and sob and beg him to forgive me.
"It's not like I blame you." Jackson mumbles. "Getting something off someone else that I can't give you."
"What?" I pull my eyes up to look at him once more. "It wasn't... it isn't..." I stumble over my words.
"You're young, you still have needs and all of that!" He goes on. "I wish I could give you what you want, what you need..." And now Jackson is crying, as he loses it, his lip shaking as he speaks. "But I can't..."
"You do!" I reply. "You do!"
"So, what was tonight all about then, Aaron?"
I let out a huge breath. I have no idea, only that it was me doing what I always do. Letting people down. Messing up.
"You know what I said on Christmas Day..." I begin as Jackson lets the huge tears fall down his bearded face, he's very still as he nods his head. "I meant it, I meant every word!"
"I know you think you do..." Jackson whispers as I try to wipe my eyes.
"I know how I feel!" I exclaim. "You can't do that! You can't think you have the authority on how I feel. You know what it took for me to say it... I never would have said it if I didn't mean it. I don't just throw that word around like it's nothing!"
"Yes..." Jackson sighs, like he's defeated. "I think I've got a fair idea of what it took for you to say it..." He motions to the chair that he's sat in and that's when I see that look in his eyes. The truthful look that he very rarely shows me. The look of blame.
If only I had just said those three little words when we argued that night. If only I hadn't have gone out for a cig and seen that waste of space, Mickey. If only I hadn't got in the van when Jackson told me to forget I had come looking for him. The fucking list is endless. We both know this is all my fault and like the elephant in the room, always is between us, I wish sometimes he'd have the bloody guts to actually come out and say it.
I've never known love before in my life. I've never been taken care of and had any understanding of what those feelings involved. I've never understood how you can say those three words to someone anyway and not know what they mean, what they feel like. But I realized something. I realized that I cared about someone else and was able to put their feelings above my own. I could see that I liked him, a lot, we were friends and I could tell him anything. He made my stomach do funny things whenever I was close to him and I couldn't think of my life without him in it. I still wasn't sure if that was love. Sometimes, I believe, you don't have to say it out loud, your actions speak louder and if I was there for Jackson, day in and day out, helping with his recovery, then he'd know. He'd get that he meant a lot to me. But as we were left alone on Christmas Day, that's when I was finally able to actually speak those words to him.
"You had a good day then?"
'Not too bad could have done without my mum singing 'Merry Christmas Everyone' though... I said to myself I said Hazel.' Jackson mimics as he impersonates his mum. 'There's nobody does a Christmas song like Shakin' Stevens.'
I can't help but smile. 'Well it could have been worse; she could have sung 'Fairy Tale of New York' like my mam.'
Jackson laughs. 'Yeah I don't think Carl appreciated the scum bag, you maggot line...'
'Deserved it though... prat.'
'True... and at least she edited the faggot line for us.' Jackson teases, obviously replaying the cringe worthy moment in his head where my mam in her drunken stupor decided the word faggot would offend her gay son and his boyfriend.
I look at him as he beams that smile of his that lights up his whole face.
'It's been a good day...' I sigh.
'Yeah... yeah it has.' He agrees. 'It's been nice to get out of there... just... forget...'
I look at him. I don't even have to speak the words coz he knows I agree with him. Today. For the first time in a long time... it felt like before. Like... normal almost.
'Thank you.' I whisper.
'For what?' He replies, confused.
'Just... well just for being here... most of my Christmases have been pretty... well pretty rubbish to be honest.'
'Hey I was only here for the presents.' Jackson tries to joke. He knows I don't do the deep and meaningful stuff. 'Despite the fact I couldn't actually open any of them.'
I shake my head. 'Just as well you hated everything you got then.' I bat back. This is what we do. We joke about it. Pretend it isn't happening. Maybe we need to stop pretending. If only for one day.
'Well at least you got me something this time... unlike my birthday.'
'Yeah sorry about that...'
'It doesn't matter.'
'It does...'
'Really Aaron... it doesn't... what does is, that you did what I asked... you kept coming... you've kept me sane whilst I've been stuck in that hospital bed.'
And that's when I say it.
Those three words that once, were just too many to say.
"I love you..."
And it doesn't feel wrong or forced or like I'm saying it for any other reason than that I mean it. I really and truthfully mean it. And I can smile about it as I lean over and kiss the top of his curly brown mop of hair that for such a long time was covered in bandages and other contraptions. I let out a huge in-take of breath as Jackson smiles and I kiss him again, softly, brushing my lips over his as I know I've given him the best present I could have given him. And more than those three words. I've given him hope. Hope for the future. Our future.
We've moved on so much from that moment. Come so far. Well, Jackson has. I feel like I just stopped still. Stopped moving. Time just passed me by whilst everyone around me carried on. Jackson fought to get better. Paddy fought to save a friendship. My mam just fought... but me... I just fought with my demons. Demons that got darker every day. Yeah I grew up. I had to. But inside, deep inside I'm still the same Aaron I always was.
Jackson holds my bloodied and bruised hand in his own for a while as we both say nothing. The silence seems to get more deafening with each passing second. I wish he'd say something. Anything.
He takes a shaky breath. "You never did answer me before... was it worth it?"
"Was what worth it?" I ask through my tears.
"What you've just thrown you and me away over?"
"What?" I stare back at him in disbelief. "But... you just..."
"We were over a long time ago Aaron, we've tried to pretend that we're fine... that we still want this... want each other... but we were over the moment that train smashed into my van. Everything since then has just been guilt on your part!"
I wince again at the words. We don't mention that. We don't talk about it. We just don't.
"No!" I shake my head. "No, I'm not letting you do this!"
"Do what? It wasn't me out at Bar West tonight, taking the easy way out by fucking the first available random... I'm trying to make this easier for you here Aaron. I need you to do the right thing... just please for once. I need you to be the strong one. You're nineteen years old, you don't want to be my carer for the rest of your life. And we can't keep doing this. I haven't got enough fight in me to try and keep us going too. It's hard enough to get myself through each day. I love you... I really do... and I wouldn't take back a second of what we had but I know I need to let you go... set you free, but you have to be the one who walks away from me... coz well I can't exactly walk away now can I?' He tries to joke.
'You can't do this Jackson... please you can't... don't ask me to do this...' I sob, the tears free-falling down my cheeks.
He takes the time to move even closer to me, taking my face in his hands, the feeling of my wet stubble on his fingers as he looks into my eyes.
"I bet you let him inside you, didn't you? Typical you that, all sacrificial!" He spits the words out but I know he doesn't mean them. He's trying to get me to leave. Provoke me. Make me walk away. But I won't. I can't. I've grown up a lot since that night. I still make mistakes. I still fuck it all up. But I won't leave him. I won't. I feel like the air is being squeezed out of me and I've got nothing left in my body as Jackson looks at me, daring me to answer. Prove him wrong. But I can't and I sob as I let more tears fall. Totally exhausted. All I can do is nod my head as Jackson lets go of me. He backs away.
"Do you remember the last time?" He asks me, as he turns his chair around and looks out onto the living room. "Before?" He mumbles softly. I try to regain some of my composure, trying to calm myself down.
"Of course!"
"Just after we scattered Clyde's ashes..." Jackson goes on. "You promised me it would be different, that you'd listen to me and we went upstairs and..." It's like the words have become stuck in his throat as he chokes up, trying to stifle the sobs that are threatening to escape from him. "I should have known... but you were always so different inside the bedroom as you were outside of it and I'm an idiot for thinking I could change you..."
"You did change me!" I shout, my voice cracking with emotion. "You have. You've made me a better person!"
"And like I told you before, one day, you will meet someone and fall in love and you'll know about it from the start. And you'll get your heart broken – but it won't be with me!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I call back at him as he wheels himself away into the other room. I scramble to my feet, to chase after him.
"I can't do this anymore Aaron!" Comes his muffled response and I can't help but put my hand over my mouth, letting out another sob once more. My stomach is in tight knots as I survey the damage of what I've caused. He said I'd know when I'd fallen in love. And I know. As the tears stream down my face. I can actually hear my heart breaking. I know now. I love him. I think I always have. And I've thrown away the best thing that's ever happened to me.
"We need some time, some distance between us!" Jackson goes on as I crumble. He's the strong one. The one with all the answers. He always has been. I'm the one always losing it. I'm the broken one here. I'm falling apart before his eyes.
"What happened tonight is gonna keep happening if we go on like this!"
"No!" I yell out.
"And it's what you need anyway. It's who you are Aaron. We're polar opposites you and me. How we've lasted this long is beyond me!"
I continue shaking my head as Jackson goes on. A steely determination echoing out through his words. He means it. He means every single word.
"That rehabilitation place mum was going on about the other day..."
"No!" I shake my head defiantly. "I'm not letting you do this. I love you!" I call those three words out into the open space between us. The words that were once such a barrier between us. I'm now using as my trump card. My final weapon. The last roll of my dice.
This is all my fault. I just need to be given the chance to repair the damage. I will take all of the blame, if he just gives me another chance. Jackson stops his chair, turns around and looks directly at me. The tears streaming down his red eyes as he sniffs them back.
"I know you do!" He returns, sobbing gently as I come to stand before him. My body aching as I wipe the tears from my eyes. As I look once more at the man who's changed my life in so many ways. Who's helped me to accept who I am. To not be scared, frightened or ashamed.
"You've got me!" I whisper, kneeling in front of him once more in order to take his shaking hands in mine. "You've still got me!"
Jackson shakes his head, choking back more tears as he breaks his hands free of mine. His thin lips turn into a frown as they quiver.
"It's not enough!" He says simply. "We can't give each other what we both need any more!"
I wipe my eyes as I look back at him. I don't have any fight left in me. Any energy. Anything. I'm totally exhausted. I'm gone.
"It's over, Aaron. This time for good!"