Disclaimer: Tekken is not mine.
Carbon monoxide is a colorless, odorless, tasteless yet highly toxic gas.
I loathe you.
Loathe. Not hate. Hate is too weak a word. Like hating calculus in university. Or hating the smell of fresh blood on my lips. The smell of inevitable defeat. No. I loathe you and that makes all the difference. I would give anything – everything – in the world just to break you. Just to see your defenses crack, the cold smile on your lips weaken into a look of doubt, your will and your pride flowing down the drain. I would give anything in the world to strip you of that mask you've made for yourself. I would give everything in the world to see you the way you see me. Dispensable. Something to be used and nothing more.
The icy blue of your eyes taunt me. Fat chance. A slight smirk, challenging, on your face before you grab the collar of my shirt and crush your lips against mine, pushing me towards the wall. Every furious kiss tastes like the strongest vodka and every sharp nip on my lip is euphoria. And you know I like it that way, and I despise you for that. I fight back, pushing you back with my tongue and keeping you in place with one hand on the swell of your hips and another clasped tightly around your throat. And with every stabbing kiss, I pray you can feel how much I want to tear you apart.
Do you hate me? You whisper as we stop our fight for dominance. Without waiting for a response, you fix back the mess of your blonde hair into a neat ponytail.
No. I don't hate you. You know I don't hate you.
A cynical snort. You smooth down the creases on your tight black dress and apply a few drops of that spicy perfume you wore when we met all those years ago.
-you poison my lungs with the scent of your perfume-
You daintily wipe your lipstick-smudged face with a napkin you fished out of your bag. You turn your back to me and face the mirror, carefully reapplying the dark red guck on your lips.
-you poison my eyes with the color of your lips-
See you around, playboy. I return the smirk with a plastic mask. Charming roguish grin. But you know better, and your smile widens at my feeble attempt at exuding unaffectedness. Smile even a little wider and the plastic will melt.
One last kiss, and you leave.
-you poison my mouth with the taste of your kiss-
You poison me and I loathe you to the very pit of my being. But I can never give you up. God, I can never.
A/N: Why do I always find myself writing angst in the 2nd person POV? Ack. I think I've used the word "poison" too much. I'm shunning that word for the next three months. Also, I've just realized how evil FFN's formatting system is. Gah. XD Review, bitte und danke.