A/N: I don't think it's completely necessary to read the first one, but it's suggested, if you read this first chapter and like it. I do think that this one will be much better, since my writing skills have improved over the last year, at least I think so. I hope so.
I'm also going to try something new. I saw a fic like this, and I found the style interesting. I'm going to place some lyrics in the beginning that relate to the story. I hope you don't find this annoying, but I liked it, and I hope you do too. And I'm going to be too lazy to do this every time so- I don't own any of this music, and obviously don't own rent. The end.
Oh, and if you find the lyrics lame, or the music style, sorry. Just ignore it. Hope you like though. Thanks for reading. And this will be the longest author's note. I promise. Thanks again.
You took the breath right out of me,
and left a whole where my heart should be.
-Breath.Breaking Benjamin.
It was pouring out. Thunder boomed loudly just before bright flashes of lightening. This was all visible from my seat next to the window that I sat on on nights like this. It was nice to watch. Interesting. I'd count the seconds after the lightening struck until the thunder sounded. I learned when I was a child that that was supposed to be the amount of miles the lightening was from me. It was nice just to sit here, and think about stuff like that, think about my childhood.
It was a happy time for me. My parents actually talked then, and I enjoyed having a younger brother. It was so much easier. You didn't have to worry about bills, paying for school, paying for food, and you could just let yourself go and think. No judgments.
Then it quickly faded and your teenage years approached. They're good for a while. Pretty dramatic though, but what can you expect from hormonal teens? And then when you get your first love, there is so much happiness that your whole body tingles. But a majority of those relationships end up not working, anyways. My first love was in that category.
I met Roger during my junior year in my Chemistry class. It'd be an understatement if I said that was my favorite class. For so long I just sat there, staring at the back of his head, fantasizing. And then one day I didn't have to fantasize anymore. Everything was perfect.
It was sort of like the thunder storm. The thunder was like our fights, the lightening like our love. The rain was the world, always going as the storm, as our relationship, went on, but there was thunder occasionally. Thunder was always scary to me as a child, made me jump. I'd hide under my blankets. Our fights were the scariest, but there was no where to hide.
But it all evened out eventually. Sometimes there were many many seconds until the lightening came, but it always did. Our love was like the lightening; hot and bright; exhilarating.
But then one day, there was so much thunder, so much pain, that it couldn't work anymore. I counted and counted for the lightening to strike, but the rain let up, and the thunderstorm was over. I didn't know if that was a good thing or bad thing. We need thunder storms for our environment to grow, which was good, but then the thunderstorms quit coming, there was a drought, and everything died.
I died.
I know we were young. You could call it stupid puppy-love. But that doesn't mean that those feelings weren't true, if I knew them at all. Everything I felt, everything I said, was what I thought was right. And I had feelings, strong feelings, and I was just supposed to give them up.
As you can probably tell, I couldn't. Even know, five years later, I still think about it. I don't know if that's good or bad either. It makes me happy, to remember what I felt then. But then I think about how it ended, how Roger just wanted an end, and it crushes me to say, that I wanted one too.
I wish I could say that it worked out for the best. I wish I could say that I'm as happy as ever, having Maureen for a girl friend. I wish I could say I have everything I ever wanted. ...I wish I could say all that.
"Pookie, you coming to bed?" I heard Maureen call. I turned around to see her standing at our bedroom door. She had those skimpy shorts on that showed too much leg and that too see-through tank-top. She only wore that sometimes. I knew what she wanted tonight.
It wasn't my favorite, making love to Maureen. If you could even call it that. It felt more of an obligation as her boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, I love being her boyfriend. It's just... I preferred something different. It felt good, and she was great, it was just not exactly what I was looking for in a relationship.
"I'll be there in a minute," I said. A smile surfaced on her face and she scurried into the bedroom, obviously jumping onto the bed waiting for me.
I sipped the rest of my coffee down that I had been drinking while watching the storm. It was cold by now, not very good. So I threw it in the sink, along with a other dirty dishes, and I walked into our shared bedroom, away from the storm.
Maureen took control, as she most of the time did, and soon enough I was sleeping. It was strange that I slept so well. It could have been because of the I was exhausted, but for some reason, I had a feeling it was because of the thunderstorm.
"Marky," Maureen said, her voice waking me from the sleep. "Mark, get up!" I sat up in bed, grabbing my glasses and putting them on my face. "Someone is at the door. Who could it be?" she asked, her voice panicky. I sat up, heading out of our room to go answer it. "Mark. Stop! You don't know who it is. What if it's some sort of murderer?"
I gave sigh/yawn. "You're such a drama queen. I'll be right back," I said softly, still half asleep. When I reached the door, I gave a call,"Who is it?" I asked. There was no answer. "Hello?" Still no answer.
Assuming it was Collins and Angel coming over for one of there surprise visits, I pulled open the door. There, in the doorway, was my worst nightmare. Thousands of emotions hit me at once and my body tensed immediately. My jaw clenched as I ground my teeth together. Unable to control them, my hands balled up into fists. I was pissed.
My heart stopped and so did my breathing. All I could seem to do was stand there and stare. I mean, what else was there to do? How would someone act in a situation like that? After all of these years, he was here, standing in my doorway and I had no idea how to react.
It hurt, a bit, to see him, so I knew that this wasn't going to be good. That gut feeling in my stomach was evident and if I was able to speak, I would've told him to leave, but I couldn't. No noise would come when I opened my mouth. And I would've pushed him away, but I couldn't move either, so I kept standing there, unsure of what to do.
So, all I could do was stare. He looked pretty much the same, after all these years. His hair was still long, blond, yet not as well kept as it was before. And his body still seemed built, like it was before, but at the same time he seemed weak. And his once tan skin, was a little paler now. It was strange to see him like this; the same, yet so different.
And one more thing I noticed was so extremely different. His bright, piercing green eyes were gone. In their place were just pale ones which huge black bags underneath. The eyes that I loved so much had vanished, along with his smile.
But his face, his face still so beautiful.
Now he was standing there, sad, right out of the pouring rain. Every bit of him was soaked, along with the very little luggage he had. All he carried was a small, duffel bag, wrapped around his shoulder. He seemed to have many layers of clothes on to keep the cold away, but he was soaked, so none of that mattered. His body was shaking uncontrollably.
Before I knew that I was even doing it, I grabbed his hand, and pulled him into me. It wasn't much of a touch, and it was cold, but it felt so right. Every piece of me that had ever felt terror or pain, was filled with something different. It wasn't quite happiness, for these were not the best of circumstances and completely random, but it seemed much like relief. After all this time, was I still hoping Roger was okay?
It didn't matter what I felt for him, though. I was with Maureen now and was in love with her. Well... at least I was with her. So, Roger couldn't not ruin that. But it didn't matter now. Maureen was not here, and I was doing nothing wrong. Just holding, and comforting a friend... a friend that I had once been in love with... and maybe still was.
"You must be freezing," I said, holding him tighter, but having no intention of leaving to get warm clothes. If I could have been there forever, I would have.
But he was still shaking, and extremely cold, so I pulled him by the hand into our messy bathroom. I picked up the towels that were thrown about the floor, and turned on the shower. It took a while for the water to heat up, but it finally did. But Roger made no motion to get in. He just stared at me with tears slowly streaming down his face.
"Come on. We need to get you in the shower before you freeze to death," I said to him. Still he did not move. Obviously he didn't feel comfortable changing in front of me. If felt strange for me for him to feel that way (we had never been through anything like that before), but I reminded myself that this was not before; it was now. "Should I?" I asked, making my way out the door.
"No," he said quickly, holding his hand out. His voice was soft, but raw a bit, unlike it was before. But it was still the sweet voice that I loved, the voice that sang to me.
Quickly, I made my way to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards me. "Are you okay?" I asked softly, hoping the answer was "yes". But I felt him shake his head "no", and I knew that I needed to help him. "Here. Let me help," I said, turning him around to pull off his jacket. "Lift up your arms." And I pulled his shirt over his head. His shoes, then his pants. I left on his boxers, not wanting to violate him, if he was uncomfortable. "Just take a shower, and I'll make a nice bed on the couch for you." He nodded a bit, and I headed out.
"Mark," he said, before I could walk out the door. I turned around instantly, and walked back to his side. He held his arms out a bit, and I held mine out too, pulling him into me, holding his shaking body tightly. I couldn't let him stand here freezing, so I sighed a bit, and let my hand trail down his arms so our fingers were entwined.
He winced for a second, and I let go quickly. I moved my eyes down his arms and saw something on his wrists. There were slight cut marks, bruised and raw, obviously panifully. I looked up at him and stared at him confused. Did he do that to himself? He pulled his arms away and turned his head. He was ashamed. "Maybe you should just get into the shower," I told him, and walked away, not wanting to hurt or embarrass him any longer.
I'm not sure why, but I sat on the couch, even after I made Roger's bed. Was it that I was waiting for him to get out? I'm not sure. But I sat there, until I heard the water turn off from the shower. I'm not sure how much time had past, but soon Roger was out, with a towel around his waist.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. He was naked, a nice sight, but he did need some clothes. "Clothes, right. I'll get you some." I snuck my way into the bedroom. It was my bedroom, shared with Maureen of course, but I never felt quite comfortable there. So I took a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from my top drawer, and left quietly. "I hope they'll work," I said, handing him the clothes.
He just looked at me and nodded his head. Then he went into the bathroom, put his clothes on, and minutes later he was sitting next to me. I wasn't sure what was wrong and what was right, so I did what felt okay. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and let him cry into me.
I thought for a while, about how this was so new, but so amazingly comfortable and right. When he left, I barely survived. My heart seemed to break, but it just kept beating, and even if I didn't want to, I went on breathing, went on living. And now that he was here, my heart seemed whole, and healthy again.
He didn't say anything, as I hushed him to sleep. My hand glided over his hair, which was still wet from the shower. His sobs became softer and softer, until there were no more, and he had finally cried himself to sleep. Something told me, that if I left him, it would be bad, so I layed beside him on our way too small and way too ratted couch, and slept through the night.
-So you like it? I heart reviews and I'd love to know what you think. Thank you. And I hope this wasn't lame. I liked it for the most part, but I was ify on some things. I ended up rewriting it half a dozen times, so now I've just given up, and I'm going to give you what I liked and hope you do you. Thanks again!