Acceptance
By: KaKaVegeGurl
Author's Note:
Want some random adorable Pyler? Here you go. ^^
I have quite a few of these coming out soon, just random shorts that I've had time to write.
I finally got around to watching the entire Heroes series (1-4), and simply adore it. And don't worry, I been spreading it around, managed to get about 4 other ppl into watching it so far.
Anyways, on with the short, enjoy, and have a nice steaming cup of yaoi!
~KaKaVegeGurl
Side Notes:
Oh, the quiet silence defines our misery.
The riot inside keeps trying to visit me.
No matter how we try, it's too much history.
Too many bad notes playing in our symphony.
So let it breathe, let it fly, let it go.
Let it fall, let it crash, burn slow.
A Short
Peter set his keys on the top of the kitchen counter. He looked at me with a stern expression that only his mother, Angela, could've pulled off. His mother, I tell myself, his mother. I need to keep reminding myself that that's what is right. His mother, Peter's mother, not mine.
He walks to me, helps me out of my jacket and sets it up by the door, beside his. His moves are slow, steady, even hesitant.
"You're afraid of me."
He just nods, and I know that he's telling the truth. His worried eyes stare at me, tired, exhausted, and overwhelmed. He's tired of running, like me.
I shake my head though, "You don't have to be worried, Peter."
He just stared at me, tilted his head to the side, and waited to see if I said anything more. When I didn't he asked softly: "Are you going to be alright... Sylar?" Unsure of the name that he should call me.
"Am I going to be..." I start to laugh, but my eyes are watering and I have to look away from him, I don't know if I'm sad, I think I am. But my heart is so numb that I have a hard time grabbing onto the broken piece in me. "Am I going to be alright," I say it finally, my voice wavering and I hate the weakness there. So vulnerable. Easily manipulated and hurt. How can I fix this?
Peter moves closer, only a few steps, but it's like a mile of movement for me. It's like he's moving in slow motion.
"Sylar." He sounds genuinely concerned for me then and it stings inside of me somewhere. Is that my name? Or am I Gabriel? Who am I?
I look to him then, my tears on my cheeks now, and I hate it. I hate being so vulnerable in front of him. But I can't stop it. He's already seen me, he knows. Hell, he can probably read my mind, he could before. So there's no point in trying to hide anything.
"There's not," he whispers, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to do it."
He's not lying again and I nod in response to him, "It's... It's okay."
He smiles sheepishly, "I don't want to pick things out of your mind though, Sylar. I'd rather you just tell me. What are you going through, right now?"
I look around the room, move to one of his shelves to look at the things on it; books, knickknacks, pictures.
"I don't really know," I say, honestly, "I feel like... Everything's really messed up. I killed your father. You should hate me for that. And I've killed a lot of other people too, so if you don't hate me for your father then you probably really hate me for that. I killed some of the people you knew. But instead, you're here, trying to comfort me."
"I don't hate you." Not a lie, "But I am worried," also not a lie, "You seem really unstable, and unsure, and confused. I want to help," not a lie either.
I have to respect his complete, sincere honesty. No one is as pure as Peter is, no one. He doesn't even need to lie to manipulate me. He doesn't have to work around things. All he has to do is tell the truth. I wonder if he knows that.
"Does it bother you? About my dad, are you angry that he's... Not your's?"
I shake my head, it's my turn to be honest. "No, it's more of a relief in some ways. And Angela isn't my mother. They both tricked me to get what they wanted. And both of them didn't get that. So, I don't know... I don't know who I am anymore."
He moves again and I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that lurch of nervousness.
I want him closer. Because, if he's closer, then he's not really the enemy. And if he's not the enemy then what is he? A friend? I want him to move closer, and he does.
He's so close now that he can reach out and touch me if he wants to. But he doesn't.
"I need to find my real family," I tell him then, "Some how I don't think that my parents are really that. I need to find myself again."
Peter nods and stares into my eyes, "And have you decided what side you're on yet?"
"I don't know," I shrug. "I'm so–"
He moves to me and stares close, "You don't have to decide now. Just think about it. I can try to help, if you want. Just tell me. What do you need, Sylar?"
I stare back, feeling the twist in my stomach, "I..." I need, "I need..." I need something, I need someone. I need someone that is okay with me.
My mind goes back to what my 'mother' said; that I could be more, that I had to be more, then what I was. I couldn't ever be enough for her. She never accepted me for just me.
"I need..." I say again, I know he's wanting me to say it out loud, it's possible that he isn't even reading my mind anymore, "I need someone to tell me that... Not tell me... I need to... I need to be enough."
He raises his brows at me, not completely understanding what I mean. So he probably really isn't reading my mind.
"I didn't want this," I tell him, "I wanted to be different, yes, but I didn't want this feeling, this hunger. I didn't want to have to be extra-extra-extraordinary."
A pained expression covers his face, and I feel the tears brimming once again.
"I was never enough for her."
He walked two more steps to cover the distance and his arms slipped securely around my waist, pulling me to him. My chin hit his shoulder and I closed my eyes as the sobs finally shocked through me.
"I'm never going to be enough either," I sobbed out, unable to hold back the overwhelming sadness inside. "She's dead, I killed her, and I'll never be enough for her now. I'll never be enough for anyone."
The hate, the anger is rising in me. I feel like I want to kill, kill everything and everyone, and I move to get away from him. But he reaches out and grabs my wrists.
He struggles to make me look at him. "Don't think like that, Gabriel."
Gabriel.
And his lips are on mine, he's kissing me, and I feel my feet steel down to the floor and my legs freeze up.
Then it's done. Click.
I need this, I need him. I need him so badly.
I push us back, grabbing his face, our teeth hit once in protest as our mouths merge together. But I don't care entirely with the sting of it as Peter stumbles over something behind us and we slam back into the wall.
His hands slip calmly against my dress shirt, touch my collar, then slide through my slicked back hair. The chill bumps rise and I feel the squirming in my gut. The surprise, the want and need, the feeling of him receiving me.
I grab his bottom lip in my teeth and sink down on it.
The gasp that escapes him goes directly to my groin, his left arm fisting the shoulder of my shirt, his right pulling at my hair.
I want this innocence, I want his forgiveness, I want his ease and ignorance.
After everything that I've put him through, and he forgives me. I need this. This is the last piece, the missing piece, and I need it so much.
The piece that fits. The piece that fixes me.
He moans against me, pulls out of the kiss, and breathes, "Gabriel."
And I feel like he knows exactly what I want, exactly what I need. I thought that was my ability.
"Empath," he whispers.
We stop and stare at each other and he smiles at me, "You need to know. Need to know that you don't need to try so hard."
I'm confused and he smiles knowingly.
"You're more then enough, Gabriel," he says softly, "You've always been more then enough for me. You're all I need, just you. As you are."
The resolve spills through me and I can't help but smile, because he's not lying.
He shakes his head, "I'll never lie to you, Gabriel," he kisses my lips softly, "Never." And then he kisses the corner of my mouth, up my jaw line, to my ear.
"I love you, Gabriel."
Acceptance, that's what fills me, and I'm so happy that I can't contain it. I crush my lips to his, he's fine with me just being me.
I pull away then, the question in my mind, "You, you aren't... You... I've killed."
He smiles sadly and nods, "I know. I haven't forgotten. But it wasn't your fault. And I forgive you, Gabriel. It was the hunger. Not you."
There's nothing more I need then that.
Ending Notes:
Hope you all enjoyed, feel free to give me yer points of view in a review, or just drop in to say 'good story' anything werks. ^^
~KaKaVegeGurl