Oh I live for you, I long for you Olivia; Don't let me go
He was the first to fall, which would of surprised anyone, but surprised him most of all.
They had been sleeping together for a couple of months now. The arrangement was simple, they needed each other. She needed someone who understood what it was like to be a zombie. Who wouldn't bat an eye when she showed up on his doorstep obsessed with some weird new kink (he was a kinky son of a bitch himself ex-zombie or not). And him? It was simple, he needed to know that he could make the mighty Olivia Moore scream. His ego depended on it.
It was a simple case of frenemies-with-benefits, with absolutely no pretense of romance. In fact she had even been, quite rudely he'd add, kicking him out of her bed until a few weeks ago when he fell asleep before finding his pants and had woken up to her looking absolutely murderous.
After that he managed to conveniently fall asleep every single time. Eventually she even started making breakfast for him too instead of just tossing him out the door on his ass.
Good times.
Until today, when he stopped by the morgue with hopes of a quickie during lunch; only to be greeted with red eyes and a scalpel to his neck, Liv ranting about how she was going to be putting him on one of slabs for some, quote, "stupid evil shit" he'd done. Now what exactly he had done he wasn't sure. He had done quite a few things over the past few days alone that could qualify, but she wasn't exactly in the mood to elaborate between her rants of how she should of just shot him when she had the chance, and how much she hated him.
She was beautiful when she was angry. A hurricane of a thing trapped inside that slight little body.
God do I love this woman.
The thought shocked him, knocking the smug grin off his face. Liv must have noticed the sudden change in his demeanor as she stopped mid rant, her green eyes searching his own. An uneasiness settled over them and for a moment he was struck by the unmistakable urge to kiss her, to wrap her up in his arms and fill her ears with promises of how he would do better, be better for her. All for her.
But instead he listened to the fear that gripped him instead, and muttered a quick excuse me before shuffling out the door.
Love?
He was willing to write it off as just a slip of the tongue, mental phrasing gone wrong. But somehow he knew that it was more than that, it was worse than that. Even just thinking that four letter word was dangerous. It was a slippery slope that led to horrendous things like cuddling and weekend get always. It meant marriage and a little house with a white picket fence. It meant kids that would grow up to be just like him, and a him who would grow up to be just like his father. He had no time for love. No room for it in his cold, hard heart.
He stayed away for a month. For as long as he could. No texts, no calls, no late night booty calls. Until one late rainy night when the weather matched his mood and he showed up on her doorstep at 2 am completely drenched through.
She almost ripped his hair out in the process, but hey, it was the best sex of his life.