Just a quick drabble. Inspired by the song A Love Like War by All Time Low. If you've never heard it I recommend it very much. Listen to it while reading. This is written as a stream of consciousness from Stan's point of view. I'm not completely satisfied with this but it works. Enjoy.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we choose to make our lives complicated? Our sorry little hearts make the wishes we can't have.
He takes a drag. I take a drink. I don't think we want to face the truth sober, but we always remember. The kisses in the dark. I remember. Black fingernails on my skin. Teeth like a shark. I crave it. I want it. I'm intoxicated, not by the drinks I've had, but by the lie we live. Tomorrow will be like it never happened.
Tonight though, I let myself indulge. I am painfully lost in the chill of his stare, like a deer caught in the lights of an oncoming bus. His dangerous for me. We're nothing but poison for each other. And yet, I will shamefully lust for the thrill of his touch. I know he feels the same. We need it. He says we're nothing but trouble. Words we both know are empty. They echo as they go unheard. Another stolen kiss; another burning touch. Heart's on fire, my bones ignite, and it feels like war. We feel like war.
We should just end this. We both know it because its too painful to keep up the lies. But we don't. Maybe we're a bit masochistic. We'll go together or we won't go down at all.
We almost get caught once or twice. I tell him we definitely have to end it. A failsafe. He agrees and it's locked down. We wipe the slate clean and pretend to forget. But at the end of the week I'm back at his door. His expecting me. We both knew I'd be there. No escaping the truth. I'm addicted; drawn to him. He belongs to me.
I am caught in the web of a lie and the weight of it all is suffocating. Its not fair to her and I know it. Maybe she knows it too. I should just leave her; it's what I really want. But I have to keep up appearances. The bitch of it all is that I'm running from the desire of the person to whom I belong. At the end of the day he'll tell me I'm wrong though, because he went through all of the trouble to keep me. It won't be in so many words. Simply what we both know: I belong to him.