Pattern

It's their pattern now. LIke clockwork he knows he'll get that call. He knows he'll go. He will hate it. It will hurt so much to see her in pain, but he will go. He'll listen as she cries over him (he can't even think the name). He knows it's coming, and he tries to steel himself for it. He resolves over and over again that he won't go rescue her, but he knows he won't be able to hold to his resolve when she calls.

He can feel the tension building inside waiting for the call. He knows her signs and when it will happen. He knows this pattern. It's just like with his dad. Every month he knows it's coming and can feel the tension building. He doesn't want to do it, but he knows it isn't in him to turn his back no matter how much he hates singing his dad down.

With her, the pain is exquisite. Every time he sees her. Every time she calls he remembers the feel of her hands on his skin, her mouth pressed to his, the way she yielded to his touch and her, small and soft, under him. The pain of her rejection shoots through him. He wasn't who she wanted. He wasn't enough for her. Every time he goes he feels that pain. Not good enough for her, only good enough to come when she needs rescuing.

It's their pattern, and he doesn't know how to break it. He doesn't know if he wants to break it. He knows deep down that he will always go to her when she calls. He never knows what bar it will be or even where the bar is sometimes, but he'll find it. He'll find her.

They never talk about it. She never acknowledges it, and he won't say anything to her or anyone else. He'll just go because at least in those moments he can be near her even though she is broken and her heart is bleeding, he gets to help her, feel her small frame lean on him, feel her touch again.

It's their pattern and he lives for those moments when she needs his care - when she needs him.

It's their pattern now, and he doesn't want to break it