Heelllo, its been a while since I wrote anything, and for reason inspriation struck in the middle of one of my exams *shrugs* and so this... happened. Its not really my usual genre and for some reason its about a story line which was over about a year ago, so I can only apologise really.
H x
Heroin fucked you up, he always knew that, but he never knew that. By the time he understood, just what fucked up meant, it was too late. He was already in love with his sister.
He never told her, but sometimes he thought she might have guessed. That it was more than deranged drunken ramblings, it was deranged sober thoughts and secret day dreams of confessions of love, promises protection and affection. Ruth had never really 'got' happy feelings - but sadness, humiliation, suffering and disgust were like her second nature. They were ingrained into their ever waking consciousness, substitutes for the imaginary friends they never had as children. If anyone could guess, it would be his Ruthie.
In the same way heroine never failed to make him fuzzy round the edges, his sister never failed to pin him with that ice cold, knowing stare that made his skin itch with hot heat.
She never pretended, never once told him that it would be alright. He hated her for that once. Even though she was his little sister, there was the unspoken code that she would always look out for him. And she always did. Quietly kneeling to clean out his cuts; putting him to bed; holding him when he cried, but never mentioning it come morning; washing his sheets when he was too high to remember basic bodily functions, like getting out of bed to have a piss.
Finally, he realised what his sister had realised a long time ago: there wasn't any point. What would it achieve? Happy endings, alright endings even, only happened to little girls and boys in fairytales that were surrounded by magic and castles and princes.
They both knew that magic stayed firmly locked in between pages of dog-eared library books.
Eventually they came to exist in a silent understanding. He didn't need to apologise for pressing her against the kitchen wall last night and kissing her till it hurt to breathe, because as far as Ruth was concerned, it never happened.