Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Pairing: Dust X Hard
A/N: Hi, I just wanted to write this, 'specially when I noticed someone added Heaven's love to the category section. So without further ado, here we go!
Prologue: Heaven's not enough
It always hits him, hard and fast, when Hard unleashes his rage. It's not that he can't deal with it. He's used to it. But sometimes…it gets old. Really, really fast.
"An' do you know what that frickin' prick who's hangin' around my brother said!"
"No, no I don't."
"Well he said-"
Typical. Dust tunes him out right then. When Hard's mad, it's not that he wants someone to listen. It's more that he just wants to get it out. He'd talk to a wall if he had too. He doesn't want answers. He just wants to vent.
So Dust lets him.
"Are you finished yet?"
Hard stops in the middle of his tirade and turned blinking at him for a few seconds. "Uh huh, I think…so."
Hard was quiet for a little while longer.
"Shower time. Order some Chinese, will ya Dust…"
And Dust watches Hard as he stretches his long limbs and heads toward the bathroom. "The clothes are in the usual place."
"Hn."
Dust felt a grin spread on his face. It was so like Hard to just storm in and-ah. More cleaning for him. Damn.
He doesn't waste time ordering the food. Faster they eat, faster they have fun. It's the way they work, he thinks. It works for them.
And they don't give a damn what others think.
So Dust begins to wonder, why is it that Hard always comes back to him? How exactly does he feel about him?
He blocks out the thoughts. It's nothing to worry about right…
Hard came out the shower then, wet n' fresh.
Definitely nothing to worry about.
"Foods here." Dust announces liking the way Hard finger combs his hair. How it got that long he'd never know but damn…
"Looking good." He grins.
"I'm a model. What do you expect?"
"Oh, nothin' much. Chow time."
"Yeah."
They eat in silence and Hard watches Dust, for no reason. Dust is smiling now, and that makes him feel…something. He grips his soda can tightly with a satisfying crunch.
Feelings, feelings, feelings…so damn confusing!
Dust looks at him then and he turns away a small blush on his face and crushes the can a bit more. No makin' sense of these confusin' feelings…
"Ready?"
"Huh? Sure."
Dust lead Hard to the bedroom, they know what they're doing, what they're going to do, and it seems natural to them.
Outside there's fighting, fires, stabbing. Outside there's laughter, glass shattering, madness.
He's not outside.
Right now, there's no voices, no sounds-other than ragged breathing, hard thrusts, soft cries.
It fills the silent room.
Hard's aware of his heartbeat, scarily so even, the way it threatens to burst and stop altogether. How it doesn't stop even after five minutes, it just goes on and on and it scares him, intrigues him, comforts him. In a way he never knew it had. It makes him feel alive.
Breathing.
Shuddering.
So fucking alive.
There's even more than that though, there's the sudden jolt that spikes through him, spreading, spreading wild fire.
It's intense, it's painful, it's everything and more as he reaches the spiral's end. Like the milky way galaxy he just went deeper, deeper, deeper, into the center.
It pulls him in, shivering and hard, and then there's light all around him, filling him, taking him, completing him. White heat surges. He's close but not there yet he can feel it, the strong tide that threatens to overtake him, suddenly, quickly, strongly.
Hard and Dust come at the same time.
At the intensity of their release, Hard almost thinks his heart will stop right then, he can't help the scream, can't help the sob of Dust's name.
Dust is feeling nothing and everything, something as he's pulled in deeper than he thought it would be. It gets impossibly hotter, bursting, fire, fire, fire exploding.
It takes a few minutes for them to come off from their high, brains happily turned to mush, arms around each other, breathing.
Between them the fire never goes out, it just dims and right now there's a feeling of warmth and content, like curling up in front of a fireplace.
It's always between them, growing fast, something that has a name.
Love. But Hard wouldn't know that.
Dust pushes it away again. He's content, to have the one he loves in his arms like this, calm, gentle, sated.
It was like heaven.
But was that really enough?
He plays with Hard's silver strands gently turning them between his fingers, gray silk in his palm.
Hard was everything he'd always wanted, dreamed of, more. More, more, more than he'd ever prayed for.
He hated himself for that. For not thinking it was enough. This! This was the way he'd always wanted it to be, so burnt out he didn't want to get up, so in love that he could just watch Hard forever.
He was selfish. Damn selfish.
So selfish that this wasn't possibly enough.
No. Never enough.
The familiarity of his room, the scent that lingered from previous activities, knowing that his love was his.
It wasn't nearly enough.
Dust sat up then, stroking a few of Hard's strands back into place. His heartaches, and he feels the need to clear his head.
He gets out of bed-something he never would've done before; leaves a note. It hurts him to leave there, hurts him to stay, but he's going out for a little while either way, both options painful.
In a weird way, he feels like it was a one-night stand. It's not of course. It just somehow feels that way. After all, he is the only one in love.
Hard probably doesn't know.
He's walking down a crowded street, cool and collected, as if he hadn't just been laid. Dust listens to the song that comes from the big TV screen in the middle of the street, comforted.
'Everybody! Put up your hands, say I don't wanna be in love, I don't wanna be in love…'
Dust wants to deny it, but right now, love sucks. His feelings aren't really returned.
So he just listens, no thoughts.
Hard wakes up about an hour later, instinctively looking for missing warmth. The water's not running so Dust couldn't possibly be in the shower. There's nothing cooking, so he's not in the kitchen…so where the heck was he?
Hard gets up, peeling back the sheets and wincing at the pain-damn it hurt-and searching around the apartment.
There's no sign of Dust, of life other than him.
Fuck.
He takes another shower, quickly, throwing on his clothes carelessly, not bothering with his hair.
He was gonna find that bastard Dust if it was the last thing he did. There could be an earthquake for all he cared, he had one goal in mind and he was going to find him.
Hard almost breaks the door down before he notices a note on the door.
'Hard, I'm telling you right now, please don't kick my door down-'
He snorted.
'I'm going out for a bit, be back in maybe two hours, you don't have to wait up for me-'
Hard can't believe what he was seeing who did he think he was writin' to?
'I'm probably going to be busy anyway.'
Does this mean he's a nuisance?
'Lots of love, Dust.'
Hard blinked at it. Love, love, love….love?
He wracks his brain trying to find a definition for it, a meaning.
Love was just not a word in his dictionary.
Now while he'd heard Dust tell it to him before, there was always the fact that-
He didn't even know what love was.
Dammit.
He'd just have to find out.
Then he flipped over the paper. 'Heaven's not enough.'
What the in the seven hells did that mean?
Dust barely opened the door when he saw an enraged Hard beating his microwave. There was a familiar sense of growing dread.
"Hard, what is it this time.."
"It fried my burrito. What the hell do you think happened?" He grumbled.
"What setting did you put on?"
"Setting?"
"Yeah."
"…dunno. Bake?"
Dust slapped his forehead. "You should've put it on 'frozen food'"
"Ah."
It was silent for a few moments as Dust waited to see what Hard would do next.
"Not my fault."
Why was Dust not surprised?
"Oi. I wanted to ask you. What does it mean by 'heaven's not enough'?"
Dust froze then, silent for a second. He gulped, swallowed rough. "It's just a new song idea. I just had to write it down."
"On a note that could've been thrown away?"
"It was the closest thing at the time."
Hard turned to him, ready to continue the debate. His phone beat him to it.
"Cry! What's up…" Dust breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have to thank Cry later.
"Looks like I gotta go. But this isn't over." Hard pointed, shutting the door –amazingly-softly.
Dust watched him with a smile that quickly faded. He hadn't forgotten about earlier. About love, of being loved, of heaven.
And heaven just didn't seem to be enough. Not anymore.
No, no, no, no, no…
It never had been.
Really,
Heaven just wasn't enough.
Song used: Dance floor anthem by Good Charlotte
I hope this wasn't too OOC. Please review and tell me if you thought so or not. I plan for this to be at least ten chapters long if I can, so it'll take a while for them to get back together.
Thanks for reading. *bows*
