Disclaimer: If they actually belonged to me, this wouldn't be fanfiction, now would it? The song that inspired this fic and lent its name for a title is by Michael Bublé.
Warning: Oneshot. Slash, in its own way. SBRL, of course. I'm a faithful shipper.
I Wanna Go Home
I sit at a table in front of a small café. The sun is sinking slowly behind the buildings, taking the burning heat of the summer day with it, leaving in its place the stifling heat of the summer night.
People whirl by only feet away, chattering to children, friends, lovers in a language I once knew. There are crowds everywhere. People in cars, people on motorbikes, people on mopeds, and people on bicycles. People running, people walking, people sitting, people talking. The café is busy, waiters darting between tables and the kitchen. Even the tables jostle each other for space, customers sitting wedged between friends and strangers. And though I am very nearly rubbing elbows with my fellow diners, I feel removed. Alone.
In front of me, on the table between my wine and my water, is a stack of unrolled parchment scrolls that have lost their curl. My own writing stares back at me, no more than a line or two on each sheet. Meaningless words, phrases. 'I'm fine. How are you?' It's not enough, and that's why I have them here, why not a single one of them has been sent to you. You deserve more. You always have.
I move from city to city, town to town, country to country. I hide in plain sight when I can, jungles, caves, remote beaches when I can't. I seek out sunny places whenever possible, desperate for the light and the warmth after so long in stone-cold darkness. I know I'm lucky to be free, to be able to go where I want. But the one place I want to go, I can't. And it hurts me more than I'd thought possible to be so far away from you.
It's like living in a dream or a film. A life that's not my own. Everything was perfect for those few moments when I held you in my arms after so long apart. And then… It was like stepping out of a warm, cozy kitchen into cold, wet, sleet with no cloak. Like having to get out of bed in the morning when the fire's gone out. And I wish more than anything that you could be here with me, but I understand why you cannot, even if you don't. I know this isn't what you wanted, it's not what I wanted either. But your faith in me has kept me alive. You don't know how happy I was that you knew why I was there, that you didn't need proof, that you were willing to believe I wasn't a murderer. A traitor. You always believed in me.
The seasons change. Summer to autumn. Winter soon. Sooner there than here. And soon, now. Soon I'll come home. I miss you. Even when I'm surrounded by people I'm alone without you.
I can't run anymore. I'm done with this. I need to come back. You'll already know why. But also… I want to go home. To you. You are my home. And soon… soon it will be all right. Soon… I'll be home.
END
A/N: Well, I was in the city and heard one of the street musicians singing this song, so I had to listen to it when I got home, and this… image, if you will… wouldn't leave me alone. So now it's a quarter past four in the morning and I have to be up early tomorrow, but I have completed this fic, so the bunnies can stop chewing on my ears. What do you think? Please review!