Sometimes, when we're together, I close my eyes and I imagine.
It's pretty stupid, the sort of thing I told myself I'd never be foolish enough to do. That pointless wishing and dreaming that doesn't change anything and only makes it hurt more when you open your eyes.
But still I do it, like I'm sure hundreds have done before me.
I imagine I see love in your eyes, that you touch me so softly and carefully out of adoration rather than lust, that when you gasp out my name on a soft breath as you come you add the words 'I love you' to your sweet, incoherent murmurings. In truth, you tell me I'm beautiful, that you always want me, that I make you so hard but that's not what I hear when I close my eyes. I hear you saying that you'll love me no matter what happens to me, that you can't bear the thought of living without me, that every part of your soul screams out at you to be close to mine.
It's pitiful really. Hell, Owen and Tosh did pity me, when they were still alive. Tosh and I sometimes had long conversations about unrequited love and we both knew that I was talking about you and she was talking about Owen but we never mentioned names. That would make it so much more real, break the denial we wrapped around us like bubble wrap. Owen tried to warn me again and again with his cruel comments. We both knew he was only trying to help but I didn't want to be helped. I miss them so much. I think them about them every day, everything I do reminds me of them in some way. Gwen doesn't even notice what is going on in front of her.
I wonder if you know how I feel, I'm sure you do. I understand why you let me keep imagining because you're doing the exact same thing when you're with me, only it's not my face you see in your mind. It's not cruel, it might even be kind. There's no place for everlasting love at Torchwood because you're the only thing that endures.