Basically, I'm sick and wanted to write something to feel less depressed. So of course I wrote angst. Yay me.
Title from Heart Of Stone by Iko.
Still don't own TVD.
Don't hold your breath, he says, and you know that you should listen to him.
You know that you won't.
Look at me, you want to say but your voice is numb, the words just won't come out, so he stares into space and you stare at him, hands shaking, mouth dry, not daring to even blink because he's always gone when you open your eyes and you want this moment to last a little longer than it usually does, want him to stay, please stay, just once.
For a brief second you feel safe. The sky is clear, the stars bright and the moon watches over you, as if things were still the same, as if you're still sharing secrets and pain and blood and kisses.
But everything has changed, that's why he's here, that's what he's trying to tell you without actually saying the words, except everything has changed so many times by now that you honestly don't know where you stand anymore, what exactly has changed this time, what does everything mean, what does anything mean.
Don't hold your breath, he says, his voice small, broken.
He hasn't changed that much, you think. He's not the boy you met at a speakeasy in a magical city forever ago, no, he's less conceited and a bit more jaded, but you can still see a child beneath that cold mask of his. He's only hiding, too afraid of getting hurt again.
Let me help, you want to say, because he's falling apart, falling apart right in front of your eyes and you want to help him, to take his hand and hold him close and keep him safe, to give him everything he's given you when you needed it most, when you were running, running, running, weighed down by centuries-old fears, and he made you feel weightless, carefree, comfortable, content.
You want to tear his walls down, to take all his broken pieces and put them back together, to mend his heart, to fix him as best as you can.
It wouldn't be perfect, but you don't want perfect, you want him, all of him, damaged and wonderful, this beautiful mess of a boy that you can't help but love just a little too much.
Don't hold your breath, he says and it sounds like he's begging.
No, no, no, you've got it all wrong, you want to say and your heart is racing, beating so, so fast that you think it will jump out of your chest and straight into the palm of his hand.
It belongs to him anyway, he can have it, do whatever he wants, stop it again, crush it into a million tiny pieces, turn it into dust.
You wish you could make him understand that you're not wasting your heart on him, it isn't yours anymore, you wouldn't know what to do with it if you had it back, it's his, take it, please take it, please accept it.
You wish you could find a way to tell him how much he means to you, to make him see all the adoration and devotion that you feel with every fiber of your being, but try as you might, you can't seem to find the words you need.
So you stop thinking, stop looking for the right words, stop trying to tell him and try to show him instead.
You stop thinking and press your lips against his.
He lets you.
He doesn't kiss back.
I love you, I love you so much, you desperately want to say but the words never leave your mouth and maybe it's for the better because it wouldn't be enough. That's not what you mean – yes, it is, but it's so much more than that, and you're too afraid to say those words, just like he is too afraid to hear them.
Don't hold your breath, he says and looks at you for the first time, greenbluegray eyes expressive as always, full of emotions that no language in the world has the right words to describe.
And you die a little. You're constantly dying when he's around, it's killing you how he can't see that he's the only reason why you're still alive, can't see how much you miss him, need him, want him back.
It isn't normal, this bond the two of you share, but it keeps you sane. It's toxic and wonderful, so twisted that no one else could want it, no else could understand it, and that's fine, because it's yours, yours alone, just between you and him, your precious little secret, your beautiful tragedy, and you wouldn't change it for the world.
It's your misery and your bliss, the stolen glances that always last a second too long, the silence filled with words that only the two of you can hear, all these feelings like fingertips ghosting over your cheeks, your lips, your neck, a harmless, gentle caress at first, and then those slender fingers tighten around your throat and breathing becomes impossible, your lungs are burning and you're falling down down down, you'll never stop falling for him and it hurts.
Don't hold your breath, he says and this time he's the one who leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
It feels like the end of something and you want to scream, how can something end before it even starts, it's not right, it's not fair, but it's happening, your entire world is crumbling down and you don't even know what it is that you have missed, ifs and maybes and could have beens can't help you know, you won't get another chance, it's done.
You open your eyes.
He's gone and all you have left are the tears staining your cheeks, yours or maybe his, you'll never know and you're grateful for it.
You open your eyes.
You're alone in your bed, sunlight bleeding into your room, warm and golden and bright.
You always wake up to the nightmare of everything having been just a dream.