Disclaimer: I own nothing, that's why I get to do this, and I love it.
It is my first story published here, English is my second language so be kind to me (?
Enjoy.
I can't sleep, just keep tossing around in my bed. Most of the days I can't sleep anymore. Everything is a fucking failure. Opening my eyes and placing one of my arms in the back of my head staring at the the ceiling. I can't keep doing this to me anymore, it's not right. Finally glancing at my phone, that is resting in the nightstand.
It was almost time…. every other Saturday at the exact same time he will send a text.
It is unnerving how we are caught up in this endless infernal circle, of loving each other so hard. - Just to put a label on it, it could easily be hate, pity, necessity, call it what you want. - We both are way too stubborn to admit that this is borderline unhealthy. That we are only feeding a monster with fuel, that is going to explode.-Sooner or later, anyways. -
I have been deluded myself thinking that there was more to this whole mess, than a few booty calls a few times a month. Try as hard as I could to understand or finding a sense of what was going on, beneath the surface. -Or maybe, just maybe, there is nothing beneath the surface. -
I understand that some part of me wants to have him, forever. I can't picture my life without him.
Every time we meet it feels like he is removing a part of my heart, piece by piece, and making it colder every time. His indifference stings like a knife but I the same time it intrigues me, I am drawn to him and I can't stop it. Every time drowning in his arms deeper and deeper, lost in mystery word that was Grant Ward.
buuuut I know I mean shit to him. He just uses me like a regular fuck buddy, why not? it was easy. I really wasn't putting up a big fight about it, he is so extremely hot, how do you say no to that piece of ass? -superficial me sucks. -
At some point in my life I thought he was my knight in shining armor. When he was tender, caring and loving. Something changed inside of him and I can't really place what was, it breaks me every time.
I started remembering our only date, in sleepless nights like this, I like to add an extra layer of misery to my pain, just for fun. Mixing things up, you know?
It was on the first days of the year; the Christmas decorations were still up. He asked me out, out of the blue, and I said yes. He looked absolutely amazing in a suit. I was wearing my hot pink Dress, that was the only nice piece of clothing I had back then.
"You look absolutely breathtaking," He said as I went down the stairs of the Bus. He grabbed my hand and place a kiss on my knuckles. I almost melted right there and then.
"Thank you, you clean up good too." I joked.
He pointed at the parked black car parked outside, tinted windows, he opened the door for me. When he closed the driver's door I tried to make conversation. "What did you told Coulson? Did he notice?"
"Maybe, I just told him that I was going out. He didn't ask, did you told him?" he asked raising his eyebrows.
"No, no, no, but I think Simmons is onto us, she saw me when I was on my way out. She is expecting a full report." I turn my face to the street passing us by, I was almost sure that he was going to be mad and cancel the whole thing. At least I could enjoy that was an 'Us' that someone could be onto, and that make me giggle.
"What are you going to tell her?" he asked softly. So not the reaction expected.
"It depends…" I reply vaguely.
"On?" he pressed
"On how tonight goes" I smile at him, and he returns my smile.
He parked on a nice restaurant, small and intimate. As we sat down he orders wine and starts making conversation, trying to avoid any subject too dark, but my interests, how I managed to live in a van for two years. I asked him about the life he had before the Bus, as an agent. It was amazing and refreshing. I could sense he was enjoying himself.
"That was almost breaking and entry" he laughed.
"Maybe... I really needed a shower, Ward." I defend myself after telling him about one time where I sneaked into a high school in the middle of the night after some drunk guy spilled his bottle of vodka all over me right when I was rolling down the window because it was too hot inside the van.
"Grant," he corrected me, and he reached out to grab my left hand.
"Grant," I repeated, and squeeze his hand a little bit, in reassurance.
After a while, he said that we needed to go back to the Bus. I really didn't want the night to end. And for the very slowly driving back he did, I noticed that he was enjoying himself too, even if he was never going to admit it upfront.
When we arrived back everything was turned off, everyone was in bed already, we walked quietly inside the aircraft. We weren't sneaking around but we were not ready to be spotted yet. At the moment we reached my bunk he grabbed one of my hands and pulled me gently towards him. I could smell his cologne and it was intoxicating. He placed one of his hands in my chin, and approached very slowly to place his lips on my right cheek, whispering to me;
"We should do this again, good night"
"Good Night" I manage to say before he pulled back. I thought he was going to kiss me, hell I wanted him to kiss me, I needed him to kiss me. But he didn't. Right there and then I knew I was a goner for that hot man. He had me, and I was not going to let go.
-I think this is me, holding on to that Grant Douglas Ward. -
So many years have passed since that day, and I still can't decide if he was being legitimate or just wanted to get in my pants so badly that he was actually pretending to be a good guy. Because that has happened to people. -Because people are full of shit. - We kept flirting lightly, very PG stuff, but he never asked me out again. The next time I heard about the subject was on Valentine's Day where he ruined everything saying that he was not ready, that I was way too much a commitment, that he needed space. -Please, go buy a fucking spaceship, asshole. -
It feels like a hole is being drilled in my chest every time I gave it too much thought to this, maybe I am just overthinking the whole thing, and he is only a gigantic son of a bitch, and he doesn't love me, or hate me, or pity me or whatever, and is just pretending. -Like he did with fucking everything else. - Or after all this time he does have feelings for me. -Knight in shining armor my ass. -
This whole thing is making me think that I am in those abusive circles, where this guy just uses me to have sex and then leave. Without even care that he is leaving a gigantic mess behind with no intention to clean it up. It was no point to clean it up lately, really. The last few months I just wallowed in my own misery afterwards.
There is no point on wasting my time taping myself together thinking that this time I will be able to say 'stop this,' 'fuck off, 'never call me again you arrogant son of a bitch' or such. I never did, terrified to my bones if I say "no" it will risk that he will be leaving me fucking forever. I was no ready for that. I was not prepared for Grant Ward not to be a part of my life. Even though he played such a small role in my life but it meant so much, much more than he, -or me-, could even imagine. -Or care to admit. -
-2:16 a.m., it won't be long now… this fucking sucks. -
Someone once told me that I do see the good in people, even though they didn't deserve it. - Is there good inside you, still Grant Ward? Because apparently, I think there is. - Maybe this time around I'm wrong…. however, I haven't even got to the worst part of this terrible fucking mess.
I plotted in my head one way or the other on how "we" -if "we" even existed. - Can justify the fact that we were "together" -if that's how you called it. - Because, yeah, dating the person that tried to kill your best friend is the sanest and sensitive decision that you can make. -Nobody has time to be sane and sensitive, we all just pretend. -
I even pictured our wedding -June wedding, who will have it any other way? - And when I go way too far… farther than the point above. I pictured a beautiful townhouse and a beautiful baby boy with his eyes. - Because imagining that type of stuff entirely makes perfect sense. -
And without fail, just like clockwork, at 2:22 a.m., every other Saturday the phone beeped, announcing one new text message. Saying the same thing. I don't even need to turn my phone on to know who texted and what he texted. Never the less I cave in and take a peek.
G.Ward
Hey! Do have Any plans for tonight?
Once again I will try to hold on and ignore my burning anxiety and hold onto every sane sense in my body, - why not let's throw a little bit of dignity as well in there in the mix-, trying not answer the phone, and failing miserably.
After a couple of minutes, contemplating the ceiling of my room, I gave up, and reprimand myself for not being able to say 'no.' But the guy could make me orgasm in ways that no one ever did.
D. Johnson
See you later.
Just like clockwork, I texted back, at 2:31 a.m., starting this infernal circle all over again. I sigh. -I love you, Grant Ward. I hate you, Grant Ward. -