Title: Wilting Rose
Pairing: Implied Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: Russell Davies own the entirety of Torchwood. I own nothing.
Ianto wondered when it happened. When he had become so utterly dependent on Jack bloody Harkness. How he couldn't make it through the day without seeing him once. How the merest touch from him sends him to nirvana.
It's rather frightening, he reckons. No one should depend on someone as much as he depends on Jack. He never depended on Lisa like this. Ianto wonders when Jack stole into his heart and set up camp there without so much as a by your leave and with no hint of leaving anytime soon.
He thinks he should be more perturbed with someone having such control over him. Goodness knows he doesn't bow down to people easily. He's a wild one, not easily tamed, yet somehow Jack bloody Harkness has gone and tamed him.
Ianto knows Jack doesn't love him. He's like a drug addict, craving for more but never obtaining. The merest look sends shivers down his spine. Maybe Owen's right, maybe he's just a part-time shag, but he'd rather be a part-time shag than be separated by someone who owns his heart so irrevocably.
Ianto likes it when Jack touches him because when Jack touches him, it sends his blood boiling and he knows good old fashioned sex will take place. It's hot, it's dirty and it's all about two bodies seeking satisfaction. In the aftermath though, when they hold each other, there's a lack of comfort there. It's like all the passion has been sucked out and they're only going through the motions. It's times like these he wonders, how long is this going to last?
He has debated whether to get himself retconned and move on many a time but it never comes to pass. He couldn't leave his job because he has Seen and he cannot Forget retcon be damned. Torchwood is his life and he knows no other, he was practically groomed for this. Lastly, he doesn't think he could ever forget Jack. Retcon might make him lose his memories but he knows he will be haunted by bright blue eyes or the dazzling smile that sends butterfly laced with crack in his stomach.
He knows he's wilting. He can't help it. Everything has taken a lot out of him. He hasn't found time to anchor himself before yet another emotionally devastating trauma sends him reeling. He knows before long he'll be a liability but until then he will go about as normal because it's expected of him to pick up the pieces and move on.
He wonders if Jack will notice. Notice that his eyes don't shine as they once did. Notice that he's gotten a little bit thinner. Notice that he's that much paler. Sometimes he gets the feeling that he does notice, when Jack is looking at him. Not staring at but actually looking into. But those moments are few and usually they end up tangled in the bed sheets and the question pushed aside.
Ianto knows he should stop and in the end only he will be hurt but he can't stop it. He's tried, tried so hard to stop but the merest glance at him and he's ready to bend over the Jack's desk. Ianto thinks of his situation with much irony to the moth and the candle. Jack is the lit candle and Ianto the moth. The moth is forever attracted to the fire and will eventually get to close and go up in flames.
He doesn't want to but his heart and his mind can't reconcile. His mind screams that he can't, that it's unfair but it's drowned out by the cacophony of protest by the heart at the merest idea of leaving Jack.
He can't stop, he knows he'll get hurt but life isn't fair and he'll take whatever is thrown his way because he's so deep in love that'll he'll stay through the pain and hope that one day his love will be returned.
Until that day though, he'll live through the burns of the candle, no matter how much it hurts.
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