Disclaimer: JE owns the characters.
Different Sides of the Same Coin
He is beautiful, there was no mistaking that.
The way that the corner of his mouth curls up when he's amused. The way that his light brown eyes wrinkle at the corners when he laughs. His laugh. The way his skin gleams after working out in the morning. The way that his hair, in desperate need of a cut, falls over his forehead and dangles in his eyes as he leans over.
But there is so much more to his beauty than what is presented on the outside.
A slightly haunted expression comes to his face at the end of the day. I don't want to think about the things that he's seen or done, nor would I ever want to after the things that I've seen and done. It may be selfish, but I have more than enough nightmares of my own. It's his past that brings a fierceness to the way that he holds himself, always prepared to defend anyone at the drop of a dime. That's what he is. A defender. A warrior. A knight in shining armor. And it will always be to the death for him in everything that he comes up against.
The nights are the hardest for him.
He wakes up shaking and sweating, a sob braking through his lips as he runs into my room and dives into my bed. It's gut wrenching for me, that there's nothing that I can say or do to make it better for him. There are no words in any language that can make such a deep pain cease to harm him. His inner pain is agonizing for me to see in his eyes and the air around us fills with a desperation to make it all stop. But how do you go back and change the past? And if you could, would any of us have the strength to change it?
The body of a Greek God, the soul of an ancient warrior…
Those are sadly diminished by the mind set of an abused child. The lack of any possessions that would hold any type of sentimental value is part of the proof. No small knick knacks or treasured sweaters. He covets his body and his body alone, because that is the one thing that can never be taken from him. Growing up in a broken home with a physically abusive father and fighting his way through the gutter of civilization forced this attitude. Having to pray every night that you'll make it to see the sun rise the next morning is no way to live. It's devastating that I still hear his voice whisper through the darkness of my room, praying for safe keeping, before his breathing evens out.
The irony of it all?
Everything that I say about him is the same thing that I say about myself. The only difference is that he wakes me up from my nightmares and it's his name that I whisper, along with mine, as I say my prayers at night.
His inner self moves me more than any other person has.
His soul-deep need to protect others is matched only by my own. It's a burden that we both share, a… want to keep the black depths of man's misery at bay to those who might fall prey to it. Our lives, following the same parallel path, turned us into warriors for the masses.
He has a beauty to him that no one ever sees.
It's his rough hands, lacing through my hair as he pulls me close and tucks me under his chin. It's his steel-corded arms, wrapping around my chest and anchor me to his body. It's his massive thighs, being flung over mine to connect us from heat to toe. It's his broad chest, turning into my pillow every night.
He is the other side of my coin.
We were one and the same. Growing up the way that we did and seeing all the hatred that man forced upon the masses. It was like a gravitational pull that guided us to each other, some inner instinct telling us that we had both found someone safe.
It's the darkness of his room that makes us whole again.
His haunted eyes locked with mine as I climbed onto his bed, knowledge seeping into my brain telling me that I had saved him again from whatever hell he was reliving. The fact is, though, hell would be a fucking picnic compared to what we've been through. And we both knew that hell would be a welcome relief at the end.
My lips brush against his temple. "The little girl again?"
"How'd you know?" he asks quietly.
"The little girl brings tears to your eyes."
His hand slowly comes up and the light from the bathroom illuminates his tears as he pulls his wet hand back. My arms tighten around him slightly as my chest gets wet. Neither one of us spoke for a while, just holding each other and silently battling with our inner demons.
His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally breaks the silence. "Dear Father. Please protect me and Binkie from the harsh world that we live in and deliver us to the promise land when our time finally arrives. Amen."
"Amen," I whisper into his hair after I place a kiss on his forehead. "Try to get some sleep, Brett."
He nodded and moments later his breath was evening out. His body finally sagged fully against mine and I took a moment to fully enjoy the feeling of him before I settled in to creep back into the darkness. This is the life we lead… and the only way that either one of us can keep sane.
