A Snap Shot
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing!
AN: I'm not sure if you follow me on A03 but you should. I post their first/more often.

I mentioned this scene in the Dasey Discord. Couldn't get it out of my head so I had to write it. Ugh. Stupid brain!

Song to play in the background: Hold Me While You Wait for (Acoustic) Lewis Capaldi

A Snap Shot:
in a lover's embrace.

Ribbons of steam danced around the dim light of the bathroom, taunting him. He tried to focus on the echo of the water hitting the shower tiles, and not the melodic angel singing across the hall. But he failed. Whatever she was listening to was soft and sad and fucking heartbreaking. It was a little too coincidental as if the universe had decided that he needed background music for his emotional breakdown.

He was broken. He always had been. He knew therapy could help him work through some of his issues. But there was also that one thing… that messed up part of him that was fundamentally wrong. There was no talking through that one. Not at all.

When they first met, he thought it was just lust. Just pure attraction, and teenage hormones. That's what his body told him anyway, and it made sense. But after two years at university, his lust satiated in other ways, she was still at the forefront of his mind like the Queen his heart swore allegiance to.

He tried running from her. He really did. But as fate would have it, he wasn't strong enough to stay away.

Derek scrubbed his face like it would erase the thoughts that clouded his mind. He wasn't too familiar with the burning feeling in his eyes, but it felt like something adjacent to… crying? He was so frustrated at himself. Couldn't he just... stop? The concept seemed simple enough.

The hot water burned his skin like a brand. He knew his body would be bright pink when he finally stepped into the light, but he didn't care. He wished it was hot enough to burn his heart too. Stupid wretched thing. What's the point of having feelings anyway? They were ridiculous things that tried to rationalize his actions. They pulled him into situations he couldn't talk his way out of. And he could almost talk his way out of anything. But not this, because there wasn't any logic behind it. Just want. And with that want, with that desire, came guilt ripping its way up his body like a monster digging claws into his flesh.

He wasn't supposed to feel those things about her. Not her. Anyone but her. But he couldn't control the damn thing.

" Brother. Brother. Brother," he chanted to himself, under the spray of water like it would erase his sins. His voice was a rough drawl of syllables blurring together. He shook his head, the word, the meaning, clearly not sinking in.

Same difference.

Yeah...right.

He'd follow her anywhere. Protect her in his own little ways. A masochist, drawing out his blood for her like an offering at an altar. And had she even noticed?

He was torn between wishing she knew how he felt. And hoping he covered up his tracks good enough to never be suspected of his many... many crimes.

Guilt and desire dance around his chest in a lover's embrace. Limbs wrapped around each other so tight he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

He closed his eyes, inhaled the scent of his body wash, letting it replace the scent of her, the one he carried with him everywhere. He couldn't escape her. He lived with her after all.

But still, even alone, in the depth of his mind where he could wander anywhere...he finds her. He'd always finds her. The vision, the thought of her, makes his heartache. It's pathetic to yearn, to want as hard as he does. He had done it for years. He always thought it would go away, eventually.

He sucked in a breath, rolling his neck, feeling his tense muscles contract beneath his skin. He tried to go to another school. To transfer. To pull away. To add miles between them. But then she'd look at him, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and his resolve melted away like ice cream on a summer's day. He'd be there. He'd be her piece of home, her anchor for all it was worth. Even if it destroyed him, bit by bit.

The water started to run cold. He had been in there, his mind reeling, for entirely too long. Begrudgingly he turned off the water, letting the droplets fall from his hair and race down his body. He took a few steadying breaths, closing his eyes, channeling his mask once more. He tried to shift it back into place. The nonchalant jerk who didn't care. That's who he had to be to her. Anything else was too close to the truth he couldn't afford to share.

He stepped out of the shower, toweling off before wrapping it securely around his hips. He smiled at the foggy mirror that barely showed his reflection. His finger came up and he drew a silly little heart in the corner of the fog. It was stupid. His heart was currently in pieces, but...well he hoped hers was safe. He'd do anything to keep it safe and whole. Even if it blew bullets through his.

Finally, he stepped out into the cold hallway, leaving his warm inferno behind.

"Did you use up all the hot water?" she snapped, arms crossing off her chest, cheeks flushed, annoyed at him for merely existing. Even so, he could almost convince himself that her eyes fluttered down to the naked expanse of his chest because she liked what she saw. But he knew he was kidding himself. She would never see him the same way.

It took a second before the all too familiar smirked could play on his lips, but he managed it. "Sorry Princess," he shrugged, looking unbothered. "I needed some alone time, if you know what I mean," he winked, pushing past her.

"Der-ek!" she screeched from behind him.

Business as usual.

AN:Baby boy is just playing his part.