Title: Conflicting Emotions
Rating: R
Summary: Boone watches Shannon, pondering his inability to let go as he remembers their night in Sydney.
Characters: Boone/Shannon, um duh.
HAPPY SHOONE DAY!
She dug one flawless, vicious toe into the sand below, her toenail scooping up a minuscule amount of it, then dropped it back onto the granular surface. Just one simple, average movement, but Boone knew she was doing it just to tease him. She was teasing him just as she had teased him for years, with her bubble baths and claims of nightmares and pouting pink lips. She was teasing him just as she had teased him last night, with the whispers and flicks of tongue and condescending moans. She was teasing him, daring him, when she had told him to pretend it hadn't happened, her words dripping with disdain.
He tried to convince himself she wasn't worth it, reminding himself how she looked without makeup, pointing out to himself her jutting ribs, the spray can tan, and her long legs were simply greedy, they took up way too much space. And she wasn't successful, or smart – but as thought this, he instantly reprimanded himself. She wouldn't do the same thing, she probably would have taken pride in thinking something mean about anyone else. And he hated himself for not being capable of the same thing.
Damn, he hated himself for everything. He hated the way his brain worked, like a magnet for everything relating to her. He lapped her up like tides on a beach, but her waves would always pull back, and he would just wait, helpless, for her to reappear in his life. Shannon sighed, and now a massive tide of her was swirling through his brain. Her whispers of, "It's okay,", the moans as he had given in, kissing her more vehemently that he had ever kissed anyone, the orgasm he had spent an hour on the plane convincing himself it was real (she had probably faked it, he told himself, while really thinking the opposite). Every idiot breath she ever took, he was just waiting right there to catch it.
Even after the scheming, even after she had guiltlessly pulled money out of his wallet with a perfect, manicured finger, after she had yelled at him and irritated him and thrown empty bottles of whatever it was she drank at him, she was still precious and innocent to him – but god, she was such a little slut. And now he just couldn't make up his mind. One minute he was calling her a whore, and the next minute he was inside of her and murmuring that he loved her. Funny how the next minute after that they were marooned on a desert island.
And she still wouldn't give up. Here she was, wearing that bikini that she had worn when she tanned in the middle of January when it was freezing cold (the back of it always rode up her thighs when she stood up), and he staring at her. He was staring at his cheating, stealing bitch of a sister and he still couldn't control himself.
He wanted to fuck her. One night hadn't depleted all those years of wanting and yearning and hating, and he wanted to tell her that. But another part of him wanted to slap her in the face, run away and never see him again. He was a mess, simple as that, but he was distracted from his current thoughts when she moved her hand to scratch her hipbone. The same hipbone that he had ran his hands along last night, and god, he wanted to do that again tonight. I love you, he thought.
"Hey, we're going through some clothes…" he told her, mentally cursing himself. Holy fuck, he was a mess.
"I loved you, and I should have said it
But tell me just what has it ever meant?"
– "Kill", Jimmy Eat World
Yeah, I know that wasn't the greatest, but I had to do something for Shoone day, and it wasn't so bad, I guess. And nobody seems to realize that it's Shoone day. So sad... Anyway, please review.