There have been plenty of times in my life I've wanted to die. Even when I was a kid, up in my room, listening to all the noise downstairs. All my stupid suicidal tendencies as a stupid suicidal teenager. Like Everworld helped with that, you know? Sometimes things got so bad death seemed like the easy way out. So it's kind of a mind-fuck to realize that I do want to live. I do want to be here. What changed?
Was it you, David?
I'd like to mention that it wasn't intentional. Falling in love with you, I mean. You know, not eeny meeny miney moe, April David Jalil. Not like that. Once I realized though – I couldn't let it go. I'm pretty damned incapable of that, actually. Yeah. I can admit it. I need attention as much as I need anything else. I knew if I wanted it from you, I'd have to fight for it. Fight to get close to you. Push and push and push. Prove that I was worth it. Not because you value yourself so highly. You're not like that. But you're all about survival, David. You weren't going to let someone hurt you like Senna had. You weren't going to let yourself be weak.
You're a hard guy, David. On a lot of levels. This war… you're done with bullshit. With people being weak. Life used you as her bitch and then handed you over to Fate for sloppy seconds. Your parents hurt you. Donny hurt you. Senna destroyed you. And you thought I would do the same.
Which, all right, fair's fair. I'm not the nicest person you'll ever meet. Or the most responsible, or loveable, or caring, or whatever. Mostly I piss people off. Piss you off. I'm all mouth. Always was. Talking and yelling and joking. But there's two sides to me, David. Two sides to us. Always was. Because that mouth that insulted you so many times used to kiss and suck and lick and slide over every part of you I could reach. I loved to suck you off on my knees underneath the table in the War Room, you fingernails digging crescents into the thick parchment maps, just so I could catch Jalil puzzling over it later. I love to kiss you. You taste like metal and you smell like blood and battle, but underneath you're something dark and warm. Spicy. I love that smell. When you're fucking me, my legs wrapped around your waist and my mouth all over your face; it's all I can smell. I can taste it on my tongue. I want it all over the sheets.
Were we happy? I don't know. It wasn't sunshine and smiles and ever-afters. Wasn't romance. Mostly we fucked. Slept in the same bed afterwards, yeah, maybe. Like I said – two sides. Just as likely to curse me out as kiss me. Just as likely to make me bleed as beat someone up for fucking with me. Is that love, David? 'Cause I'm not gonna say love is easy. It never was, not for me. Not for you either. But you're my other half, David. The half that keeps me grounded and in one place, keeps me in only one bed after crawling out of a bottle or two. Keeps me safe. Keeps me alive. And until now, I never knew you needed me as much as I needed you.
And that is worth living for.