Title: Reality
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: R-ish
Pairing(s): Ethan/Luke
Character(s): Ethan Nakamura, Luke Castellan
Summary: "It meant everything to Ethan. As much as he hated it, he was in love with Luke Castellan."
Disclaimer: I don't own it. If I did, I would be totally rich.
Author's Notes: This is my second time writing Ethan/Luke (Ethuke? Luthan?), and I'm pretty happy with it. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
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A moan in the darkness.
A gasp, pleading and desperate.
Teeth against skin, fingers running through blonde locks.
Skin against skin, lips against lips, tongues dueling for dominance.
Calloused hands, rough and gentle at the same time.
Pleasure and pain, mingled together to become one.
Bodies melding against one another, kisses and touches desperate and heated, sweat dripping down foreheads.
A cry, an electric shock of pleasure, a new, amazing high.
Ethan jolted awake, gasping for breath. His head spun, and he held it in his hands long enough to compose himself. The memories of that night seeped into his brain like a disease or an unwanted thought. He could still feel Luke's touch, could still taste the other boy's skin, could still smell the sex and desire.
Biting down on one of his knuckles, Ethan tried as hard as he could not to cry. He refused to cry. That night meant nothing. Nothing at all. At least, it meant nothing to Luke. It meant everything to Ethan. As much as he hated it, he was in love with Luke Castellan.
Even if that night meant something to Luke back then, there was no way it could now. Kronos had won. He had taken Luke over and erased any possible memories that the blonde could have had of the passionate ecstasy they had shared.
A sob tore from Ethan's throat, and he bit down harder on his hand in a futile attempt to hold any others back. He tasted blood, but he didn't care. He could feel the sting as he bit down on his own skin, but he didn't care about that either. He deserved the pain. He deserved it for being such an idiot and falling for Luke.
"Dammit," Ethan gasped out, falling back against the pillows on his cot. Numbly, he wiped the blood from his knuckle on the sheets and pulled his knees to his chest, shaking and working hard not to bawl like a child. Someone would hear him if he did, and that would be very bad. Very, very bad.
Letting out a shuddering breath, Ethan punched his pillow and swore again. All he wanted was Luke. His Luke.
He isn't yours, something chided in his brain, an evil little voice that seemed gleefully happy to drive Ethan even more insane than he already was, and he never, ever will be. You lost your chance to tell him how you feel. Good job.
"Shut up," Ethan growled, surprised when the words came out in a fierce, almost un-human tone. He was surprised, but not unhappy, "Shut up and leave me alone. I don't want to think about him!" It almost worked. Almost.
For a few seconds, Luke was gone from Ethan's brain and he could breathe easier. Just as quickly, though, he was back. Ethan buried his face in his pillow, biting down on the material, and sobbed so hard it hurt. The pillow muffled the sound, and Ethan dug his fingernails into the fabric, letting out the tears that had wanted to fall for so long now.
Not yours, not yours, not yours, echoed in his brain, over and over.
Out loud, Ethan managed to gasp, "Not mine. He'll never be mine."
It was reality, and it tore Ethan's heart out of his chest and ripped it to shreds. It was reality, and it hurt more than anything he had ever experienced.
"Not mine," Ethan repeated, before sleep tugged at his brain and he drifted into a numb, black oblivion.