Day 35-Lauren's POV

"Oh so you are alive," she says with this little infuriated smirk I've only seen once before. Her jaw is clenching so tight I'm pretty sure it has to hurt but she suffers through it just to make a point to me that she is angry—yeah well Bo I am angry too. Her eyes narrow further till their near nothing more than slits, her hand firmly gripping the door as she stands between the opening, her way of 'silently' refusing to let me in. Everything is always SILENTLY with her. "I was beginning to think otherwise,"

I remain perfectly still despite the rush of adrenaline I feels coursing through me. She stares at me for another solid thirty seconds before giving me this little head tilt that silently says 'if you have to then come in'. She steps aside—just barely and I take the 'invite'. My eyes scan her room which is near identical to mine, I can't help the snort that escapes me as I walk over to the couch before turning and leaning against the oversized arm of the piece of furniture.

If she could just understand, if she just wasn't so damn immature and inconsiderate. If she could just make an effort. This place was something neither of us would ever be able to afford on our own and would likely never get a chance to experience again. We could be cuddling on this couch watching t.v. eating room service, cuddling and talking about pointless things. We could be making use of the amazing bed, we could be cuddling while using pillow talk. We could be doing tons of foreplay which I would undoubtedly give in and go all the way because Lord knows I am a sucker for her. We could make use of the NASA manufactured shower, I wasn't really one for sex in the shower or sharing the shower at all but I would be willing to do it with her here. This could have been a trip that was amazing but no, she just can't understand. She just can't make an effort.

"So are you finally ready to leave or did you decide to let me know in person that you would be jet-setting off again with the Queen of the Ocean?"

"Go a head," I say calmly folding my arms across my chest.

"Go a head and what?"

"Let it out. Say what you want,"

"Thanks but I don't really need permission for that,"

"Right because you're the unaligned succubus,"

"Oh my God Lauren, is that what this has been about? That comment from last week? I apologized,"

"No Bo, it's not." It's not—not completely.

"You know what, like I said I am DONE trying to figure you out." When did you start? "Are you ready to leave?"

"No," I shake my head subtly.

"So what you came here to have a staring contest?"

"No I came here to let you get what you have on your chest off, since you apparently couldn't manage to walk the five feet over to my room."

"Excuse me for not wanting to interrupt your sex fest over there with Mrs. Water-Polo." she pauses for a moment and I think it's to try and read my reaction to the comment, probably to see if that had been happening but she doesn't realize I am actually pissed and when I am I can imitate a statue all day long. If she wants an answer then for once she is going to have to ask. "Does she know your here or decide to sneak away for a moment to fill me in? I mean would have been considerate to text me just once to let me know you were okay but I guess didn't want to upset her, huh?" What do you know, she actually knows the correct meaning of considerate—was slightly worried for a moment. "Did you forget how to communicate to people other than your new little girlfriend?"

"I can communicate just fine," it's you with the problem.

"Well then don't just sit there and stare at me."

"I told you I am letting you speak, judging from your text it seemed as though you had a lot to say,"

"What is this? What are you doing?" her hands go to her hips and I know it's killing her to not be able to read a single emotion from me, to not get an answer to any of her questions that she refuses to ask aloud. She idly taps her right foot on the floor impatiently reminding me of a child who was about to jump up and down while throwing their fit but she manages to remain still for the most part.

"I have some things to say to you, some very not nice things so I am letting you go first. I am giving you the opportunity to say what is on your mind—since you say I'm inconsiderate. I want to completely hear what it is that has you so upset. I want you to make sure you get it all out because you can believe I plan too," her eyes widen just a bit and her foot stops tapping as she almost seems in shock of what I just said. But after a moment her eyes narrow once more and her tapping resumes, a little glisten in her otherwise darkened eyes—she thinks this is a game, a challenge of some kind.

Perhaps in a way it is.

"Well how sweet of you, guess you have a break in between dates." she stares at me waiting but earns nothing more than a continued silence. "I don't know what you're expecting Lauren, I said what I had to say."

"So there is nothing else?"

"No,"

"Nothing at all?" I ask again hardening my tone which had remained to have a reminiscence of gentleness to it until this moment.

She takes a deep breath as her features soften, her maddening tapping coming to a halt leaving her just standing there staring at me. Staring at me with this heartbreaking look that is undoubtedly a silent plea to stop now. It's a silent plea to not do this—to not make her say anything further.

It's another unspoken conversation summed up in one painful look.

"N—no."

I swallow back the rising pain or maybe it's disgust—possibly both. I had honestly thought my breaking point was when I heard the phone go off again. I didn't even bother to check who the text was from I just found myself storming over here without another thought. I was so sure that everything had finally boiled to the surface and I broke when I heard that vile little buzz-but I was wrong.

This moment was my breaking point.

This exact moment that I found myself standing here before her giving her the chance to say what she felt aloud. Good, bad—in between I was giving her the chance. Giving her the chance to tell me to fuck off, that she loved Dyson, that she wanted him. Giving her the chance to call me a bitch for ditching her to go with Alicia. Giving her the chance to tell me she loved me. Giving her the chance to say—anything.

But here she stood staring at me with this agonizing look with this heart-wrenching pain in her eyes that is asking me why I am doing this to her. With this look that is begging me to leave this where it was because the repercussions could be far worse than anything else we had experienced together.

The sad fact was that had she spoke those words aloud, just those simple words asking me to stop I would have. I would have pulled her into my arms and kissed the pain away. I would have broke in her embrace and we would have forgotten the world waiting for us, but she didn't. Even if she had just said no I would have left it alone, but she didn't. She stood there speaking volumes with these damn looks that just represented more unspoken words expecting me to know what they mean, expecting me to oblige her once again and ignore my own pain, my own feelings as I always do.

This moment was my breaking point.

"You are a coward," she doesn't speak she just swallows back her building tears and looks at me as if she knows, another entire conversation being summed up in a single look. "How dare you of all people call me inconsiderate. All I am is considerate of you Bo. Everything I do I make sure to take consideration of your feelings first,"

"Is that why I had to find out about Nadia from Evony?"

"That was different,"

"Did you consider my feelings when you fucked me for the Ash?"

"That was-"

"Different?" she takes another deep breath and clenches her jaw and fists alike.

"I did those things to protect you, to protect your feelings."

"Well you did a shitty job."

"I didn't think she would ever wake up, I thought she for all intensive purposes was dead. I had spent years looking for a cure and never got any closer than where I had started. You think I planed for you Bo? You think I ever expected for you to come crashing into my life?"

"Well sorry to ruin your plans I wasn't exactly expecting to come crashing into your life either."

"I told you that I had done that because I wanted to keep you safe, because I didn't want you to get hurt. But once I kissed you—i knew what I had been feeling was real—when will you forgive me for that?"

"Never," her words are a broken whisper and her eyes drop to the floor as she says it, something I'm grateful for since I'm ninety-nine percent sure if she had been looking at me when she said it I wouldn't have been able to keep my tears from slipping.

For several heartbeats we stand there in silence and it hurts to even breath. Hurts to look at her so I finally tear my eyes from her face and look past her at the door, zeroing in on the little black dot that is the peep-hole. It's a known fact if you can focus on one thing so intently that you can tune out the pain your feeling—it doesn't seem to be working for me.

"I may have gone there with the intent to keep you away from Vex by any means necessary because I was ordered too. But I wanted to keep you safe because I wanted to. And I slept with you not because it was the only thing I knew to do but because I wanted to. Because I wanted to know the feel of your lips on mine and how it would sound to hear you moan my name. I wanted to know how it felt to have you look at me the way you look at him. I wanted to lose myself in you—in this feeling I had for you—even if it was just once. I didn't sleep with you because I was ordered to Bo, I did that on my own freewill."

"Fine." she clears her throat and looks up at me, not in my eyes but at my face. "I don't want to do this anymore. You don't want to leave fine, we'll go in the morning."

"That's right walk away like you always do."

"I don't walk away from anything,"

"All you do is walk away Bo. You walk away from what you want to say, from what you feel, from what you think—I can't tell though if it is because you are that big of a coward or because you just don't care enough."

"So what you just decided to come over here to start a fight?"

"That's right Bo, change the subject. Shift the blame back onto me," snorting to hide a whimper as I feel my tears on the verge of slipping.

I don't know what I thought this would be. Maybe I thought she would finally open up and fight for me. Maybe I thought she would finally turn me down once and for all setting me free. Maybe I thought I would yell and take out all of my frustration out on her and finally feel better. Maybe I thought we would trade a few barbs and then we would have this crazy, angry sex that would be mind blowing and trick me into thinking she loved me. Maybe I thought—maybe I thought a lot of things.

I stand and clench my jaw trying every trick I knew to keep from letting her see me cry. I keep my eyes on the floor as I start to walk for the door as quickly yet as calmly as I can. I refuse to run from her I am simply doing what I should have done a long time ago and walk away.

I am not running.

I make it a single step past her when I feel her hand wrap around my wrist with roughness I never expected from her. The second her fingers dig into my skin she is jerking me back, my body slamming into hers. Her hands grabbing my wrists holding me in place, her lips smashing into mine so hard I feel my skin scrape against my teeth and a faint taste of blood fills my mouth.

She uses a trick she knows well using her own lips to part mine only this time it's not as affectionate as I remember it too be. It hard, rough almost forceful and had she been anyone else in this world I would have hit her. Her tongue pushes it's way into my mouth and I swear I won't react, I swear up and down I won't respond to her but as I am telling myself this I realize I already am.

It is a kiss unalike any we have shared before, unalike any I have shared with anyone for that fact. It's forceful, near violent and hungry. There is an intensity on both parts almost as if we are trying to out do the other. It's amazing in some ways and heartbreaking in others.

My body is melting into her's as it always does, it's no longer trying to run for the door but rather get as close to hers as possible. Just as much of an anger continues to burn in the pit of my stomach there is now a desire which my body is far more accustom too. As much as my heart hurts because of her it's now beating in a rhythm known only for when she touches me. My body is slowly betraying me with every passing heartbeat and I can feel myself slipping into her.

In the back of my mind I can begin to hear this tiny voice tell me it is okay to let this go. Telling me that I know she loves me—she doesn't need to say it. Telling me to give into my body. Telling me that I am not as hurt and angry at her as I think I am—I'm just tired. Telling me that once I surrender to her all the pain and doubt will wash away in an instant and I know its true.

She lets go of my wrists becoming satisfied with how I am reacting and they fly to my hips holding me in place and instinctively my hands fly into her already tussled hair pulling her closer to me as I always do.

I need her like I need air. I don't know when or how this happened to me but somewhere along the way I became dependent on her. Dependent on her body, on her touch to make me feel alive. Dependent on her smiles to brighten my day. Dependent on her glances to make me know I'm worth noticing. Dependent on her words to make feel like everything is going to be okay. Dependent on every single thing about her for one reason or another.

As the kiss pulls me in deeper I remember all the times she was there for me, when our silence worked for us. When she killed Nadia for me. When she just held me all night long when I came to her needing comfort. When she she looked at me on my exam table. The way she looks at me every time after something happens to make sure I am okay. I remember all the reasons why we've-why I've allowed silence to remain for so long.

I was never someone to sit down and talk about every little feeling I had nor was I someone who got hurt easily but this was just too much. It was all just too much for anyone to handle.

Holding onto what little composer I had left, what little self control remained, my hands slid from her hair down to her face and pushed her back. Her eyes fly open and she is staring into mine, her hands reach up grabbing my wrists once again but this time the hold is gentle and unsteady and I realize that her hands are shaking.

"I won't do this—-I can't do this again,"

"Why?" it's a whimper as she nuzzles into my hands that I haven't yet tried to pull away. "Don't you want me?" it's another whimper that equally breaks my heart as much as it infuriates me. Why can't she just understand?

"I want you so much that it hurts. I want you so much that I am willing to ignore everything inside myself just to have you—but I am asking you not to make me,"

"Lauren,"

"You won't ask me what you want to. You won't ask me if I did anything with Alicia. You won't ask me why I am so hurt—so angry at you. You won't try and make an effort to make me forget. You won't walk five freaking steps to check on me yourself. You won't even ask me on a real date—," I jerk my hands away from her embrace and take a step back as I struggle to breathe. "But I am asking you to do this one little thing for me. I am asking you, pleading with you to not make me give into you tonight."

"Please," she whispers as she starts to reach out for me taking a step forward as I take one back.

"All you would have to do is give me that little smile and look you give me that makes the world disappear. Or say my name in only the way you know how. Maybe just a little innocent touch. Or another kiss—maybe some halfhearted words—that's all it would take and I'm yours. It's pathetic I know but it's that simple so I am asking you to let me go,"

She takes these small steps as I am taking them away from her but as I finish speaking she stops moving. She doesn't reach out for me, she doesn't whisper or whimper she just comes to this sudden halt and remains perfectly still with the exception of the stray tear that slips from the corner of her eye.

It takes everything in me not to go to her and pull her in my arms and kiss those tears away but instead I reach behind myself grabbing a hold of the door handle. I pull it open and stare at her again, hoping she will stop me. Silently asking her to tell me something—anything but she doesn't.

Slipping from the room I walk the few steps to my door ignoring the looks I get from the young couple who is passing by. I guess I am getting used to that, pity looks from strangers. Finding refuge in my room I practically run for the bedroom. Looking around the room I begin searching out my things, the small black travel bag which is luckily still packed. My shoes underneath the chair where it rested. My jacket draped over the arm. Everything ready for an easy escape.

Walking to the bed I push through the covers to find my phone that I had thrown when I heard it go off. Picking it up I see the '27 New Messages' across the locked screen and I want to scream, I want to throw my phone right out of the window but there is this sick, twisted, need to know now—know if it was in fact her who had texted me the text which caused this.

.

Bo: I just realized you might be sleeping...(11:59 p.m.)

Bo: '…..I'm sorry...Text me when you're up and maybe then you wanna get something to eat. Cause I'm still starving ;-) (11:59 a.m.)

.

I don't bother to look at the other twenty-five messages, instead I just drop the phone back onto the bed and sit. A fresh rush of anger and hurt coming over me. A fresh wave of guilt and embarrassment.

Was she inconsiderate and immature and a coward? Yes without a doubt. But she was also sweet, and caring and did things in her own way. Was I wrong—maybe. Was she wrong—maybe. Were we both wrong—yes.

I hear the sound of the front door slamming and the heavy footsteps nearing my bedroom door, it's exactly fifteen stomps before the door almost flys open and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean to do that but there is look about her. This look that is pure anger and pure hurt—pure fright. Her hands are shaking and her breathing labored, a pinkness to her cheeks that wasn't there a few minutes ago and it's obvious she waited until she could stop crying to come over here to do whatever it is she wants to do.

I take a deep breath and shift slightly so I am able to see her better. Something inside me making peace with what was about to happen. Who needed self control—i would take comfort in her as I always did for one last time. But when we got back home this would be it. I don't care what I would have to go through I would not be working with or seeing her again. This would be the end.

"I haven't slept with Dyson in months, I haven't even tired or even really thought about it partly because I know it's hard for him and partly because he isn't the one I want to be kissing. And yeah I didn't come over here because I didn't wanna find you Mrs. Little Perfect cover of Vogue chick in the middle of something. I know I have no right to be jealous or possessive of you. But I am! And I can't help it. Maybe it's a personality flaw or maybe it is another stupid, stupid set back of being a stupid succubus. You want honesty Lauren? I can't stand the thought, it drives me insane—like to scary levels to where I have to question what's wrong with myself once I calm down."

"Bo..."

"And yeah okay so maybe I push the sex thing with us a bit but it's because your hot and beautiful and like a porn star in bed—not that I am comparing you to one just-I am not sophisticated and I am not into books and science or anything like that and you are. And you like me—you care about me and I am afraid that once you see there isn't much beyond being good in bed and being able to protect you that you'll realize you can do so much better. But I know that I can protect you and I know I can keep you-satisfied so I stick to what I know. And when we're making love or having sex or fucking I can say things—you say things you don't normally and it's nice. And we cuddle and we touch and it's-"

She pauses to catch her breath and I want to go to her but I find myself frozen just staring at her as she is slowly breaking in front of me.

"I am sorry that I hurt you, more than you will ever know. And I am sorry I made you feel embarrassed. I'm sorry that I made you feel less than special because to me this is nothing more special than you. I am sorry I am not better,"

"Bo," I let out standing, tears freely falling from both of our eyes.

"That night was amazing Lauren, it was amazing because you showed me new sides of you. It was amazing because you trusted me enough to let me see you like that. It was amazing because you were amazing. I'm sorry I didn't—I'm sorry I didn't let you know that. I'm sorry I didn't let you know it was okay to trust me with that part of yourself,"

Well she finally got it—why doesn't it feel better to know she realized what she did wrong? She is standing here admitting she was wrong, apologizing for hurting my feelings—showing she actually put effort into figuring it out but somehow this didn't feel like a victory.

I had let her see parts of me that night, tried new things and been adventurous—yeah it wasn't a sex swing or anything outrageous but it was new for me. It was me trusting her in ways I hadn't. It was me indulging in a side I pretend isn't there. It may have been insignificant to most but to me it was something—it was a big deal. And when she was already up and dressed in the morning and ready to leave never once mentioning it—it hurt. I was hurt and embarrassed and then to find out she blew me off for him I just-maybe I'm not as mature as I like to think I am—or maybe it has nothing to do with maturity.

"Goodnight Lauren," I look up just as she shuts the door behind herself leaving me standing there staring at the white painted wood waiting for her to come back but it's a wait I know is pointless.

Maybe our problem has nothing to do with maturity or consideration or even jealousy but the simple fact that we just keep hurting each other. Maybe the problem is that amongst this little dance we do with insanity we never realized that when it comes to each other maybe we are more sensitive than we would like to admit.

Maybe silent pleas and unspoken words weren't a form of running but rather our own secret way of dealing with realizations we just weren't ready to come to grips with.