|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 1:30 pm
There had been a certain oddity to Shiloh’s usual way of life as of their return but he attested it was due to everything that had gone, everything that had happened in a world of dreams that had seemed so vividly real. He was having his own trouble readjusting; his head swimming with confusion, with words and thoughts that he was sure were better left unsaid. His method of coping had fallen into a regular routine of work and training, because if he exhausted himself, he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to come to terms with anything. He could just pretend, for the time being, that none of it existed. It was likely then, that though he noticed Ian’s absences, his quietness, he tucked them away too. A bit of his dream self had carried over in that way, not actually but because he’d seen the behavior, remembered the selfishness of it and he knew it wasn’t better but for now, it was easier. It was easier to not have to ask the hard questions, to not deal with the even harder answers. He could have left it like, could have just let things go but that wasn't Shiloh, it wasn’t in his nature. And being alone didn’t make anything easier, when there was someone he wanted to be beside, someone he wanted to care about, someone he was worried about, someone that he loved. It had been a few too many days of limited texts, of an absence that had made the darkness of his room at night unbearable, and when it finally came to it that there was no response at all, he went looking for Ian, concern far outweighing any need for his own self-preservation. He’d been heading back from his duties and his phone remained dark, no answer and Shiloh worried. It wasn’t like him to worry, tempering his fears normally with his optimism, thinking that of course Ian would be okay, of course nothing had happened, Ian was smart, Ian was strong, they’d survived this long. But things had happened, things he couldn’t explain, things he couldn’t stop and he couldn’t protect Ian, couldn’t try, if he didn’t know where he was. He knew he wouldn’t find Ian waiting for him in his room, but he checked anyway before heading off to Ian’s, finding it too empty. Quinn hadn’t seen him, nor Maebe or anyone, and the lounge and cafeteria and training fields too, were devoid of any sight of him. Shiloh’s worry escalated into panic when his searching turned up dead end after dead end, and it was only by chance that he headed down to the beach from the fields, and only by chance, and to his surprise, that he found Ian sitting there. There was no awkward standing there, no pause of silence, no waiting for Ian to say anything. As soon as he spotted him, Shiloh had made his way over and was kneeling down, wrapping his arms around Ian and hugging him. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice thankful.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 2:00 pm
He'd sat on the beach for what seemed like ages; a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade. It was difficult to determine just how much time had passed, mostly because Ian had stopped caring altogether whether it was morning or night or somewhere in between.
Time had not stood still for him when he had needed it to the most, so he had stopped paying attention to it.
His room was mostly in shambles; the desk was broken, collapsed from his fight with Alistaire that morning. Papers, books, and clothing were all strewn haphazardly across the floor, and a broken bottle of scotch lay on its side, leaking amber liquid out onto the carpet and leaving behind a thick stain. The covers to the bed, however, remained strangely untouched; flattened neatly across the bed, with the pillows tucked atop as though they had been set by a maid.
No one had slept in that bed for quite some time.
He found little solace anywhere on Deus. The beach, where he had sat before, was the only place that he felt even remotely comfortable, listening to the sounds of the waves as they crashed towards him, the sand soft and dry beneath his bare feet. He wasn't wearing his new Intermediate coat, just a plain black teeshirt and a pair of artfully faded and torn jeans. His shoes lay beside him, Ian having kicked them off sometime earlier, though he had no recollection of doing so.
He didn't hear the footsteps on the sand, nor even sense Shiloh's presence, but he did feel the arms that wrapped around him, warm and gentle and so very, very, achingly familiar. Shiloh's appearance had been half expected, but Ian didn't make a move to return the embrace; instead, he sat there and continued staring out in front of him, his legs half drawn up to his chest, his arms resting across his knees.
"Hey, hot stuff," he said quietly. "Glad to see you're okay."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 5:07 pm
At first he was hugging too tightly to notice that Ian hadn’t budged an inch, his arms still neatly resting atop his knees. It took him a few moments before he realized the hug was totally one-sided, and slowly he let go, pushing Ian’s shoes aside and settling into the sand next to him. Ian was okay, but at the same time, he was entirely not. Shiloh didn’t press him on it, not yet, though he was full to the brim with questions he wanted to ask. His eyes followed Ian’s gaze out to sea as he sidled next to him, cozying up to him like a lovesick puppy, his shoulder bumping gently into his. He didn’t know what was wrong, or where to start, and part of him wondered if just keeping his mouth closed was the best option, but he’d never been particularly good at that. He wanted to make Ian happy, to make him smile, he didn’t know how to leave things be. “Hey handsome,” he answered, smiling and his tone light, sneaking his hand beneath Ian’s, and pulling it down between them with a squeeze. “Tornado must have hit your room, huh?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 6:28 pm
If he was aware of Shiloh's clinging, he made no mention of it, Ian's fingers tightening ever so slightly on his own hand as the waves in front of them slid back and forth, leaving white foamy residue behind before it melted away into the sand. Ian wasn't really cold, but Shiloh's warmth was a startling contrast to the light breeze that blew in from the ocean.
The fingers that touched him startled him out of his inner musings, Ian jumping a little. He looked sideways at Shiloh as though he'd only just realized he was there, and then down at their linked hands almost contemplatively. Physical affection was always what he turned to when he could think of nothing verbal to say. But it was also physical affection, verbal affection, any affection at all that had gotten them to this point in time.
It was letting his guard down that had brought the pain.
"Oh," he said belatedly, "Yeah. My brother dropped by earlier, we, ah...had a bit of a conversation, so to speak."
The silence stretched out between them, awkward and tense and stiff. The emotions were there, just beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over at any moment, and it was taking all of Ian's willpower to keep them at bay. He shifted a little, his hand cold against Shiloh's warm one.
"Hey, Shy," he said, and looked back out at the ocean, his gaze somewhat unfocused. "When you died, was it painful?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 8:25 pm
The sand was cold against his legs but he hardly noticed it, not when compared to coldness of Ian next to him, the lack of his usual warmth, his usual affection, his usual anything. Ian looked entirely out of it, and Shiloh glanced at him, still worried. But he hadn’t moved his hand away, and Shiloh rubbed his thumb against Ian’s cool skin gently. Whether he was trying to soothe him or Ian, he wasn’t sure. “Must have been some conversation,” Shiloh said, trying to joke, putting another smile on his face but it didn’t stop the silence or heavy awkwardness from settling between them. He wondered if Alistaire had said something, if he was to blame for this. Shiloh hardly knew the guy and perhaps, he thought, that put him in no place to judge but if he’d done anything to hurt Ian, Shiloh was prepared to have a ‘conversation’ with the guy himself. He was brushing the hair out of his eyes when Ian spoke, and surprised he looked up, trying to figure Ian out but Ian wasn’t looking at him, instead staring again at the water, seeming a million miles away. To be honest, he’d never really thought about it. It had been one of those things left tucked away, and it was simple enough, as long as he kept himself busy, as long as he squinted in the mirror and pretended that the scars were fading, the mental ones would too. It was his turn to instinctively pull his knees closer to himself at Ian’s question, wondering why of all questions, that had been the one to come up. “Yeah,” he said softly, honestly. “I think… At least part of it was, when my shield was down, and then you’re just a normal person and the pain hits you like you’re normal and it hurt like nobody’s business. But I mean, it was so fast and then… Then everything’s dark and you don’t feel anything… So I mean I guess, maybe, I don’t know if it’s dying that hurts or just the pain leading up to it or… I dunno, I don’t remember much except it hurt, and then there was nothing, ‘til I woke up.” He shivered a little, remembering it, and nuzzled up to Ian. He’d given him the cliff notes version, the short summary because even that had been more than he was willing to talk about, but he wanted to give him something. “Why’d you ask? Are you okay, Ian?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 8:49 pm
"The pain hits you like you're normal."
How long had it been since he was "normal?" Ian couldn't really remember. Even before Deus, even before he'd let down the barrier around his heart, he'd been isolated from those around him; a part of the world, but not in the world, not really. He'd always been a little different, a little stranger. When he was young, it was because of the shadows. When he was older, it was because of his preferences.
Either way, "normal" was not a word that fit into Ian's life.
And, now that he thought of it, Shiloh's question echoing in his ear, neither was "okay."
He studied the way the waves moved, the foam they left behind, the little spots of white and blue and gray and sometimes, a faint green that mingled with the varying shades of sand brown. What exactly did okay even mean? Was it okay as in the sense that he was still alive and breathing? Was it okay in the sense that the world was still moving around him even if one particular world was coming rapidly to an end?
He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.
Ian twisted his body, pulling his hand free of Shiloh's, and instead placing it flat against his chest. In one swift movement he'd pushed Shiloh onto his back and rolled fully onto him, his fingers closing over Shiloh's wrists and pressing them flat against the cool sand in an almost painfully tight grip; and his mouth had found Shiloh's; a messy, angry, roughly bruising kiss because maybe he could feel something if he tried hard enough, maybe he could lose himself in this person, this beautiful person that he'd grown to care for more than almost anyone else in the entire world, maybe if he just pressed himself close enough to Shiloh, he could feel -
It wasn't working. He couldn't feel anything, except -
Except -
Ian tore his mouth away from Shiloh's with a gasp, his head spinning, and for a moment he just lay there, his hands still holding Shiloh's wrists in the sand, and looked down and him, at Shiloh, his favorite person -
- and then slowly, he leaned back, climbing off of Shiloh and sinking down in the sand beside him.
"I can't do this."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 10:01 pm
He waited patiently for Ian’s answer, because that’s what he did, that’s what he wanted to do. He’d wait out here all night on the sand with Ian, if it were what he needed, if it would help. He wasn’t sure why Ian was asking, or what he expected in an answer, but it’d be okay, he’d help Ian through whatever he needed helping with. The answer he got, however, was something he’d never expected at all. Ian moved suddenly, without warning and the next thing Shiloh knew he was on his back staring up at him, eyes wide, startled before Ian’s lips found his in a kiss too rough, too angry, too abrupt to be anything but unpleasant because it wasn’t like Ian, it wasn’t right, as much as Ian didn’t feel anything from it, neither could Shiloh, squirming beneath him, grateful when he let go. Breathless, he stared up at Ian, his face filled with confusion. “Wha-” he started to ask, but then Ian was moving again, rolling off of him and into the sand. “Can’t do what?” he asked instead, sitting up and wiping his mouth. “ That? ‘Cause, no kidding you can’t, geeze. I know you’re hurting, Ian, but warn me next time, or something, you know? You know how I feel about that…” He furrowed his brow, out of further confusion or hurt he didn’t know himself. He loved Ian, of course he wanted to kiss him, always but not like that, not like this. He glanced down at his boyfriend, flattened out against the sand, and he shook his head a little, trying to clear it. “What can’t you do?” he asked again, gentler this time, any sort of chastising gone from his voice. “Do you mean like, the island, like Deus?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 3:13 pm
He felt like ice, not just on the outside, but the inside as well; a terrible coldness spreading from his heart outwards, spindles of ice slowly making their way throughout his entire body. He could still the confused look on Shiloh's face after that awful kiss, the flush of annoyance and of bemusement, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from trying, from trying to feel something other than this horrible coldness.
Ian sat up again and hunched over his legs, his fingers linked around to the back of his neck, his forehead touching his knees. Dimly he was aware that Shiloh was trying to talk to him, trying to understand what was wrong, but when everything was wrong, there was nothing to say that hadn't already been said, nothing to be done that hadn't already been done. Ian's fingers clenched on his neck, and he shook his head from side to side.
{ Don't do this. }
Naomi's voice, as always, startled him. He and the weapon had never really been close, perhaps, in the sense that a lot of hunters and their weapons were - like he should have been - but still, there were times when he almost felt as though was trying to understand him.
Do what? he thought, but he knew the answer already.
{ You know what. Don't do this. }
I have to.
{ No. You don't. I'm telling you, don't do this to him, or to you. }
You've never cared about me before, why start now? he thought bitterly, and he could almost feel her visibly recoil, a low hiss of anger and humiliation echoing throughout his head.
But then it dissipated, slipping away into nothing but a quiet sadness.
{ I've always cared about you. Why do you think I am so hard on you? }
Ian shook his head again.
No more, he thought, no more. No more of this, no more of that.
No more of anything.
Slowly he unwound his arms from around his neck and lowered them to rest on his knees, Ian staring fixedly at the ocean in front of him. Maybe if he thought hard enough, he'd be able to sink away into it and disappear, and take the pain away with it.
"You," he said. "I mean you."
His chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.
"I can't do us anymore."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 4:12 pm
"You," Ian said. "I mean you."The waves crashed against the shore, but Ian’s words stung him far worse than the cool sea air, chilling him to the very bone as he sat there, blinking and his mouth agape. You. That singular word echoed over and over in his head and he floundered like a fish out of water, trying desperately to gasp for air, for something to say but all he could do was open his mouth and close it uselessly. He was already kicking himself for not having been here sooner, if he’d only pulled himself together sooner, maybe he would have understood what was going, understood why Ian was acting this way. He didn’t blame Ian for being mad, if you loved someone you were supposed to be there for them and Shiloh hadn’t been, he hadn’t been there for the fight with Alistaire, hadn’t been there when Ian had needed him, hadn’t – he forced himself to stop thinking any further, because the lump was already welling in his chest as he stared at Ian, his Ian, his warmth, watching as it seeped out into the water along with Ian’s fixed stare. He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand at all, and he placed a tentative hand on Ian’s shoulder, biting his lip to keep it from shaking, in an effort to steady his fingers. It couldn’t be, this couldn’t be right, he didn’t understand… “Ian? What do you mean? Did I do something wrong? If I did, I didn’t mean to, I promise and if you just tell me what it is, I can try fix it, we can try to work through it, right? Like we always do, you know? I’m here for you, Ian, you can talk to me.” I can fix me, he thought, I can be better, don’t do this. I love you, he wanted to say. But he didn’t want to believe that this could exist, that an end could exist, he refused. It would be okay, it would be okay, and it would be okay. There was always a bright side to things, a bit of sun after the storm, this was just a rough patch and he was sure they could weather it. Ian couldn’t possibly mean it… He was just having a bad day… If Shy was just patient… “Ian?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 4:39 pm
He didn't look at Shiloh. He couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the look on his face, which he knew would look as though he'd been slapped, his cheeks flushed with bright red that would stain his face like a blush except it wasn't a blush, it was embarrassment and pain and confusion. He wasn't going to turn around and see the terrible look on Shiloh's face, the expression of hurt and of a stunned horror, because he knew it would be there, like a brand, forever imprinting itself onto Ian's mind
There were so many things he wanted to say.
It's not you.
I don't want to hurt you.
I don't want to lose you.
I can't lose you.
I want you. I still want you, I've always wanted you.
I lo -
"No."
He forced the word out through gritted teeth, pushing himself to his feet. The wind brushed against the nape of his neck, tousling the hair there, and he could almost feel Shiloh's fingers sifting through the dark locks, hear the sound of his voice as he leaned close, pressing a laughing kiss to his cheek. His chest felt so tight it was physically painful, a searing ache that wouldn't quite go away.
"I told you once," Ian said, and he still couldn't look at him. "I told you once I wasn't a very good person. I can't do this, Shiloh, not anymore. This just isn't me."
A long exhale. He closed his eyes.
"I'm breaking up with you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 5:10 pm
The hand drew back, stung, as Ian stood, and Shiloh stared at it, stared at his empty fingers and then up at Ian, his eyes imploring, pleading, but it didn’t matter, because Ian wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t turn to him and Shiloh broke, frustrated, because he didn’t know what else to do. “That’s not a reason, Ian, it’s just… That’s not a good reason and you know it!” His voice had started off soft but grew steadily, but for Shiloh the crescendo never amounted to yelling, not at Ian, it was only a softness that grew to barely speaking, a fervent whisper of anguish, of hurt. “If you have to… If you’re going to do this, at least have the decency to tell me why. You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not, that’s an excuse, because that way you don’t have to say what you really feel and I know you felt something! So, so, why, why! That’s the least you could do, tell me why, why you want to…” He was standing now, his hand reaching for Ian’s arm, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. He’d never pictured himself like this, begging when he’d already been given an answer, pathetic and refusing to believe but then he’d never pictured this moment, never pictured breaking up with Ian. Breaking up hadn’t been a part of his childish fantasies of romance, hadn’t entered the equation yet here he was, confused and afraid and angrily clinging to Ian, as if he could somehow stop him from leaving. As if he hadn’t already made up his mind. As if he would somehow turned around, and laugh and say it was all just a joke, and Shiloh would think it was an entirely unfunny joke but then at least that would be all it was, it wouldn’t be real, it wouldn’t be final, it wouldn’t be tearing apart at his chest worse than any axe ever could. “ Please, Ian.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 7:40 pm
Ian was still staring resolutely out towards the ocean, because if he looked at Shiloh, looked at his beautiful, familiar face, then he knew the resolve he had built up so carefully would break; that one look at this man beside him would dissolve the walls so cautiously constructed. A desperate, terribly selfish urge to reach out and grab Shiloh, to tell him that he was just kidding, that he wanted to stay with him, that he didn't mean any of it, came over Ian, strong and fiercely reminiscent of his previous desires.
And yet he couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it, because doing it - keeping ahold of Shiloh was greedy and something that was a reward, something - someone that Ian didn't deserve.
It was better this way, he told himself, easier.
{ Are you certain? }
Naomi's voice again, quiet.
Sure of what, Ian thought tiredly.
{ Are you sure that this is what you want? What you really want? }
Inside of his head, there was a long silence. Ian closed his eyes, swaying a little where he stood, his lips pressed together, and thought of every memory he had of Shiloh, from the first time they'd met, standing on this very beach, to their first kiss on the training field, to their real first kiss, curled up beside each other on Ian's bed -
- to the pain he'd felt when he'd thought he'd lost Shiloh, the agonizing sense of loss and fear and resentment and anger. To the overwhelming relief of knowing he was still alive, the swelling feelings of affection and something else, something he couldn't name, wouldn't name.
Yes, he thought. This is what I want.
Ian lifted his hand and gently laid it over Shiloh's. For a moment it almost seemed as though he had changed his mind, his fingers curling around Shiloh's where they lay clenched in his shirtfront. He lingered, for just a fraction of a second -
- and then very firmly pushed Shiloh's hand away from him, letting go.
"Because," said Ian quietly, "I don't love you."
And then he turned away, before Shiloh could see the agonized expression on his face, putting on a stoic, flat facade, beginning to step away, back to Deus, back to the place he knew would be waiting for him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 9:13 pm
When it came down to it, he thought he would’ve fought harder. But fighting for anything seemed impossible, when the world was crashing around him like the surf against the sand as Ian pushed his hand away, as Ian turned and began walking and all Shiloh could do was stand there, his eyes wide as he stared at his retreating backside, and he blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. He willed his legs to move, to run after Ian, to stop him, to do anything but what could he do? What in the hell could he do, if Ian didn’t want him, didn’t want this? His arm fell and hung limply at his side, uselessly, and he felt useless, felt useless and jumbled up and all messed up. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t supposed to end up this way, this wasn’t the way happily ever after went. "I did warn you - I said I was the wolf and that I wasn't a good person.” Shiloh hadn’t believed him then, and he didn’t believe him now, he still refused to believe it because even if… Even if Ian didn’t love him, that didn’t make him a bad person, it was just the way things were, it’s just how things went. They were a trial run and that run had failed, somehow, failed and Shiloh didn’t know why, he didn’t know what he’d done or what had happened, he didn’t know anything. He was still standing there when Ian finally disappeared from view, and it took a few minutes longer for it to parse, for it to sink in and when it finally did, he let himself sink into the sand, his fingers as cold as the tiny grains they buried themselves into and he sat there on the beach, alone, telling himself he wouldn’t cry, because he wasn’t the sort of person that did that, he repeated it over and over in his head as though the mantra would stop the tears that were already rolling down his cheek. Quote: "Did you mean it? What you said before, I mean...do you...really...l...love me?" “Yes, I did, Ian, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise. I care about you a lot, you know, and I want to stay with you for a long time too and I enjoy being with you and, and… I don’t know if that’s what love is, I mean I can’t exactly say I’m an expert but I know what I feel. I know that there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be, than here with you.” Pulling his knees to his chest, it was Shiloh’s turn to stare at the ocean, except his stare wasn’t unfocused or contemplated, it was blurry and broken and he couldn’t even bring himself to wipe his nose, grateful that he was alone, that there was no one there to ask if him if it was okay, because it finally wasn’t, it wasn’t okay, not in the slightest and he wanted to just sit there and blubber like a kid who’d lost his precious stuffed toy, like the ugly duckling he was, like Shyduck, who he wasn’t, who he wouldn’t be again, like the utterly downtrodden and foolish sap he was. "Because I don't love you.""Because I don't love you.""Because I don't love you."“Oh.” His chest felt like a ton of bricks, heavy and leaden and not nearly as numb as he wished it to be. He could have fought, he thought, he could have gone after Ian. But he was tired of fighting, tired of fighting the shadows, tired of fighting Deus, and the last thing on earth he wanted to fight was the very thing that had made him the happiest, the thing that had made the island bearable. Ian, chicken, goofball, handsome, his boyfriend, his best friend, the warmth that tucked him in at night, who acted like he loved him, who made Shiloh feel like he loved him, like he cared. He hadn’t been able to say the words but it didn’t matter because Shiloh knew anyway, because it didn’t matter to Shiloh, words, because he knew, he knew… Well, now he knew. --- The ocean had almost disappeared into the deepening horizon by the time he finally pushed himself up from the sand, his nose raw and his eyes red and his heart hurting. He’d cried over a lot of things, over all the things he’d wanted to cry over and hadn’t said a word, over all the things he couldn’t change, he couldn’t fix, and he’d cried over Ian. He’d wrestled back and forth, between trying to figure out how to fix things and leaving them alone, trying to understand, trying to figure out why this all had happened, why everything had gone so wrong. But, in the end, as he wiped his sleeve across his nose, he still didn’t understand at all. So it was with one last sob that he picked himself up, one last sniffle that he tripped over the shoes Ian had left behind. Then it was all tucked neatly away, sealed in with a heavy sigh as he picked up the shoes and headed back towards the light of the dorms. Each step pushed it down, one, two, three, four, and by the time he stepped inside it was just a dull ache, tempered with numbness and the catatonic feeling left after any emotional outburst. He had to pass by Ian’s room anyway, and he set his shoes gently, silently in front of his door before moving to his own room. He didn’t bother turning on the light, or getting undressed. He made sure to lock the door, and then he crawled into bed. At least for tonight, he was giving up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
