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but always he came back to this, the need to find consistency in his life higher than he would ever be proud to admit, almost stronger than his pride but not quite, because revealing how he longed for something stable was like throwing your arms up in surrender. and he would never submit. could not.
maybe that was why he could only find peace when he was with him, in the dark of the night when their shadows were nothing more than souls trying to blend into their surroundings, when the sounds of gunshots and traffic were merely echoing, easily overpowered by hot whispers and the rustling of dirty sheets. because only then would he be free, really free.
but it wasn’t the kind of freedom that let him wander wherever he wanted, roaming streets and watching the evening sun reflect in the glass of abandoned buildings, but the kind that made him let go, let go of everything he stubbornly kept around himself for protection, a shield against the world and everyone in it. a shield against himself, because no matter how hard he tried to focus all his anger on the people around, he couldn’t deny the repulsion he felt for himself, when the heat of the fight was over and the pain couldn’t distract him anymore. and when he was lying there, mattress soft under the moonlight sneaking through the curtains, he could forget about all of that. soft touches being in sharp contrast with the wounds they traced, soothing places in his mind he thought nobody would ever be able to reach. the warmth so much different than the rain he was way too used to, and so, so much better, almost like a fire there to soothe him instead of burn, but- fuck- so much hotter.
the light scraping of teeth and the whimpers mixed together in a cocktail so beautifully intoxicating that he couldn’t help but drink drink drink, the feeling seeping into his body and consuming his mind. it was addictive, the feeling of belonging, and somewhere, far back in his mind, he knew it wasn’t true, that he was fooling himself, but the hands were so tender against his scarred skin and the desperate pants drowned out what was remaining of his sanity and he fell, fell, the same way he did every time but the familiarity only added to it, and it felt so good, so hot, so real. that he knew it couldn’t last forever, and he clung onto that feeling, legs wrapped around the warmth that made his reality disappear and teeth digging into his own raw lips. he didn’t taste the iron as his chest heaved, breathing in the sweaty air and he stilled. the next few moments were spent armed with solely tongues, and teeth, and desperation because they both wanted it, that last drop of the illusion before it was gone and they were both left exhausted and drained. but the moment fled away like birds escaping the cold and he was the one to pull away first, not wanting to but needing to, and still he couldn’t bring himself to say something, his mind not being able to form proper words just yet, so he twisted his body and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling that seemed too far away in the darkness. for a second there was a lingering of the fingers dipping into his hip bones, before they went away too and that strange feeling of emptiness returned. the silence was filled with nothing but after-breaths and make-believe regret before that familiar voice spoke up, and it sounded almost too loud in the small room, but he subconsciously welcomed it like they were flowers in the winter. ‘do you love me now?’ but this time, the voice cracked, and he caught himself actually thinking about the answer, before muttering out the usual ‘no’, and the body moved away without a word, stood up and walked out. and for the first time, for just a moment, he wished that he didn’t.