unsteady

backwards, part two

"Sean," she froze. "I had no idea."

"No no," he said, shaking his head and putting up a hand. "I'm not done. You ever loved something, Kayc?"

"My sister."

"Something," he said angrily, patience lost. "Or are you too selfish for that too?"

She was silent. "I have," he spoke. "I loved dance. And cooking. And have you ever loved something so much, but it made you gay, and some people were afraid of that? You lost all your friends? You got bullied out of your school? How many times," he shook before looking at her, "do you think an 8 year old can hear the word freak before he snaps? How many, huh?" he looked at her, eyes blazing. "Not many, that's for damn sure," he said angrily. "And you say I don't know what you feel. Maybe I don't know, not exactly, but I know pretty damn close," he snapped. "I thought you were different, Kaycee. Maybe you really are just so selfish that it doesn't ever get any better for you than this."

"Sean," she said suddenly, reaching for his hand. "Please don't go."

"Why?" he asked, forcing himself not to instantly turn around. "If you're going to die, then pardon me for not wanting to get attached too easily."

"I need you," she said softly. "I can't do this on my own anymore."

He took her hand and let her pull him close. "I never," he breathed out, his anger slowly fading as he stared into her eyes and pushed her hair back behind her ears, cupping her chin in the one fell movement, "Said you had to." His hand landed in front of her, and he nodded to her. "Come on, Kayc," he coaxed. "You're better than this."

She gently placed the razor in his palm, and he shakily exhaled as his fingers closed around the dangerous piece of plastic. "Thank you," he broke. "God, I love you."

His hands were wrapped around her head, and she held onto him as if he were her lifeline, because in that moment, and many others, he was.

Slowly and gently, she pulled off his shirt, he kicked aside his boxers, and she ran her hands through his hair, their lips never parting for more than a second. They moved back into the shower, the water purifying them of the inhumanely cruel and brutal acts they considered inflicting on themselves for a temporary pause, as they connected. The steam rose and the water hissed, but neither he nor her said a word as the water burned their backs, a danger they both secretly adored, an ironic metaphor that so perfectly suited the both of them, always pushing, dancing around their limits, one more movement one too much and causing serious injury.

Just enough to suffer.

At least now, they were suffering together.

"Will you stop fighting me now and let me fight with you?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

She nodded, intertwining his fingers with hers and leaning up to give him a kiss. "I'm done fighting," she said. "At least I'm done fighting you."

"Why'd you do it, then?" he asked, trembling. He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't help himself. 

"You know how you told me, when you first met, you were an insomniac?" she asked him simply. He shook his head yes, unsure of where it was going.

"Well," she sighed. "I'm an opportunist."

_______

Kaycee

__

She knew he might hate her, but it felt better to say it out loud. That she wasn't actually better, that she was still dangerous, and now she'd only reaffirmed her notion that not only was she a danger to herself, but now without a doubt, anything she did would hurt him. But her staying alive was also a burden on his person. He really shouldn't have been dragged into her mess. It was a freak accident that they met, and they never should have, and sometimes she wished they didn't, so he wouldn't have to deal with her. She only brought him down, she knew that.