Damien

The Prompt: Write the same character twice- once to make someone like them, once to make them hate them.

It's in his eyes, his cool blue eyes, as he touches your cheek. You blush and want to turn away, but he's too close. He leans down, closing the gap. In this moment he becomes your everything, too close for you to see anything else. His lips graze yours softly, tenderly, before he pulls back. Your eyes open and you're only just aware that they were closed. His lips pull into a smile and his eyes light up. He leans in for another kiss, this time lingering. He's intoxicating. You feel drunk off his affection, wanting him to never stop, never let go. His lips pull away, but he stays close. They trace your jawline, your cheek, reaching your ear before he pauses, arms holding you to him.

"I love you."

~

His hand keeps a tight grip on your arm and his eyes flash angrily. You don't know what you did wrong, but you've paid for it over and over again, each time his fists met your stomach, chest, and back. You expect a foul word or insult to fly from his mouth. Instead he drops your arm and it falls limply to your side, nothing more than dead weight. You lean on the bed for support, pretending you quiver from exhaustion, not in fear of the man you love. A weight causes the bed to shift and you know it's him, but you don't look up. You can never face him after. His tender touch traces along your shoulders which you know will be mottled with bruises come morning. Then his lips meet your neck.

"I love you."

Don't Scream

The Prompt: Don’t scream.

It’s just a dream. It’s not real. A nightmare. Yes, it’s only a nightmare. You can survive a nightmare. In a few hours you’ll open your eyes, roll over in bed, and wake up to the light of a new morning. You’ll see. You’ll be fine.

So don’t scream.

The sheets tighten around you. You feel smothered. They’re suffocating you and you want to gasp out for air. Your lungs beg for oxygen and you want to comply, to fill them. Your hands clench around the blankets, clumps in your hands, but you still can’t breathe. Not without screaming.

Please don’t scream.

His hands on you, burning holes through your skin. You’d expect to see scars in the morning, if it weren’t a dream. He moves. His hand slides down your chest, past your waist. Your eyes are closed, but you squeeze them tighter. Push the nightmare away. Push him away.

Push away the scream.

His weight. It wants to crush you. Your bones feel fragile under him, as if one wrong move could shatter them, shatter you. You almost hope it happens. One fracture, one rib, that’s all it would take. If it’s the right one and you’re lucky. You wish, but you don’t dare to hope.

Don’t dare to scream.

Your head moves, but you didn’t move it. Your eyes flash open from the shock. His hand on your cheek. His eyes staring straight into yours. Dark. Bottomless. The kind of eyes the pull you in and tear your apart. Your mouth opens in fear and his hand moves, covers your lips. Smothers you. His rough voice in your ear.

“Don’t scream.”

Something Random

Prompt Three: I cheated and didn’t use a prompt on this one. It’s just something that begged to be written.

You stare deep into his eyes. “What about me? Aren’t I important to you?” It’s the answer you’ve been trying to get out of him for months it seems. You want to know. No- you need to know. It’s what keeps you up at night, worrying and fretting.

“Course you are,” he says, his smile as easy as it’s always been.

You never know if he’s faking it or not. You’ve never faked anything, not around him. That’s why it hurts so much when all you want to do is tell the truth.

“I just don’t want to lose the guys,” he continues. “The team, they’re like my family.”

“And I’m not your family?” You ask.

He rolls his eyes and gives you a soft push. “Don’t be ridiculous!” He shakes his head and lays back on his bed, not even looking at you anymore. You know where this is going. You’ve seen the movies and read the books. They always take the same road. “You’re my best friend. And- and more.”

This admission draws your attention. He never says it out loud. He wouldn’t at all if you weren’t alone in his room, no chance of being caught or overheard. “More?” You ask, pushing for something else. You know it’s wrong, but you want him to say it. Make him define it so you don’t have to do it on your own.

He sighs and you know the conversations over. If you push harder then he’ll leave you. They always leave.

“Jay, I’m doing what I can.” He sounds so honest and sincere that you can’t walk out that door. You can’t leave him. He’ll always pull you back in. “This is harder for me. If people knew-” He cuts off. He doesn’t have to keep going. You know what he’s going to say.

If people knew they would shun him. He’d lose his team, the guys. He’d lose his family.

You don’t have anything left to lose except for him.

“I understand.”

“I just need time. After high school, maybe-” He stops again.

After high school. It seems so far away, you’re only juniors after all. You want to tell the world so he can be yours. You want to stop lying and sneaking around. “After high school,” you agree, although you don’t know if you can make it that long. High school seems to last forever.

“I promise this will get better, okay?” He says, sitting up and meeting your gaze. “I promise you.”

A lump rises in your throat. You want nothing more than to say it’s not enough. Walk out the door without looking back. You want something open and real. You don’t like to hide.

Instead you sit on the bed beside him and he puts his arm around your shoulders. “Give it time, Jay. I just need a little more time.”

You nod as he plants a kiss on your lips. You can’t take it further, not when his parents could be home any minute. “I can’t wait forever,” you say, although you both know it’s a lie. You’d wait forever for him if you had to.

The door downstairs slams and he pushes away from you, walking across the room to his desk where he can pretend he’s been doing his homework. You remember that you’re supposed to be tutoring him, it’s your excuse for being in his bedroom.

You pretend it doesn’t hurt when he leaves your side, but it’s harder to lie to yourself.

His mother opens the door to find the two of you seated at his desk exactly where you’re supposed to be. “Kyle, get ready to go to your game. We have to leave in a few minutes.”

He nods. “Sure, Mom.” The math book closes with a snap and in that instant your reason for sticking around longer has disappeared.

She smiles warmly at you. She wouldn’t if she knew what you were doing with her son behind closed doors. “James, it’s always lovely to have you here. Kyle’s grades have gotten so much better since you’ve been tutoring him.”

“Mom,” he groans, annoyed with the attention.

You look at him, waiting for some spark of acknowledgement that you mean something to him, but he only smiles at you in the same easy way he does everyone else. “See ya ‘round, James,” he says and you remember that he only calls you Jay in private. It’s your special name, something more to hide from the world.

“See you,” you repeat, leaving the room. You half expect him to stop you, give you a secret smile, something to remind you that your relationship isn’t all in your head. It’s got to be real.

But there’s nothing and you can hear his conversation with his mother continue. “He is such a nice boy,” she says. “You should have him around more often.”

“He’s just James,” Kyle says and you can feel your heart breaking.

Just James. No matter what he says to you in private, everywhere else you’re just James.