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Title: INK
Aug. 13th, 2012 11:52 amCHAPTER 20: And it doesn't hurt.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash / Hanson / Hancest / Zaylor / Drama
Warnings: Language, Drug use, Slash, Sex
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks: to heart_iswild
http://heart-iswild.livejournal.com
Notes: Hanson ain't famous in this Story, but Taylor is in a band called Aphrodite. Don't wonder about Taylor's tattoo ;-)
Alright folks here it is. It's the final chapter of Ink, and I hope you all (whoever ends up reading) feel satisfied with the ending. Thank you to EVERYONE who has read this.Thank you to everybody who has commented- you're the reason I posted the story.
At the beginning of this story, I explained my life. The basics, not the ins-and-outs. I told you that I was 16, normal, had normal interests and lived a relatively normal life. My name is Zac Hanson and I don’t even feel like I can call myself that anymore, because who I was is no longer who I am. I asked you all to reserve judgment, but now, you can make your assessments about that person.
I’m 19 now. An unimpressive high school graduate. No honors, no scholarships for college. Just a normal graduate, like my older brother Taylor. But nobody thought of him when I walked through the gym with that meaningless diploma in my hand. My family was there- 12 of them- and they clapped and waved and whistled and the ones in wheelchairs applauded quietly, because they didn’t have the strength to keep up with the rest. My Basketball team- that’s right, the one I’d abandoned two years before- sat silent as the principle called my name, and even Layla, who no longer wanted my company when we walked home on Fridays anymore, kept her eyes down. I wasn’t the same person they’d grown up with and I knew that, but I couldn’t change who I’d become.
Dramatic. I know, right? I was fucking lame. My personality had disappeared with the scent of Taylor’s hair, and I no longer cared about anything. I was on good terms with the remainder of my family, even Isaac. But they didn’t matter anymore. Nothing and nobody did except for the man who I’d walked out on for no reason other than jealous insecurity years ago.
He’d left messages, of course. Hundreds of them. I never returned a call, never considered anything other than the fact that he had wounded me and embarrassed me, made me feel weak for the first time in my life. I resented him. I resented Eli, the fucking bastard who made me doubt my Baby's love for me. By the time I realized that I was just a selfish idiot, somebody who was too blind to see the only person that gave me a reason to breathe everyday….it was too late. It was a year later, and I was sure that Taylor had moved on. Even though I didn’t think he ever really loved Eli, at least not the way that I had manipulated him into loving me, I just didn’t feel right intruding on whatever life he had created for himself in the year we’d been apart.
My parents asked me where he’d been, where he lived now, why he never came to visit. Even Isaac was curious. He’s not the same person anymore either- he’s in jail now. Three years for attempted rape and battery.
He’d gotten pissed when he’d found out that his girlfriend actually was a prostitute.
He’s quieter now. Still vulgar, still bitter and angry, but jail has softened him a bit. Guess he doesn’t want to be in there any longer than he has to. He hopes he’ll get out due to overcrowding or on good behavior. I don’t really care if he stays there forever.
I’ve got a job now. I’m the manager of Citizen’s Bank across from Wal-Mart. Youngest manager they’ve ever had, in fact. Apparently I’m really fucking good at bossing people around. As manager, I don’t really have to deal with numbers. I just stand around and direct my minions, correct them, show them how to treat customers. But my purpose there isn’t to make sure the bank is running smoothly. I don’t give a fuck about the bank. It’s just that we’re the only bank in town, and I always hope that Taylor will come in to withdraw some money or something. But his account hasn’t been touched in years, and I have a feeling that he doesn’t even live here anymore.
The last visit we had, before I had so prudently shoved him into a wall and screamed that I hoped he burned in hell, he had told me that he hoped to work at the local grocery store. The mom and pop one, not the Super Stop and Shop or whatever the fuck. I went in there a few weeks ago for the first time to see if I could find him, to see if he had lived out his effervescent fantasy of working as a cashier, but he wasn’t there.
Well, he wasn’t working that day.
How mediocre. I had always wished that Taylor would’ve done something more noteworthy with his life. Something that would give him the attention he deserved. He’d be 21 now- old enough to be graduating from college, which he had apparently not done if he was still working at the grocer’s.
Something had caught my attention on the way out of the store, however. You know how they have those bulletin boards at supermarkets? Where people can post flyers, or list their numbers if they want to babysit people’s dogs? There was a flyer that looked pretty new up there, and it had a picture of a drumhead with a girl on it. The girl had long black hair and was wearing a Grecian gown, and under the picture was the word Aphrodite. Apparently they were having a concert two weeks from then at the Underdog- one of the dive bars right outside of Tulsa.
And now I’m preparing to go. I haven’t seen Taylor in such a long time- maybe he’s not even the keyboarder anymore? Maybe it will be a total waste of time. Maybe he’ll be there and refuse to look at me or talk to me, because I know that I deserve it. I certainly don’t deserve him.
I brush my hair away from my face and lick my lips. My reflection isn’t what it used to be- my hair is short now, and darker. I wonder if Taylor will recognize me. I wonder if he’ll look the same as he did three years ago. I know he’ll be just as beautiful, if not more.
I don’t want to look overdressed or like a tried too hard, even though I most definitely am trying hard, so I put on his old Eagles shirt and a pair of jeans with some Chucks in an effort to look….effortless.
The car ride there seems long. It shouldn’t, because the bar is only about 25 minutes away, but it feels like a lifetime. Why am I doing this now? Why is now a good time to step back into his life, perhaps at a juncture when he doesn’t need me? He used to need me, back when he was weak and powerless. But hopefully he’s not that person anymore either. Hopefully now, he’s self confident an….and happy.
When I park, I leave my hands on the steering wheel. My palms are sweaty- a disgusting feature of a disgusting person. I hate my hands. I hate my palms. I hate my sweat. I hate that my heart is pounding so hard in my chest right now that I just might turn back around and pretend I never drove my ass out here to see somebody who surely hates me.
But I love him too much and I’ve been without him for too long. I miss him, and life without him seems pointless, as cliché and retarded as that may sound. I know, and I’ve known since I was 16, that he is the only person worth sharing this seemingly endless series of events with. With him, I wouldn’t care about the series of events. With him, it wouldn’t be a series. It would be one straight line of perfect…whatever that means. No start, middle, or end.
So before I can convince myself otherwise, I take my pride in both hands and open the door of my car, then pay a stupid mother fucking cover charge and walk my ass into the Underdog.
There are a lot of people there. Some I recognize from high school, since this place doesn’t I.D., but I don’t bother to say hello to them and they barely give me a second glance. If Layla was there, I would talk to her, but she’s not.
Aphrodite’s stuff is set up on the stage. Everything is pretty dark and I’m there about fifteen minutes early, but apparently I’m right on time for sound check.
And I almost fucking throw up when I see my brother on the side of the stage, watching as Eli walks out to tune his guitar. His arms are folded over his chest and he looks exactly the same, albeit a few minor changes. His hair is longer and a little darker now, and if I’m not mistaking, I can actually see some facial hair. But he looks gorgeous as ever and his stupid tribal tattoo isn’t even bothering me like it used to. He looks perfect.
I promised him…years ago, that I would see him play. I pink swore, kissed him, gave him my word that I would see the concert that he was playing in 2 weeks. But I never fucking went and I know I'm an asshole for it. So now I’m here, three years too late, and I hope he’ll accept my apology once his set is over and I can start groveling.
They take the stage 20 minutes later, but I hardly notice the music. I feel like time has stopped for me and for Taylor, though he hasn’t seen me yet. Eli is singing lead for the first half hour and all I can do is watch my brother play the keys and sing backup. He looks perfect as he plays and sounds even more wonderful. And when the band leaves the stage and Taylor takes the lone seat in the middle with an acoustic guitar, I feel like I might just keel over and die.
He opens his mouth to sing and I pray that his eyes drift to mine in the third row. Only a few people are listening to him anyway, but to me, he’s the only person in the room.
Instead, he closes his eyes and begins to torture me.
To see you when I wake up
Is a gift I didn't think could be real.
To know that you feel the same as I do
Is a three-fold, Utopian dream.
You do something to me that I can't explain.
So would I be out of line if I said "I miss you"?
I see your picture.
I smell your skin on
The empty pillow next to mine.
You have only been gone ten days,
But already I'm wasting away.
I know I'll see you again
Whether far or soon.
But I need you to know that I care,
And I miss you.
It’s short, but quiet and beautiful.
And I need him to know that I care, and that I miss him too. Even though I was the worst brother, boyfriend, friend, person in the world to him. Even though I treated him like shit, disrespected him in every way.
But I need him to know, even if he doesn’t want me anymore, that I love him. And that I need him the way he used to need me.
I feel tears prickle my eyes and I wipe them away as everybody starts to clap. He doesn’t see me; he just looks down at his lap and smiles coyly for a moment before thanking the crowd and exiting the stage. Our eyes don’t lock like I hoped they would, but I feel a tap on the shoulder and I turn around quickly, hoping that it’s him.
But it’s Eli.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks curiously. I’m surprised that he recognizes me- I look different now, but he doesn’t.
“I.” Good answer, Zac. Keep killin’ it. “I.”
“You.”
“I saw you guys were playing. I wanted to see Taylor.”
Eli surveys me for a moment. “You don’t deserve to see him, you know,” he says in a way that makes me take a step back. He sounds so protective, but not in a possessive way. In a brotherly way that catches me off guard. Last I knew, they were fucking each other, or getting to that point.
“I know.”
“He’s different now.”
“I hoped so.”
“He doesn’t need you anymore.”
I hang my head, my eyes shifting towards the ground shamefully. “I figured.”
“Well then you should probably just-“
“Hey!” Taylor says to Eli, and my eyes widen as I look up. His hand is on Eli’s shoulder. “I was looking for you! Red and Liam said they need help with…..”
And our eyes lock and his words drift away into nothingness. They weren’t important anyway. Only this is important now, and whatever happens after this.
Eli is the barrier between us. He doesn’t want to move and I can tell that he wants to put his arm around Taylor’s neck and lead him away from the big bad wolf, and for a moment, I think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But he doesn’t. “I’ll leave you two alone,” is all he says, and then he leaves. And then I’m standing face to face with Little Red Riding Hood.
“Hi…” I say with a slow, stupid smile on my face. He doesn’t answer and my smile falters immediately. “Look, I just wanted to-“
“Why are you here?” he asks coldly. Those icy eyes are just as piercing as I remember, even in the dim light of this dump. But instead of being turned on by them, I was crumbled by them.
“I…missed you.” Another great answer. Ding ding ding! “I wanted. Um…well, needed to come see you.”
His face softens a little bit and I can see a hint of concern. “Is everything okay?” There’s the Taylor that I know. Willing to put his hatred aside to make sure everything’s okay.
“Yeah. I.” I look around us quickly. Eli is watching from afar and it’s making me even more nervous. I can feel sweat beading on my face and chest and I don’t want it to be like this. Our reunion, that is. “Can we talk somewhere else?”
He frowned a little bit. He’s cautious and I don’t blame him. He should be, after all the times I walked out on him, hurt him, made him feel like shit.
“Yeah.” And somehow I’m surprised and unsurprised at the same time. A normal person would’ve said no immediately, probably punched me straight in the nuts. But Taylor, apparently still, is a chance-giver. So I follow him outside, behind the bar, to a peeling green bench. There’s dried bird shit on one side but I sit in it so Taylor doesn’t have to.
“So…what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“I miss you,” I say immediately. He looks down at his knees, a frown on his face, and my instinctive reaction is to move closer to him and take his hands. He looks up at me when I do that and he furrows his eyebrows, pulling his hands away from me quickly. “I’m sorry,” I tell him desperately. “I’m so sorry, Tay. Everything…everything is my fault. You are everything and I am an idiot for leaving you.”
He stares at me as I pathetically spit my soul out to him, and it’s killing me that I can’t read his expression. I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he’s going to say, if anything.
“Why did you cut your hair?” he asks, and I raise my eyebrows. Uhh…
“I just. Wanted a change.”
He looks at me suspiciously and moves his hand towards my face. At first, I think he’s going to hit me. But then he curls his fingers into the top of my hair and tugs it lightly.
“I like it,” he tells me, dropping his hand. My eyes fill with tears and I don’t know what to do. He smiles softly as he watches them spill onto my cheeks, and again surprises me as he uses his thumb to wipe them away. “I’ve missed you too.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I always wished you would come back, but I figured out after a few months that you wouldn’t.”
I felt so ashamed. Taylor didn’t deserve that treatment. He was an incredible, giving, gorgeous, caring person who deserved somebody to get on their knees for him at any point in time. Not walk away over stupid petty selfishness and leave him heartbroken.
“Look,” I start, closing my eyes and holding his hand to my cheek. It feels unreal to be touching him right now, to have his skin on mine. “I know I don’t deserve anymore chances. Lord knows you’ve given me too many as it is.” I open my eyes and he’s not smiling anymore- but listening intently. “I’m not expecting you to just let me back in, or even talk to me at all. But I needed you to know that I love you more than anything in the world, and I’ve changed. I need you and I don’t care what I have to do to get you back, because if you let me….it’ll be forever.”
And now we both have tears in our eyes. I can’t believe this shit really. I thought it would be different than this- I thought there would be more obstacles. But he looks ready to forgive me and I’m hoping that I’m reading him correctly, because if I’m not, I’m going to fucking kill myself.
He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and that’s all it takes. He’s forgiven me. He’s giving me another chance. And this time, I’m not going to fuck it up.
The way his mouth feels is something that I can’t describe in words. When I was younger, I could call it hot. Sexual. Erotic. Perfect. But now, I can’t really think of an adjective to illustrate the sensations he’s giving me. He’s just Taylor, and that’s all anybody really needs to know. It’s like he was made for me, or I was made for him. It doesn’t matter either way.
His fingers are in my hair now and my hands are on his waist, and our tears are mixing together in a wet, salty sea of relief. The kiss is passionate, breathless- making up for lost time I think. But then it breaks and he’s staring at me with those tearful eyes that make me want to curl into a ball and die.
“You need to promise me that this is the last time we have to do this,” Taylor says, his voice shaky. “Not kiss. I mean the last time you leave me. No more chances.”
“I only need this last one.”
He smiles softly and wraps his arms around my neck, pressing his upper body tightly against mine. I can feel his breath on my ear and goose bumps rise on my arms. “Then you’ve got it,” he whispers.
And as I hold him in my arms, I realize why he’s gotten all of those tattoos. He wanted something that could mark him from the outside so that people could see who he was, even when they didn’t want to talk to him. They could see the pain he felt in his face, and imagine what it would be like to feel those needles in their own skin. But our love has marked him far deeper than any ink could penetrate. He’s mine forever now, and it’s written in love, all over his body.
And it doesn’t hurt.
Thanks for reading <333333333
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash / Hanson / Hancest / Zaylor / Drama
Warnings: Language, Drug use, Slash, Sex
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks: to heart_iswild
http://heart-iswild.livejournal.com
Notes: Hanson ain't famous in this Story, but Taylor is in a band called Aphrodite. Don't wonder about Taylor's tattoo ;-)
Alright folks here it is. It's the final chapter of Ink, and I hope you all (whoever ends up reading) feel satisfied with the ending. Thank you to EVERYONE who has read this.Thank you to everybody who has commented- you're the reason I posted the story.
At the beginning of this story, I explained my life. The basics, not the ins-and-outs. I told you that I was 16, normal, had normal interests and lived a relatively normal life. My name is Zac Hanson and I don’t even feel like I can call myself that anymore, because who I was is no longer who I am. I asked you all to reserve judgment, but now, you can make your assessments about that person.
I’m 19 now. An unimpressive high school graduate. No honors, no scholarships for college. Just a normal graduate, like my older brother Taylor. But nobody thought of him when I walked through the gym with that meaningless diploma in my hand. My family was there- 12 of them- and they clapped and waved and whistled and the ones in wheelchairs applauded quietly, because they didn’t have the strength to keep up with the rest. My Basketball team- that’s right, the one I’d abandoned two years before- sat silent as the principle called my name, and even Layla, who no longer wanted my company when we walked home on Fridays anymore, kept her eyes down. I wasn’t the same person they’d grown up with and I knew that, but I couldn’t change who I’d become.
Dramatic. I know, right? I was fucking lame. My personality had disappeared with the scent of Taylor’s hair, and I no longer cared about anything. I was on good terms with the remainder of my family, even Isaac. But they didn’t matter anymore. Nothing and nobody did except for the man who I’d walked out on for no reason other than jealous insecurity years ago.
He’d left messages, of course. Hundreds of them. I never returned a call, never considered anything other than the fact that he had wounded me and embarrassed me, made me feel weak for the first time in my life. I resented him. I resented Eli, the fucking bastard who made me doubt my Baby's love for me. By the time I realized that I was just a selfish idiot, somebody who was too blind to see the only person that gave me a reason to breathe everyday….it was too late. It was a year later, and I was sure that Taylor had moved on. Even though I didn’t think he ever really loved Eli, at least not the way that I had manipulated him into loving me, I just didn’t feel right intruding on whatever life he had created for himself in the year we’d been apart.
My parents asked me where he’d been, where he lived now, why he never came to visit. Even Isaac was curious. He’s not the same person anymore either- he’s in jail now. Three years for attempted rape and battery.
He’d gotten pissed when he’d found out that his girlfriend actually was a prostitute.
He’s quieter now. Still vulgar, still bitter and angry, but jail has softened him a bit. Guess he doesn’t want to be in there any longer than he has to. He hopes he’ll get out due to overcrowding or on good behavior. I don’t really care if he stays there forever.
I’ve got a job now. I’m the manager of Citizen’s Bank across from Wal-Mart. Youngest manager they’ve ever had, in fact. Apparently I’m really fucking good at bossing people around. As manager, I don’t really have to deal with numbers. I just stand around and direct my minions, correct them, show them how to treat customers. But my purpose there isn’t to make sure the bank is running smoothly. I don’t give a fuck about the bank. It’s just that we’re the only bank in town, and I always hope that Taylor will come in to withdraw some money or something. But his account hasn’t been touched in years, and I have a feeling that he doesn’t even live here anymore.
The last visit we had, before I had so prudently shoved him into a wall and screamed that I hoped he burned in hell, he had told me that he hoped to work at the local grocery store. The mom and pop one, not the Super Stop and Shop or whatever the fuck. I went in there a few weeks ago for the first time to see if I could find him, to see if he had lived out his effervescent fantasy of working as a cashier, but he wasn’t there.
Well, he wasn’t working that day.
How mediocre. I had always wished that Taylor would’ve done something more noteworthy with his life. Something that would give him the attention he deserved. He’d be 21 now- old enough to be graduating from college, which he had apparently not done if he was still working at the grocer’s.
Something had caught my attention on the way out of the store, however. You know how they have those bulletin boards at supermarkets? Where people can post flyers, or list their numbers if they want to babysit people’s dogs? There was a flyer that looked pretty new up there, and it had a picture of a drumhead with a girl on it. The girl had long black hair and was wearing a Grecian gown, and under the picture was the word Aphrodite. Apparently they were having a concert two weeks from then at the Underdog- one of the dive bars right outside of Tulsa.
And now I’m preparing to go. I haven’t seen Taylor in such a long time- maybe he’s not even the keyboarder anymore? Maybe it will be a total waste of time. Maybe he’ll be there and refuse to look at me or talk to me, because I know that I deserve it. I certainly don’t deserve him.
I brush my hair away from my face and lick my lips. My reflection isn’t what it used to be- my hair is short now, and darker. I wonder if Taylor will recognize me. I wonder if he’ll look the same as he did three years ago. I know he’ll be just as beautiful, if not more.
I don’t want to look overdressed or like a tried too hard, even though I most definitely am trying hard, so I put on his old Eagles shirt and a pair of jeans with some Chucks in an effort to look….effortless.
The car ride there seems long. It shouldn’t, because the bar is only about 25 minutes away, but it feels like a lifetime. Why am I doing this now? Why is now a good time to step back into his life, perhaps at a juncture when he doesn’t need me? He used to need me, back when he was weak and powerless. But hopefully he’s not that person anymore either. Hopefully now, he’s self confident an….and happy.
When I park, I leave my hands on the steering wheel. My palms are sweaty- a disgusting feature of a disgusting person. I hate my hands. I hate my palms. I hate my sweat. I hate that my heart is pounding so hard in my chest right now that I just might turn back around and pretend I never drove my ass out here to see somebody who surely hates me.
But I love him too much and I’ve been without him for too long. I miss him, and life without him seems pointless, as cliché and retarded as that may sound. I know, and I’ve known since I was 16, that he is the only person worth sharing this seemingly endless series of events with. With him, I wouldn’t care about the series of events. With him, it wouldn’t be a series. It would be one straight line of perfect…whatever that means. No start, middle, or end.
So before I can convince myself otherwise, I take my pride in both hands and open the door of my car, then pay a stupid mother fucking cover charge and walk my ass into the Underdog.
There are a lot of people there. Some I recognize from high school, since this place doesn’t I.D., but I don’t bother to say hello to them and they barely give me a second glance. If Layla was there, I would talk to her, but she’s not.
Aphrodite’s stuff is set up on the stage. Everything is pretty dark and I’m there about fifteen minutes early, but apparently I’m right on time for sound check.
And I almost fucking throw up when I see my brother on the side of the stage, watching as Eli walks out to tune his guitar. His arms are folded over his chest and he looks exactly the same, albeit a few minor changes. His hair is longer and a little darker now, and if I’m not mistaking, I can actually see some facial hair. But he looks gorgeous as ever and his stupid tribal tattoo isn’t even bothering me like it used to. He looks perfect.
I promised him…years ago, that I would see him play. I pink swore, kissed him, gave him my word that I would see the concert that he was playing in 2 weeks. But I never fucking went and I know I'm an asshole for it. So now I’m here, three years too late, and I hope he’ll accept my apology once his set is over and I can start groveling.
They take the stage 20 minutes later, but I hardly notice the music. I feel like time has stopped for me and for Taylor, though he hasn’t seen me yet. Eli is singing lead for the first half hour and all I can do is watch my brother play the keys and sing backup. He looks perfect as he plays and sounds even more wonderful. And when the band leaves the stage and Taylor takes the lone seat in the middle with an acoustic guitar, I feel like I might just keel over and die.
He opens his mouth to sing and I pray that his eyes drift to mine in the third row. Only a few people are listening to him anyway, but to me, he’s the only person in the room.
Instead, he closes his eyes and begins to torture me.
To see you when I wake up
Is a gift I didn't think could be real.
To know that you feel the same as I do
Is a three-fold, Utopian dream.
You do something to me that I can't explain.
So would I be out of line if I said "I miss you"?
I see your picture.
I smell your skin on
The empty pillow next to mine.
You have only been gone ten days,
But already I'm wasting away.
I know I'll see you again
Whether far or soon.
But I need you to know that I care,
And I miss you.
It’s short, but quiet and beautiful.
And I need him to know that I care, and that I miss him too. Even though I was the worst brother, boyfriend, friend, person in the world to him. Even though I treated him like shit, disrespected him in every way.
But I need him to know, even if he doesn’t want me anymore, that I love him. And that I need him the way he used to need me.
I feel tears prickle my eyes and I wipe them away as everybody starts to clap. He doesn’t see me; he just looks down at his lap and smiles coyly for a moment before thanking the crowd and exiting the stage. Our eyes don’t lock like I hoped they would, but I feel a tap on the shoulder and I turn around quickly, hoping that it’s him.
But it’s Eli.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks curiously. I’m surprised that he recognizes me- I look different now, but he doesn’t.
“I.” Good answer, Zac. Keep killin’ it. “I.”
“You.”
“I saw you guys were playing. I wanted to see Taylor.”
Eli surveys me for a moment. “You don’t deserve to see him, you know,” he says in a way that makes me take a step back. He sounds so protective, but not in a possessive way. In a brotherly way that catches me off guard. Last I knew, they were fucking each other, or getting to that point.
“I know.”
“He’s different now.”
“I hoped so.”
“He doesn’t need you anymore.”
I hang my head, my eyes shifting towards the ground shamefully. “I figured.”
“Well then you should probably just-“
“Hey!” Taylor says to Eli, and my eyes widen as I look up. His hand is on Eli’s shoulder. “I was looking for you! Red and Liam said they need help with…..”
And our eyes lock and his words drift away into nothingness. They weren’t important anyway. Only this is important now, and whatever happens after this.
Eli is the barrier between us. He doesn’t want to move and I can tell that he wants to put his arm around Taylor’s neck and lead him away from the big bad wolf, and for a moment, I think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But he doesn’t. “I’ll leave you two alone,” is all he says, and then he leaves. And then I’m standing face to face with Little Red Riding Hood.
“Hi…” I say with a slow, stupid smile on my face. He doesn’t answer and my smile falters immediately. “Look, I just wanted to-“
“Why are you here?” he asks coldly. Those icy eyes are just as piercing as I remember, even in the dim light of this dump. But instead of being turned on by them, I was crumbled by them.
“I…missed you.” Another great answer. Ding ding ding! “I wanted. Um…well, needed to come see you.”
His face softens a little bit and I can see a hint of concern. “Is everything okay?” There’s the Taylor that I know. Willing to put his hatred aside to make sure everything’s okay.
“Yeah. I.” I look around us quickly. Eli is watching from afar and it’s making me even more nervous. I can feel sweat beading on my face and chest and I don’t want it to be like this. Our reunion, that is. “Can we talk somewhere else?”
He frowned a little bit. He’s cautious and I don’t blame him. He should be, after all the times I walked out on him, hurt him, made him feel like shit.
“Yeah.” And somehow I’m surprised and unsurprised at the same time. A normal person would’ve said no immediately, probably punched me straight in the nuts. But Taylor, apparently still, is a chance-giver. So I follow him outside, behind the bar, to a peeling green bench. There’s dried bird shit on one side but I sit in it so Taylor doesn’t have to.
“So…what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“I miss you,” I say immediately. He looks down at his knees, a frown on his face, and my instinctive reaction is to move closer to him and take his hands. He looks up at me when I do that and he furrows his eyebrows, pulling his hands away from me quickly. “I’m sorry,” I tell him desperately. “I’m so sorry, Tay. Everything…everything is my fault. You are everything and I am an idiot for leaving you.”
He stares at me as I pathetically spit my soul out to him, and it’s killing me that I can’t read his expression. I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he’s going to say, if anything.
“Why did you cut your hair?” he asks, and I raise my eyebrows. Uhh…
“I just. Wanted a change.”
He looks at me suspiciously and moves his hand towards my face. At first, I think he’s going to hit me. But then he curls his fingers into the top of my hair and tugs it lightly.
“I like it,” he tells me, dropping his hand. My eyes fill with tears and I don’t know what to do. He smiles softly as he watches them spill onto my cheeks, and again surprises me as he uses his thumb to wipe them away. “I’ve missed you too.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I always wished you would come back, but I figured out after a few months that you wouldn’t.”
I felt so ashamed. Taylor didn’t deserve that treatment. He was an incredible, giving, gorgeous, caring person who deserved somebody to get on their knees for him at any point in time. Not walk away over stupid petty selfishness and leave him heartbroken.
“Look,” I start, closing my eyes and holding his hand to my cheek. It feels unreal to be touching him right now, to have his skin on mine. “I know I don’t deserve anymore chances. Lord knows you’ve given me too many as it is.” I open my eyes and he’s not smiling anymore- but listening intently. “I’m not expecting you to just let me back in, or even talk to me at all. But I needed you to know that I love you more than anything in the world, and I’ve changed. I need you and I don’t care what I have to do to get you back, because if you let me….it’ll be forever.”
And now we both have tears in our eyes. I can’t believe this shit really. I thought it would be different than this- I thought there would be more obstacles. But he looks ready to forgive me and I’m hoping that I’m reading him correctly, because if I’m not, I’m going to fucking kill myself.
He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and that’s all it takes. He’s forgiven me. He’s giving me another chance. And this time, I’m not going to fuck it up.
The way his mouth feels is something that I can’t describe in words. When I was younger, I could call it hot. Sexual. Erotic. Perfect. But now, I can’t really think of an adjective to illustrate the sensations he’s giving me. He’s just Taylor, and that’s all anybody really needs to know. It’s like he was made for me, or I was made for him. It doesn’t matter either way.
His fingers are in my hair now and my hands are on his waist, and our tears are mixing together in a wet, salty sea of relief. The kiss is passionate, breathless- making up for lost time I think. But then it breaks and he’s staring at me with those tearful eyes that make me want to curl into a ball and die.
“You need to promise me that this is the last time we have to do this,” Taylor says, his voice shaky. “Not kiss. I mean the last time you leave me. No more chances.”
“I only need this last one.”
He smiles softly and wraps his arms around my neck, pressing his upper body tightly against mine. I can feel his breath on my ear and goose bumps rise on my arms. “Then you’ve got it,” he whispers.
And as I hold him in my arms, I realize why he’s gotten all of those tattoos. He wanted something that could mark him from the outside so that people could see who he was, even when they didn’t want to talk to him. They could see the pain he felt in his face, and imagine what it would be like to feel those needles in their own skin. But our love has marked him far deeper than any ink could penetrate. He’s mine forever now, and it’s written in love, all over his body.
And it doesn’t hurt.
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