guardiananonymous replied to your post: Greetings, Laura. It has been quite some time since we last spoke. I trust that all has been well as of late?
I am - quite tired. The missions that Director Romanova has had me on for the past two months have been rather tiresome. It is good to hear that you and Kiden are doing well, however.
Oh. Yes. I have not been on a mission in months, but I understand that feeling. Perhaps a nice long rest is in order?
Thank you. It's been troublesome, but much more bearable now that the memories have stopped returning.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
He's read the letter countless times. It's been what, a day now. Yet it still sits there marked as read. Each time he re-reads those letters over and over his throat gets tight and it's difficult to breath.
Each time he feels like a part of him that had hoped for some form of closure for this awful love for Jalen festering deep inside...
Well, he can only describe it as dying.
She was dead.
She was dead.
Only she isn't.
He feels trapped in his skin, like an animal with an itch it can't quite scratch and god that rage feels so damned good. Not even Anon can help him through this and he can't stand it when he lashes out even accidentally because there is so much pushing him towards the edge, keeping him moving, keeping him angry.
The letter is like a knife slowly killing him.
A sleepless night is spent working on his motorcycle as he rips it apart and works until warm crimson coats the metal and he just feels tired, hollow deep inside. Sitting there on the cold ground of the garage Gibson understands Jalen. His head rests against the seat and his hands fall into his lap.
Why am I alive to see her....to see...
Anon finds him there in the morning and even smiling hurts, it's blissfully numb. His head pressed to the crook of the other man's throat breathing him in as he babbles on about god knows what. Gibson thanks him quietly and mentions taking a shower, that he's just tired and stressed about SHIELD, about work. Even the lies don't make him sick, and the smile feels empty as he promises Anon that he'll be fine.
I'm not fine. She's back and he'll never know.
It's another day and he feels better, Anon still watches him worriedly but he won't say anything. He doesn't have the heart. Gibson wakes to his partner holding tightly to him but he doesn't ask what's wrong because his throat is hoarse and it's damp on his face. Night terrors. He hasn't had them since the first week he had returned. In the morning Anon quietly suggests asking for help and for all his stubbornness a part of him know it'll help but he feels betrayed. How? How could Anon want to take him to some User to get him fixed, to repair what was wrong?
Except he's not some program.
Not anymore.
So he snarls, he shouts.
He can't stand that it's him that has hurt Anon again and his eyes widen as he realizes it. Gibson is on his feet before he realizes what is happening. Sick, nauseous, disgusted. So he runs, the door is flung open and he just runs. A voice is far in the distance trying to lure him back but all he hears are the lines of that letter repeating in his head. Hatred wells up, it wars with the love he holds for her in his heart and all of it just is too much.
I can't even look at myself. How can anyone else bear it?
Who am I?
Who am I?
A stumble in his step makes him stop, the pain is numb but he's aware of it and how his feet burn with the countless open wounds. But when he sinks down to the ground and feels the ocean lick at his skin he's never felt so alive. Gasping for breath, eyes closed, head turned towards the sky, Gibson isn't aware of the trail of blood leading to him.
It's almost poetic.
Jalen always loved poetry...
As he opens his eyes he feels the tears come just as his shoulders start to shake. Second best, never amounting to anything, that was Gibson. Stripped bare and left with only the ugly truths.
...just like he always loved her.
Gibson finds a calm, taking shallow breathes to keep himself calm, to fight the anger and the darkness festering away. Yet as he watches the sun touch the edge of the sea he feels a sharp deep pain. It makes his eyes widen, his breath cease, and his body go rigid in that singular moment.
He hears a whisper.
....so sorry....
The tears come hard and fast, rocking him to the core with each broken cry and shout he gives only to the ocean before him. If Gibson could rip out his heart and throw it into those cold unfeeling waves he would. It isn't fair, he wants to cry, but then if he were to give voice to those feelings it would merely damn himself further. So he shouts and he howls at the sea, fingers digging roughly into the sand. The agony swells and builds, fueled by all the hardened anger deep inside.
Screams echo, pain accented in the tremor of his voice. Each breath he rips it out, throwing it away for the dark depths before him to devour. There is a deep aching loss he feels in every single inch of his body. Confusion heightens it, heartache makes it linger.
Why does it hurt? WHY?
Fiery light spills over those waters by the time his voice gives out and the numb feeling returns. Gentle hands find his shoulders and strong arms wrap around him like a quiet shelter. He closes his eyes and leans back into that warmth. What tears does he have left to shed?
Anon is his only saving grace.
Only the ocean will know how he loved Jalen, only those calming waves and rolling waters would whisper it.
He was done.
Ripped clean of that love there was a hole, one he let Anon fill completely as he turned in those arms and tucked his head just under that beautiful jawline. Inhaling that scent he visibly relaxes, fingers twisting into the fabric of the sweater his partner is wearing.
"...I'm sorry..."
Those arms tighten around him and his fingers twist and hold Anon close all the harder. Jalen will find happiness, that is the only comfort he can take in this. But he doesn't understand why he feels so empty, hollow, even as he accepts willingly the fact that while he will love Jalen as a brother it will never be the same.
Anon is the one holding him here at the edge.
Not Jalen.
Never Jalen.
Gibson has never been more sure of how much he loves Anon than now. Even as the ocean licks away at the wounds at his feet and set his senses alight with bittersweet pain. Yet the confusion remains.
It last for countless days, that haunting feeling lurking just a few feet overhead. The letter remains unnoticed by the time six days pass and Gibson finds it easier to smile now. It's so much more genuine in his words when he kisses Anon and whispers in the wake of their lips those three simply words. A rare softness shows in his eyes on the morning of the seventh day when he watches Anon in the early morning with Digit curled in his lap purring softly. Jalen or the Grid never crosses his mind the whole day as he works side by side with Anon.
It's the eighth day when he finally laughs again.
He doesn't look at the letter again until later that night. A wistful smile plays at his lips and he writes back a short brief response. Once he hits send, he deletes the letter and closes his computer. No more time to linger in the past and he understands now what Jalen had been trying to get him to do.
His fingertips linger across the smooth surface of the laptop.
But Anon is laughing from their bedroom and he looks through the hallway at him, a warm smile soon showing on his features. This is home, he realizes. It's not a place or even the people, it's the warmth he feels as Anon looks at him while holding an indignant Digit who wears a vibrant bow around his neck. It's the mornings he wakes up and turns to find Anon's lips with his own only to earn a grumble and soft chuckle in return.
It's been here all along but he's been so blind.
Love.
Gibson looks back at his laptop, and it's not sadness he feels or anger. It's quiet acceptance that slowly, he's moved on. Closing his eyes he gives a nod telling Anon he'll join him soon and watches his partner set Digit down and vanish from sight chasing the small creature.
A laugh leaves him, soft, real.
I'm home.
Fingertips leave the cold unfeeling surface of his laptop and he turns, walking towards his partner and making a joke as he goes. The study door he slowly closes behind himself and with one parting glance back into the darkness he smiles and closes it completely with a soft click.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
guardiananonymous replied to your post: Take a breath; Leap.
OOC: But the question is, if Jalen did, would Gibson choose him over Anon?
[[ Honestly I think he'd choose *censored for spoilers* ...so I guess in the end we'll see how it all turns out. Too early in the game to say either way. ]]
