#mayansfic

x

She jogged from the trailer toward the club house where she could see Ez’s back facing her from the porch. The club house was somewhat normal after the massacre from 4 months ago. She had just got back in town lastnight, she was away for work from 2 weeks before the attack. Ez begged her to stay away just a while for her safety after she tried boarding a plane immediately. 

The thought she would have never seen him again made her heart ache and she shivered at the thought of all the lives lost like it was nothing. She thanked God again that the boys were fine, Ez was fine. 

She pulled out her headphones and fixed her short work out shorts as she stepped up the steps. She started to speak not reazling Ez was talking to someone, someone she couldn’t see from across the yard.

“Hey baby you ready?” She asked sweetly wrapping her arms around him toward his stomach, her hands not being able to close around his thick abdomen as her chin sat on him.

“Si mi-“

She gasped as she felt familiar rough hands grab hers as she blindly stared at Ez’s back. She felt Ez shove the body infront of him and a little huff.

“Don’t touch my girl-“ 

“Hey mama” Rio’s sweet as honey voice cut Ez off. 

Ez noticed the tension from behind him, her body completely still. They both heard her sharp intake of breath. Her hands slowly dropped from Ez’s waist, her body pulling back slighting.  

Rio’s head popped over Ez’s right shoulder, his deep eyes trained on her with his signature smirk. YN’s blood went cold. Ez arched an eyebrow as he shuffled YN down two steps to the dirt as he kept his body in front of her. Both of their eyes trained on Rio with different expressions.

Ez’s confusion, YN’s shock.

“Rio?” She said hardly above a whisper. 

The lean man took two smooth steps down causing Ez’s bulky frame to step up one.

“How you end up in Santo Padre mama?”

“Listen-“

“Nah you listen Ez Reyes, stay out of it” Rio casually said before lacing his next words with a bite. “I asked my wife a question”. 

“Wife?”

x

x

There was always an elephant in the room and it was colossal, yet there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was dance around the fact that I was deeply in love with a man that did not feel the same. 

I often watched him, mainly from the corner of my eye, always longing to be his; owned by him, body and soul. 

He stood before me now, distress clearly evident on his face. Both hands clasped on either side of the door frame, eyes signalling that he wanted to come in. To relieve himself of whatever it was that was eating him up inside. 

Angel always came to me like this. I was the one he could come to for relief – release. Perhaps I allowed this to go on for too long. Letting him arrive with all those insecurities, those fears, and let him dump them at my doorstep. But I knew, as well as he did that, I would never stop him. 

My heart was close to bursting at the seams with the amount of love I carried for this man. I want to continue to take this, and accept it as enough. I was desperate to. Yet I don’t think I could last realistically, for much longer. 

“Angel.” I answered the door, voice breathless. My confidence waned, resolve breaking as I glimpsed his crumpled face looking at the ground, eyes refusing to meet mine. 

Angel was selfish. He knew this, and he hated that about himself. Hated that he found himself at my doorstep every night, seeking solace the only way he knew how. 

“Can I come inside?”

All it took was a brief nod and he was in, a faint smell of gasoline, mixed with a faint musk that I knew was my favourite aftershave of his. After shutting the door, I turned to face him, finding his gaze still avoiding mine. 

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?” I offered, already knowing the answer. 

“No. Thanks. I just came here to… to talk.”

Talk? That was a surprise. It seemed these past couple months, to me, Angel didn’t know what that was. I couldn’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. Talk! Angel Reyes wanted to talk.

“Okay,” I sighed, arms crossing my chest, “go ahead.”

His gaze finally met mine, widening slightly as they took in my appearance. I was partially clothed. My panties were on, covered by a large oversized hoodie – his hoodie, that ended just above my knees. 

“I-I’m not good with this shit but I-I just wanted you to know that I see it.” An unfamiliar feeling coursed through my body. I couldn’t tell where this was going. See it? See what?  

“I see what I do to you. What this,” he gestured between the two of us, “does to you.”

“I come over, every night without fail and you let me inside, to your home – your body. But I can’t do this. I can’t hurt you like this anymore. I see it querida, I see your face when I leave. I want you, so fucking much – always but not like this.”

Confusion, shock, and frustration were some of the feelings that bubbled inside. I couldn’t understand where this was coming from. I agreed with everything he said, but I couldn’t quite help but let the anger rise. I was Angry that he was the one making this decision. That he thought he was doing it for me, when it was obvious that what I felt - how I felt, was not what this was about. 

“Angel, where is this coming from?” I couldn’t help but keep the exasperated tone out of my voice. This man was infuriating.

“Me. I have eyes; I can see you. You’re fucking miserable and it’s all because of me.”

Shaking my head, I had to bite back a laugh. What a sick and twisted joke this was. Here the love of my life stands before me, ripping me in two. When not too long ago I was considering doing the same thing. Ending us, albeit begrudgingly.

All the while he is thinking that he’s helping. Giving me whatever it is he thinks I desire. At least, that’s what he’s deluded himself into thinking. 

“Angel,” I started, frustration close to boiling point, “maybe instead of assuming, maybe having a conversation would have been productive. Work out what I am feeling. Actually asking me! Instead, you just decided you knew.” I threw my head back groaning, gripping the roots of my hair. I was seething with the audacity of this man. The man I am so desperately in love with. 

“Angel,” I started again, voice cracking as I tried my hardest not to cry. I could not cry, “I am so fucking in love with you it hurts. That’s what you see when you leave every night. You see shame. Shame of what I feel because I know you don’t feel the same. I want you just as badly, but our wants are two different things. You want my body. I want your body and soul.”

I couldn’t say any more. I had to stop. It pained me too much to continue. But I had to. I had to let it pour out.

“I just wish that maybe we could have had some kind of conversation. But you always jump onto something, whether it be a thing or a thought and you don’t think to consider anything else. If you thought you were hurting me, why did you continue? Why did you keep coming by if you knew what this was doing to me? Why not speak to me earlier?

He was so self-destructive, and I tried to lessen the hurt but I had had enough. He needed to know what his actions, and words does to people and that there are consequences.

I could tell I had shattered him; I could see it with his shaky intake of breath. The words stung. His hands were in his front jean pockets, his face impassive as he stared at me. Though he wasn’t really looking at me; his mind was at work here. I tried to reach out to him, take his hand in mine. I wanted to plead to him, and beg him to stay and to tell him I loved him. That he should forget what he said – what I said. But as soon as I reached out, he took a step to the side, knocking into the coffee table. 

“Uh you know what,” he responded, all emotion devoid from his voice, “this was obviously a mistake. I have to go.”

“Angel wait, come on, we have to talk about this.” You can’t just say this shit and leave, I wanted to scream. 

“Angel, please.”

But he ignored my pleas.

_________________________________________________________

Hand gripping the throttle, Angel continued to accelerate the bike, faster and faster until everything around him began to blur. He didn’t know where he was going. Normally when he got like this, all worked up, there would be only one place he’d find himself.

His head was swamped with malicious, confusing and tempting thoughts. The thought that scared him the most was the one telling him that he felt that same. The ones that brought up her confession and replayed it over and over again. 

Love wasn’t a remedy Angel knew well. It was something he always tried to separate himself from. Something he didn’t allow himself self to experience or deserve. But she elicited these intense feelings from him that felt so strange – foreign. 

It was too much; too intense. 

Pulling off to the side of the road the dirt swirled around him in a haze, only after turning the engine off and sitting there for a few moments did the dust begin to settle.

In a fit of blind rage Angel unclipped his helmet and threw it across from him. A loud crack then begun reverberating around the empty space. His face was flushed red. He was pissed. Storming off the bike, he headed towards the cracked helmet but instead of picking it up he kicked it forward, again, and again. 

______________________________________________

Meanwhile… 

I stood there in my front doorway dumbfounded. My gaze lingered on the distance where only minutes ago I could see Angel, who left me standing here rattled, confused, and with questions unanswered. I was completely and utterly heartbroken but what did I expect? A shower of love? The same declaration?

I knew what I signed up for when I allowed our friendship to turn into something more. I allowed myself to be deluded with the idea that I could turn it around and make our relationship into something more meaningful. 

How did we lose our way? 

Angel was always there. We had always sought each other’s company for brief moments of solace which had never included sex, until now.  

How did we get here?

I didn’t want to cry. I couldn’t allow myself to. 

I was filled with so much anger and rage that it almost masked the sadness. The flames had been fanned and now it was too late to put out. I burned with loathing. For myself, and for him. I wanted to scream, at him and at the world. The worst part of it all was the fact that I still wanted him. That small, beaten up piece of me still loved him.

Backing myself inside the house, I grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut, I then opened it and slammed it shut again. I continued to repeat this process for what felt like hours but was no more than a minute, pushing my arm harder and faster. 

I let out a scream that was filled with all my rage and frustration. I allowed my body to sink to the floor, hands concealing my face as I finally allowed the tears to come. I suddenly turned into a waterfall, with the tears beginning to cascade down. I was a mess. 

Who had I become to allow a man such as Angel, to make me feel this way?

Sighing, I wiped away my tears and leaned myself against the door. I couldn’t move. It was ridiculous. I felt ridiculous. 

“Who am I becoming?” I asked out loud. 

Minutes seemed to tick by as I sat there, knees brought up to my chest, hoddie clinging to my skin as I let my thoughts wash over me. They wouldn’t stop. I tried to think of how this could have been handled better. Could I have gotten a better outcome?

A roar of a bike drew me out of my thoughts. I stood up quickly, tripping over my own feet as I rushed to the front window to peak through the blinds. Surely it wouldn’t be Angel? The man ran with his tail between his legs at my confession. I couldn’t believe he would come back to face me – to face what I said. 

But it was. It was him. 

I watched him as he turned off the engine of his bike and sat there. Whilst he did, I took the time to take in his appearance. He looked similar to when he left, though perhaps it was the expression on his face that made me doubt that. He looked unsure. I focused more closely taking in his finer details. It was then I noticed the crack, which jutted across the plastic of his helmet that was there to protect his eyes. I tried to stop the fear that spiked through me as I began to think of what could’ve happened. 

Walking back towards the door I opened it again taking a step outside. He looked up at me, the sound of the door groaning behind, notifying him of my presence. 

“What are you doing back here Angel?” I asked as I walked towards where he still sat on the stationary bike. 

“Your lack of response made it fairly obvious as to how you feel.”

I allowed my arms to cross over my chest. The heat of the afternoon sweltering around me, and with no wind to be felt, sweat began beading on my forehead.

Now that I was outside, I could take in his full appearance and by all accounts he looked okay, aside from his helmet. He was unharmed. 

“If you are just going to sit on your bike, in my drive-way ignoring me, I am going to go back inside. So, either talk or you can leave, again.”

He looked over to me then, eyes searching mine. He looked deflated and defeated, insecurity oozing from him. He took his helmet off, placing it carefully on the handlebars. He got up and leaned his body against the bike, this time, taking me in. 

“You know that I know I don’t deal well with the emotions shit yeah?” His hands searched his jacket pocket for something, “I don’t know how to process it all. So… what happened before is how I-I react – deal with it.” Finding what he was looking for he placed the cigarette in his mouth, and lit up. 

Dragging the cigarette away, puffing out a circle of smoke, he continued.

“Regardless of that. I know deep down I do fucking care. About you; us. All of it. I guess I took advantage of the fact that you let me come in, to push that shit away. I don’t like that I did it but I did and I can’t take it back.”

There were no words that could express what I was experiencing. Angel was confessing. To me, about his feelings.