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This gave me nostalgia too. Just the two of us in the back of his car, marveling at the approach of another long night. Shocked that we’d survived another day.
How many nights had we laid together in the back of this vehicle, telling each other every fucked-up thought in our heads because no one else would listen? How many nights had we fallen asleep in each other’s arms, because parting felt like one of us might not be there the next morning?
How many times had we told each other to keep going, tokeep fucking fighting, because if one of us gave up, there was no hope for any of us at all?
“Feels like a lifetime since we watched the sunset,” I said.
Manson was seated close beside me, his arm pressed against mine as he lifted his can and took a sip. “Been too long. I feel like I’m losing track of time. The days keep disappearing.”
I nodded as I took out a cigarette and lit up. I took a long drag, savoring the slight burn in my throat and the hit of nicotine. I passed it to him, and he looked at it between his fingers for a long time before he took a drag.
“I should probably quit,” he said. The words made a pang shoot through my chest like a bolt. He was right, we both needed to quit. But sometimes, when I saw him getting better, when I saw how hard he was trying to be a better man, I felt like I was being left behind. He was able to do what I couldn’t, and although he kept trying to drag me along with him, I still lived with the fear that eventually, he’d fix himself and I’d still be broken.
Too broken for him, for any of them.
We’d met each other at our lowest and risen out of that together. We’d been desperate back then, searching for any reason at all to keep going, and we’d found that in each other.
How selfish was I to worry that he might not need me anymore?
It was weird how it seemed like he could read my mind. He passed the cigarette back and said, “Do you know why I wanted you with her? Why I sent you inside with Jess, instead of having you with me?”
It was like he knew that had hurt me. And I’d tried not to let it, I’d really tried. But it kindled my fear that he was pushing me away. I’d protect him, I would always protect him. But if he wouldn’t let me…
“I have the worst temper,” I said, inhaling slowly. “Your dad isvolatile and I suck at keeping my cool. Figured you were trying to avoid the situation escalating.”
I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, although I was still staring toward the setting sun.
“I knew you’d keep her safe. I knew that no matter what happened, if my father wanted to hurt her, the last person he’d have to get through was you. And he wouldn’t get through you.”
He wasn’t the kind of person to say that out of pity or lie in an effort to make me feel better. Manson had always been careful with his words and he said what he meant.
He plucked the cigarette from my fingers, inhaling deeply. He cupped my face, his fingers tracing back over my jaw until he grasped the back of my head and pulled me close.
He kissed me, his taste so familiar, the sharp pinch of his teeth on my lip igniting a fire in my chest. I grasped his shirt, fingers knotted in the fabric as his tongue pushed into my mouth and the scent of him filled my head with need.
I’d thought I was losing my mind when I met him. When I met this boy who was so much like me, who shook with pain and rage like I did, who was looking for a reason to live like I was. The way he made me feel, like I’d finally found this glittering sliver of goodness in the world, was fucking terrifying. I’d never cared one way or the other about the gender of the people I slept with — although my dad had tried to beat it out of me when I told him I’d fuck whoever I damn well pleased, it hadn’t dissuaded me.
I’d found someone I trusted enough to be vulnerable with, something I thought was impossible.
“I’ve missed this…” He ran his fingers along my jaw, traced them down my throat and then laid his hand there. He didn’t squeeze, but I liked the weight of his hand. “I’ve missed you.”
“I know,” I said. I didn’t like change, and it seemed our lives had been in constant flux for so long now. It made me anxious, and when I got anxious, I withdrew. I pulled away from the verypeople I was closest to. Like I needed to punish myself for feeling anything at all.
“You told me not to walk out on you.” His breath brushed over my skin, and my lips parted with the desire to kiss him again. But I didn’t struggle; I let him keep me under control even though I wanted to sink my teeth into his skin and taste his blood on my tongue. “Now I’m telling you the same thing. Don’t walk out on me.” He tapped the side of my head with his finger, his tongue running slowly along his lower lip before he said, “When you’re physically in front of me but not with me mentally…I can’t stand it. I need you with me, Lucas. Do you get it?”
“I get it,” I said. He held the cigarette to my lips, carefully, allowing me to inhale.
“What do you need from me, pup?” he said. His hand squeezed my neck, and I let the smoke curl from my mouth. “You have that look in your eyes, you know. Like you need something, like you need…”
He let the question hang, his dark eyes searching mine.
“Hurt me,” I said. His pupils dilated, his lips parting as his breath quickened. “I need you to hurt me. Control me.”
Sometimes I needed to destroy myself, and I needed it done brutally, mercilessly. I needed pain to remind me I was human, to root me in a reality that oftentimes felt too chaotic to bear. There was no chaos in the way Manson could overcome me. It was the opposite; when I gave him control, I felt peace, clarity.
I reached up, tracing my fingers down his cheek. He really was a beautiful man. I loved the way he leaned into my hand, how his eyes never left mine. He said I often spoke silently, and that was why he watched my face so carefully. He was looking for the things I left unsaid.
“You’re what I need,” I said.
