Breakdown One Shots

I Hate You

(Was inspired for some short hand free writing after reading "One Million Masks" by therealkayelle please go take a read it's one of the better stories I've read in a while and the queer rep is fuckin great.)

Emil was right y'know. I should have just killed you. Walked away. Went cold turkey. Except I'm still glad I didn't listen. You ruined my life. My perception of myself, the world. Everyone's perceptions of me. Which is ironic really that you, a hero, would ruin someone's life so entirely. Especially mine when... by all means the day we met should have been the last.

I'd say that I let you destroy me of course, but that wouldn't be true. While I did infact bring this upon myself without so much as second hand mercy, you took me by surprise and broke me. All of this, till I was so absorbed in you that nothing else was allowed to exist in my bubble. Not even me.

You shot me in the heart without firing a single bullet. You didn't even know it was me. You could say anything and I would do it without a single tick of hesitation in my voice. In my hands. In my mouth. My father would be ashamed. He should be. I should be ashamed of how far I've fallen. For your that is.

I'm not.

I'm glad you ruined my life. I'm not sure anymore that it was a life worth living with all the whispers and the blood. Not that I ever felt dismay, but by any kind of comparison I'd suck on this pain like a terminal patient that's not allowed to eat solids. This to say, I'll gladly beg for your hands around my throat like you did when we were in our prime; back when you still hated me...

But I prefer your kisses. I prefer to hear you breathe rythmically beside me when it's too dark to see. I vastly prefer that when you choke me, you let up when you see my eyes roll back in my head. You pause and think you're hurting me when you couldn't push down hard enough to save your goddamn life. Most of all, I'd trade nothing. It's only all that horror and gore I love so much that makes you utter those words in crowded subways, quiet nights, under the stars, and while I do the dishes. I will never fail to skip a few shattered heartbeats every time you say it (which is often.)

"God, I hate you."

After that you laugh, because we both know what you're really saying.