Pretty Boy

I Knew You'd Haunt All Of My What-Ifs

Hogan:

Crowded with unrest prickling at my skin, I try to bring my body and hold Serge, letting him cry into me.

The news of what happened went by so fast. I was at lunch waiting for Serge to come and eating under a tree to pass time easily. He didn't even come when I waited, and even though I wanted to feel disappointed about it, my mind can only try to be patient with what he's feeling. He needs to be guided right now and doing something as shocking as hitting someone in the face is definitely not what Serge normally does.

He feels so done when I hug him and his body melts into numbness at my touch. I want to comfort him. Be with him even at his lowest. But if he's not trying to take anything from me at all, I doubt I'll bother to give him more. I know he feels wrecked and I know how bad everything creeps on him, but right now it looks like he's only ruining himself and I can't bear to be the one who'll stand by and watch it all unfold.

"It's fine, Serge. It's fine." I say, trying to comfort him.

I bring my hand up to brush his hair and hold him firmly. His eyes hadn't stopped watering and his body was trembling like crazy. My mind is baffled by how bad it must've been for him to react this way. I doubt that it has something to do with Yuri because I could tell from the torn drawings on the desk that he's the one who started it. It was my drawings that were parted, which I just realized because of the outlines of his face on the paper. It must have something to do with it. If he wants, I could easily draw him millions of them, and I wouldn't bother going out of my way to make more good memories with him.

"I'm sorry, Hogan. Again." He says, while burying his face on my shoulder.

I hugged him tighter while shaking my head subtly. "No, Serge. You don't have to feel sorry. You didn't mean to do it." I reply.

I know how much he thinks that I'm probably going to feel done with him sooner because of what he's currently feeling, though I still can't bring my head to think that I'll ever lose him. I'll wait even if it means that I have to deal with this every day because, honestly, every part of him matters to me and I'll try to make him feel like he matters too.

"You don't understand, Hogan. I'm fucking messed up." He says this as he moves away from my grip. "I don't even know if I didn't mean any of what I did. I just felt so tired of everything and I thought hitting him would solve it. Yet, I feel fucking so worse, Hogan. " He continues to look me in the eyes. "Do you know how much I wish others would just look at me the way I thought I deserved? It's not like. It's not fucking like that at all."

My heart drowns with mellowness from thinking that he ever felt that way. I don't ever want him to feel that it matters what people think about him, though it sometimes does, but I still wish he'd only look into what I feel about him. And what I feel about him is true, and not even others can dictate that. He's Serge, and even if he keeps pushing me away from him, I'll keep coming back to every scented memory of him. Because I love Serge.

He slumps in a chair and brings his hand to his face. My mind swirls into hoping he'll feel more rather than be sorry for himself as I try to move from behind him and trail my hand around his neck.

"I'm just so tired now, Hogan." He says.

My hands take his hands off his face before looking at him again and walking in front of him, bringing my forehead to his. "I know, Serge. Just don't let their words change the way you are. I love you no matter what. Always remember that."

He looks at me, straight in my eyes, with such intensity that makes me feel weaker every time, and I bring my hand up to his cheeks, gently wiping off his tears before bringing my lips to his. He feels so soft and raw, and I doubt I'll ever feel any more different from how he makes me whenever we kiss. It was slow yet affectionate and my heart burst with hope from feeling him.