Psychopaths Can't Love

Without his Tiger

A/N: Yeah, sorry about the last chapter. Hate to say it, but it doesn't get any better from here. Hey, don't look at me like that. I've given up my happiness for a couple weeks to write these.

What am I even doing? Like two people are reading this. Oh well. Enjoy... I guess?

-Leah

Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression and self harm, near fatal injuries, and comas.

~

Jim watched as Seb left without a goodbye. Jim didn't really want him gone, but he knew that Seb wanted to leave. Jim should've figured that out himself. If Seb wore concealer over his scars and still hadn't told Jim about it after over two months of them living together, then of course he didn't want to talk about it. Jim was a bloody idiot for thinking otherwise.

Jim turned on his heel and walked into his room, which had been neglected until last night when Seb refused to sleep with him.

Jim's room was organized, at least in his eyes. At first glance, there was no way this could ever be the room of a criminal mastermind. It looked closer to a teenager's bedroom, as it had a sense of maturity through the coloring and setup, but it didn't quite look like an adult's room because of how messy it was.

The large desk was covered in papers varying in shades of white or manilla, but Jim knew exactly where everything was, including the last five meeting reports that he kept forgetting to recycle. He didn't even know why he ever typed those up. He just got bored.

The closet floor was messy and covered in the clothes that were lower in Jim's clothes hierarchy, while his suits were hung up neatly and organized from his favorite to least favorite.

His bed was rarely made, and his pillowcase was constantly falling off of the pillow.

However, if you looked underneath his bed, you'd find several Glocks, not something most teenagers would keep in their rooms. Also, several boxes of sleeping pills resided in his nightstand drawer (to help him sleep on his own).

Jim didn't bother to shut the door behind him, since there wasn't anyone living with him to see him. He walked over to his unmade bed, falling over onto his back. He sighed to himself.

Why didn't his relationships ever work out? They always ended up being toxic or one-sided as Jim gradually lost interest.

However, Seb was different. Jim still wanted him, but Seb clearly didn't want him anymore based on how he hadn't even said goodbye. Maybe Seb had never wanted him in the first place. Maybe it had just been an intoxicated mistake and Seb had been waiting for an opportunity to cut it off.

Jim stared up at the ceiling, making pictures out of the randomized popcorn pattern. No, they weren't really popcorn-shaped. They looked more like enlarged, skinny snowflakes. That one had a part that looked like a piece of toast. That looked like a mountain.

Well this is boring as hell.

Jim rolled off his bed and stood up, unconsciously straightening his plain button-up.

From force of habit, his brain went to Seb and wanting to go bother him since Seb was never boring. Jim instantly remembered that Seb was gone and never coming back.

Jim fell back onto his bed and curled his limbs close to himself. He didn't cry; he just stared at the wall, feeling empty. He hadn't cried for years. It just wasn't how he expressed his feelings.

To be fair, he hadn't really missed any of his previously ended relationships. But he was definitely going to miss Seb. His concentrated frown. His late-night cuddles that Jim never asked for but always enjoyed. His soft "good morning" kisses that made Jim feel like today would be a good day. How he unconsciously rubbed his lips together when he was thinking. How he tapped his pen against his knee when he got bored in meetings.