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Aramis sat at the edge of the bed, watching Logan sleep. His blue-and-green eyes fixed unwaveringly at the silent, resting form of the man who'd put the thick gold ring on his finger, a sort of silent reminder of his counterpart's promise for marriage and a happier life. But as Aramis turned the ring around his finger, his eyebrows gradually knitting together, it finally dawned on him that Logan wasn't the marrying type. Sure, he'd turned his head and looked the other way before. Sure, he'd disregarded the fact that Logan had slept with more men than Aramis had ever gathered the courage to even speak to, but then again, Aramis had decided to let it all slide. After all, the past was in the past, and he and Logan were starting over fresh, the slate wiped clean of all their sins and past misdeeds that hung so heavily over his head.
Yes, past misdeeds were forgiven. But what about those committed in the present?
What of the men Logan was still sleeping with when he thought Aramis wasn't looking? What of the whispers and the rumors that followed them wherever they went, the strange, knowing looks they got when they were walking, hand-in-hand? Everyone was a potential suspect in his eyes now. Every man who turned to look at Logan was a possible candidate to make it into his bed, the next willing participant to ride that particular pleasure train. It was no small wonder why Aramis refused to sleep with Logan at all; he already knew Logan was getting more "affection" than he could ever need, even without his fiance, the supposed love of his life, being there.
Again, he let his eyes drift over Logan's sleeping form, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, bathed in the cool moonlight that danced through the opened window. Oh, he loved Logan. Yes, he did. He'd tried so very, very hard to keep this relationship afloat among the torrential, violent sea of lies and deception Logan had thrown it into. He gave his all to Logan... and Logan gave him nothing but heartache and a sickening sense of ravaging distrust in return.
It was at that moment that Aramis allowed himself to cry. He'd held it in as long as he was able to, but this was just too much. All of the bitter memories, combined with Logan's peaceful sleeping, had pushed him to the edge. How could his conscience not keep him tossing and turning? How could he not be plagued by nightmares and nagging guilt? How could he continue to look Aramis in the eye and tell him he loved him while undoubtedly saying the same thing to some other hapless soul caught in his trap? Hiding his face in his hands, he let loose a flood of tears, struggling to keep his voice down, lest he wake Logan from his painfully peaceful sleep.
Aramis opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the sleek silver revolver he kept in there. He already knew it was fully loaded; he'd put the bullets in himself the night before. With a steady hand, he pointed the gun towards Logan's head, then, after a moment or two's consideration, pointed it at his own. He toyed with the ideas of murder and suicide, perhaps even considering both, if he felt the need or desire. Back and forth, back and forth, he pointed the gun towards himself then towards the man he loved. "Logan, Logan, Logan," he whispered, his hand trembling as he aimed directly between his lover's eyes. "Why'd you lie to me? Why couldn't you be honest? Just because I care for you doesn't mean I'd let you walk all over me. I was there to wipe your tears whenever you cried. I was there to lend you my strength when your load became too heavy to carry. I was there to lend you my breath when you were suffocating in grief. I was there to help you walk when you were stumbling in doubt. All I asked was that you be honest with me... that you return the love I was giving to you. Why did you do it, Logan...? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Do you enjoy making me cry?"
Aramis steadily pressed against the trigger, watching as the hammer gradually pulled back. But just before it seemed he would fire the fatal bullet, he eased his grip on the gun and put it down. He wiped his tears away and gathered his things as quietly as he could, finally ready to walk out of this hollow shell of a "relationship" and never return. Twice he dared to love Logan and twice he got burned. There wouldn't be a third time. Fully dressed and fully packed, he reached for the gun on top of the bedside table when a thought flashed through his mind. Taking a deep breath, Aramis instead removed the engagement ring from his finger and left it beside the gun for Logan to find when he awoke. Hopefully, upon waking up the next morning, Logan would be so overcome with the shocking realization that Aramis would no longer be there for him to take advantage of that he'll use the gun on himself. Aramis would be cleared of any wrongdoing.
As if he'd done anything wrong anyway... If Aramis was guilty of anything in his relationship with Logan, he was guilty of loving him too much.
As he walked along the dusty dirt path away from the inn where they were staying, Aramis began to whistle a tune that often lightened his mood when he was feeling bad, although, for some reason, it didn't seem to make him feel happy. That's when he realized, however, that the reason why his mood wasn't lifting was because he couldn't possibly be any happier now that he was out of this trap.
He was no longer a self-proclaimed "Prisoner of War."
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Tue May 10, 2005 @ 05:59pm · 1 Comments |
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