Follow the River

I know it’s not true, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling guilt because of those words. His mouth drops open slightly in a way that is almost comical, as he gapes at me. Blinking in rapid succession, attempting to process my vicious retort. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head in disbelief before speaking again. “What is happening right now?” he asks slowly.

“I guess you could say I’m ending whatever this is between us.”

“How can we end things when we’ve never even started?” he rumbles, a menacing tone to his voice. “You’re keeping me at arm’s length, and for what? Don’t you see all I want is to be here for you? You just won’t let me!”

“And don’t you see I don’t give a flying fuck about what you want? I shut everyone out! You’re nothing special!” I roar, my temper finally getting the best of me. I regret the words instantly, because they are the furthest thing from the truth, but I keep digging myself a deeper hole to bury myself in once he walks out of my life for good. “I don’t need you, River. I’m not some fucking pet project you can sit here and try to fix. A broken toy you can put back together, piece by piece.”

“I don’t want a goddamn project,” River shouts as he throws his hands down, his voice booming through my tiny apartment. He swallows roughly and shakes his head before speaking again in a gravel-filled voice. “Jesus Christ, Rain. I just want you.”

My brain screeches to a halt as it processes his declaration.

I just want you.

Never in my life has anyone uttered those words to me, and I didn’t realize until now how much I really needed them. How desperate I was to be desired, not sexually, but in general. As a whole person.

My body ignites in warmth at the recognition that this is what it feels like to be—fuck, loved. But the moment is short lived when the reality of my situation drenches me in despondence like a bucket of ice water, reminding me that River and I…we will never work.

And that thought? The sting of it might as well kill me.

“Well, I don’t want you,” I grind out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue, but I have to swallow down the poison I’m forcing down both our throats. It’s for his own good.

If only he would take my words at face value.

“That’s such horse shit, and you know it. You had my cock down your throat not ten minutes ago—” he glances to my crotch— “and you’re harder than fucking steel as we stand here screaming at each other, yet you don’t want me?”

My fingers on both hands latch onto the strands of my hair. Partly in irritation, but mostly so I don’t do something insanely stupid, like touch him. Or fucking kill him.

Lowering my voice to a deathly soft level, I force myself to toss out insults. It’s the only way I can think to get him to leave, to forget about me and what we had while up in the mountains. “Here’s the thing, Abhai

The lies keep piling up, but I hold my ground, daring him to challenge me again. Part of me, hell, all of me wants him to keep fighting, if only to keep him here in my apartment and in my life for a little while longer.

But I can’t stand knowing I’m hurting him and inflicting damage to the bond we share with every word leaving my mouth.

River spins away from me, walking through the living room to the wall of windows. He leans his arms against the glass pane, resting his forehead against them, causing the muscles of his back and shoulders to ripple under his shirt. “You can sit there and pretend nothing happened in that fucking cabin, but we both know you’d be a fucking liar. So what? Now since we’re back, you’re done with me?” Turning back to face me, he slants his body back against the wall. The fire in his eyes is burning me from across the room as a bite is mixed in with his tone. “You told me you didn’t want to lose me. But what you’re doing right now is making sure you do just that.”

Holding my arms out to the side, I let out a quick huff of agitation. “What did you think would happen? We’d come back from our fuck fest in the mountains and magically be a couple? Live happily ever after?”

Because yes, that is exactly what I thought.

I don’t let my thoughts derail me. I advance on him, pi

Nausea started overwhelming my senses a while ago with each and every lie I threw his way, but that one causes bile to rise in my throat. I think I might actually be sick.

I hate this. I hate myself for having to push him away. I hate River for not letting me. I hate these circumstances we’ve found ourselves in. I hate Ted motherfucking Anders, and the rest of the goddamn world.

I hate that I can’t love him the way he deserves to be loved.

River winces, tears starting to well in his eyes as he searches mine. “Is that really how little you think of me?”

No baby, I think the world of you. I’d give the whole damn thing to you, if only I knew how.

But instead, I go in for the kill. “And therein lies the problem,” I smirk, my voice tainted with calamity. “Because I don’t think of you at all.”

River pushes me, spitting mad and boiling with rage. His hand comes to my throat, gripping me there firmly before spi

I don’t make any efforts to fight him off. Even I am self-aware enough to realize the shit I’m spewing is more than enough reason to be knocked the fuck out.

Only he doesn’t deck me.

He slams his mouth to mine again, his soft and supple lips attempting to coax the truth from me, and it’s physically painful not to cave and kiss him back. I know he’s trying to pull some emotion from me, to get me to reveal my lies to him.

Which is why I don’t kiss him back.

I let his lips mold against me, not giving an inch, even when his tongue slips along the seam of my lips before prying them apart. Something like a moan, or maybe a sigh of frustration, leaves him at my compliance. His teeth nip at my mouth and his hands roam my still naked chest. All of my willpower is being focused on the fact that Ted will kill him without batting an eye if he ever found out what River means to me, giving me the strength I need to resist his onslaught.

River breaks away after a moment, realizing I won’t give him what he’s seeking, before leaning his forehead against mine. My eyes slide closed at the contact and I simply breathe him in, filling with disappointment that our last kiss was an empty one.

“If you put half as much effort in trying to make us work as you are in trying to rip us apart right now, we could be fucking unstoppable,” he mutters softly. “We’d be everything.”

His words hit me like a bullet to the chest.

We already are, my love. You are everything. I only wish I could tell you that.

For a moment, the tiniest of a nanosecond, I debate giving in and telling him everything. Not just about Ted, but about every dark and depraved thing I’ve done, that has been done to me, that was beyond my control.