Fascinating Villains

{59} - Bouquet

Colin's desire to support me now is rooted in the belief that we will stay together, that we can "work" on our companionship and grow into better partners as a pair. He views me as someone who is mature, considerate and open to progression. Someone who is serious about our relationship.

Evidently, his perception is just as flawed as I am.

The doubts that occupy my mind are not simple yet devastating like worrying about my weight or my salary. They're an all-encompassing determination to evolve into the savior Gotham desperately needs - a ray of hope instead of another masked man creeping in the shadows. I clearly cannot handle that while attempting to date someone I care about, not at the moment. Who knows how talented at juggling different sides of myself I will become, however I am not there yet.

I blow out a resolute breath.

"Cole... I'd help you if you were struggling, obviously. But as a friend. This can't go on."

Colin walks closer to me, unknowingly becoming the catalyst of a myriad of slamming doors in my mind. Frail wooden apartment doors. Glossy bedroom doors. Fractured glass doors on balconies. Bruised and punctured car doors. Bright metallic ambulance doors. Thudding, crashing down and colliding into each other; the illusion is resilient and requires a lot of nudging on my end to dissipate.

I painstakingly return his stare, although confronting the icy gray suffering in his eyes is the last thing I want to do right now.

"Why won't you fight for us? We can try harder. I'll show you that you can be comfortable around me, please... Please, trust me... I care so much about you!"

/I've been in love with you for two years! I can't ruin everything we have in a few stupid months!/

I rake my thoughts for a reply, a justification, kind words or key memories I could bring up to alleviate the rising tension. An explanation he could understand to decrypt why I do not want him as my partner anymore.

However, all I can think about is Cheryl, lying on my bed. The outrageous color of her eyes, the smell of her hair, the curves of her body, the shape of her lips... Her voice rings in my mind, challenging me over and over, "Name one thing Colin has ever done to upset you."

"Colin, you can't spend your life bending to my whims. It would be stupid to pretend like you don't comply to every opinion I have. You care about me, I know you do, which is why you're going to stop trying to convince me that this isn't over or that this isn't what I want."

I should have ended this long ago. Our relationship is brittle and harms us more than anything. I am hurting him, especially. Whatever happens now, he is already wounded, and I will not allow whatever remains of our complicity to burn down in a pointless attempt to coddle him. With every passing second, what we have built turns to ashes, and the flames do not wane.

"It's not!" he retorts, irked.

The blonde man lifts his hands. I know he's doing it for emphasis. The rational part of my brain knows that. I know that. There is still nothing that can stop squelching jets of blood from splashing everywhere inside my mind. In dripping red gore, I am assaulted by the statistics. Screams. In a familiar place. Coercion. By a familiar person.

My heart is pounding, and my breathing is thundering and only more uneven. Shivering, I wrap my arms around my stomach, heaving and praying that my sickness can be expelled through my sweat. Every last grain of focus I retain is fixated on annihilating the urge to barf, to faint or to do both in a record-breaking, life-endangering feat.

~

I am still standing, hunched and clasping my forearms as if they're a lifeboat, but the room is not reeling anymore and my head has ceased swimming.