Falling For A Murderer (BoyxBoy)

Guilt Ridden

"Is he going to be OK?" Claire eventually asked, looking out to Sam, whom still sat outside.

"I god-damn hope so."I sighed, following her gaze. "He wanted some time alone but he still hasn't come back in. I don't know whether I should go to him or not."

"The worse thing that could happen is that he just asks to be alone again. Fucking do it." Damon joined in.

"And if he does, maybe you ought to stay and talk."

"That would defeat the point of him asking to be alone."

"Yes but he might appreciate it if his fucking boyfriend made a fucking effort." She rolled her eyes. I held up my hands in surrender, and bowed my head slightly.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it." I made my way out back, silently making my way to Sam. I slid next to him, and sat beside him.

"Go away." He muttered, as I wrapped my arm around his waist.

"Not right now." I whispered. I pulled him onto my lap and turned him to face me.

"Don't act like I'm a toy. Maybe I don't want to sit on your lap like a fucking kid."

"I get that you're still pissed."

"You acted like killing that guy was the norm. Don't you realise the guilt I'm going to carry, and that you should carry, after what we've done?" He cried, his anger fading to sadness. "Perhaps I should have just gone forward, told them it was me." he continued, tear forming in his eye. "It would have saved two guys' lives, saved his family from the mourning and sadness." The tear had increased it's numbers, and they prayed for escape. "What have I done?" The tears fell, one at first, followed by it's descendants, each following a singular path down each side of his face. My arms made their way up his back and pulled him into me. His face nestled into the part of my shoulder that joined my neck, and I help him as he shook.

"It's not what you've done that you should be asking, it's what we've done." I spoke up. "Firstly, we saved our lives, mainly yours. I'm pretty sure that dude was trying to kill us. We saved your ass from going to jail, and we know how much of a shit storm that would be."

"But the nightmares, Jason."

"I know, I know. They aren't leaving anytime soon. We'll help each other, OK? And we have Damon and Claire, they're not going to turn their backs on us. Jim can kind of help, if you just keep out the parts where we killed that guy." I felt his head nestle in further, before he leaned back a tad and peaked up at me.

"It's going to get bad."

"Bad doesn't even cover it." I tried at a weak smile. "Honestly, it'll probably become unbearably shit. But I promise it will get better."

"Pinky promise?" He sniffed, holding up his pinky finger. I chuckled, and met it with my own, intertwining them and shaking on it.

"Pinky promise." I sighed in agreement, rolling my eyes, with a small smile on my face.

---

It had been over a week since Sam and I had killed Patrick McKinley, but not a second had passed when it wasn't on our minds.

When before, it was only Sam who had nightmares, the odd night going without one, however now it's usually both of us who wake up, our minds like a broken record, playing the same damned memory over and over again.

Tonight was similar. I lay awake in my bed, trying to stay awake as long as I could so I could procrastinate having the nightmare. The window had been left open, but barely, only enough to let in a smooth, cool breeze, but not enough as to cause discomfort. The moonlight fell in through the window, stumbling through my curtains, who tried their best to hold it back. My boyfriend's arm was partially on me, his hand clutching lightly to the thin shirt I wore. He was half under, half on top of the duvet, and his brown, shaggy, unkempt hair was lying across his face like he was across my bed. He was still, and had been since he'd fallen asleep, only reminded me of his presence when his breathing haltered for a second or so.