Crimson Illusion

Crimson Illusion-Chapter 5-I will be here

“Theory is worthless without practice.”

Alexander’s P.O.V.

I could feel the apprehension coming off of Rayne as he took of his jacket and then took a seat back in the chair he vacated moments ago. He didn’t believe me that I would be able to teach him, but he didn’t dare to voice it.

The earlier power play did it’s job. It wasn’t the job of scaring Rayne either. It was the job of getting him to realize I could make him do whatever the hell I wanted him to do, but I didn’t. With that proven, I cracked his shell even more.

You see, if he knows that I can do it and if he sees that I’m not doing it, he’ll start trusting in the fact that I don’t want to harm him. His fear will slowly ebb in my presence and soon I would have a firm relationship based on trust with him.

In all honesty, to me, his greatest fear was giving up a sense of control he has over himself. Emotional attachment and any kind of emotional display and show of weakness, to him, would be like giving up the control he has to someone else.

It was completely logical when you think about it.

Giving up control, hell, being ‘exposed’ in any way was a one way ticked to ‘pain town’. The person to whom you gave control to would have the most power to hurt you and make you suffer. From that you probably wouldn’t be able to recover in forever.

And even though it was a logical fear, it only added to Rayne’s ten-feet-long problem list. Yes, he had that much problems. It was a wonder how he managed to function properly with all the shit that was going on with him.

But he was like one of those Winchester brothers. Dean, to be more specific. He was like an older brother. A protector. He carried more shit on his plate than both of his best friends. He was a fighter and a warrior. He survived. But he was scared.

He was carrying all of his scars, fears, traumas and all the shitload of other stuff on his own. He never asked for help from anybody. And that was because he didn’t think he deserved help. And, of course, asking for help meant being perceived as weak.

“So what now?” he asked, crossing his arms on his chest. I was sure that if I was anybody else, he wouldn’t have taken off his jacket, purely to have more ‘protection’ between us.

It was sad actually, the way he couldn’t make himself even trust a little. He was always looking for something to protect himself with. Even being in the vicinity of someone who could hurt him even a little was something worth cutting himself later when he was alone.

“First, I want you to promise me something.” I said, looking him straight into his eyes. They were blue, and maybe, if he grew up any different way, his eyes may have turned out brighter, with more life in them.

But this way, they seemed dull, pale in comparison of what they could have been. They were still beautiful, there was no question in that, but something told me that they could be even more beautiful.

“And what’s that?” he asked, tensing up a little. Another ‘problem’. He hated promising people something, anything. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill the promise.

“I want you to promise me that you won’t cut yourself when you go home tonight. That you won’t get drunk and that you won’t chug down a bottle of pills.” I saw the look in his eyes that disappeared as soon as it came so I continued, “When you get home tonight, I want you to make something healthy to eat for dinner or order something, then I want you to sit your ass down in front of the TV and watch the stupidest show possible and laugh at the people in the show. Then you’re going to take something and throw it at the TV because the show is, truthfully, the stupidest thing you ever saw in your life. Then, you’re going to do the dishes, wash your teeth and go to bed. Maybe even jack off, preferably to a picture of me. And then you’re going to sleep.” I paused, seeing him gulp, “No pills. No cutting. No alcohol. Promise me.”