Idiosyncrasies of a Shadow // (ManxMan)

~Chapter 25~

[Felix]

*~*~*

These battle scars,

Don't look like they're fading.

Don't look like they're ever going away.

They ain't ever gonna change.

These battles...

-- Battle Scars, Lupe Fiasco (ft. Guy Sebastien)

*~*~*

My fist collides with a dark figure, backlit by the morning sun. There's a blank space in time for a brief period of time, no one says anything, not a thing moves. It's as if I've bent time with my punch, waiting for the consequences to catch up with me.

And it does.

Laying on the ground is a frail figure, wiping away tears and blood alike. The punch is supposed to relieve my stress, it doesn't. The stress keeps layering on like snow at a glacier. Compressing my existence into a solid state, moving slower than time did just a moment ago.

The blood, the bruise, the tears. His tears, my tears. I was provoked to hit my best friend's brother, and I actually hit my best friend. I wanted to cry, and I did. I already was.

My eyes shoot open, I'm covered in cold sweat. I don't dare to move an inch, knowing that the person clinging onto me is a heavy sleeper unlike me, and I'd be damned if I wake him after ravishing him last night. I thought I was back to normal, feeling more confident and happy about who I am. But no, I still feel weak, like I'm sore from a battle I had fought valiantly. Ironic thing is, Ryland was the one to fight his own battle, I didn't. And I am proud of him.

I ignore the uncomfortable feeling of sweat against the comforter and focus on my breathing, we are both still naked, for obvious reasons. To think that months ago, all I wanted to do was to hit Ryland, and instead I hit someone equally as important. Perhaps more important at the time, but equally now.

Ryland has his face tucked into the side of my chest, his steady breathing cooling my heated skin from the nightmare. Our legs tangled and arms around each other, like a married couple. I smile to myself. He had said he loved me, I thought he would never come to that conclusion, perhaps a different one. We are very separated in our way of thinking, but the fundamental morals are what brings us together.

I get startled when an alarm goes off, Ryland scrunches up his eyebrows for a moment, and turning his head slightly so his forehead is against my chest. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. All of a sudden he shoots up from the bed, then stops moving, I feel a hand on my chest, tracing a faint scar that runs down my ribs. Either a surgery scar or a fight induced one, either way, I remember there was a scar along my side. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then takes the sheets down to my lower half, he must have seen me sweating.

"Ah, fuck." Ryland groans, I tense, knowing that I hurt him in our late night endeavors last night. I hear a bunch of cabinet opening and closing; probably dressing himself. The bed dips, and I feel a cold cloth come in contact with my chest. "Sweaty monkey..." he whispers, I know he hates it when I'm sticky after going to the gym or boxing. "You're lucky I love you. Or else I'm not going to be touching you stinky ass sweat bank of a person."

With one last kiss to my lips he leaves.

I want to groan out loud, feeling conflicted that I have to revert back to being an asshole because I know one day this emotional trough will go away. The one thing I will regret the most after that would be the lack of love I show to Ryland. Unlike Skylar, I can't just let him touch me and hug him, kiss him on the forehead once in a while and call that love. I want to be able to show him physically, like last night, or take him on romantic dates that I know he loves. Now I'm just making myself sweat more than before.