Breaking The Mirror [Edited And Complete]

Slipping Away

"Fucking Hell."

Seaton says, and seems to mean every letter. I just can't... damn it. I don't want this to end. Just bring those damn lips back to me and- and I'll do anything.

I'm still holding onto his shirt, and I'm warm, so I'm pretty sure he's still holding onto me. Just don't let go. He just can't let go. It wouldn't be fair. God, just fucking kill me if this ends. Finally, real kisses, and the 'beautiful' and Seaton and I'm completely speaking gibberish now. His forehead, resting in against mine, his lips tantalizingly close -

Damn it.

I need to go. No, I need to stay. I want to look at those paintings again. I want to sit in the middle of the floor and look for the other painting of me I have yet to find. No. I just want him to kiss me again. Just... nothing else. Just have him kiss me...

I knew it. I said that before, didn't I? I said only weeks ago that just wanted him to kiss me, just one more time. And now I've gotten one more, now. But my desire is not satisfied. Will it ever be? Will I ever by free of this burden, of feeling wanted, safe, of loving Seaton so terribly?

I want another, and after that one I want another, and another, and another and a-fucking-nother, okay? I know that's selfish but-

But I can't bring myself to fucking care. Is that so bad?

He pulls his head back and I open my eyes to peer into twin coals, on fire, smoking hotly with something that flashes under his lashes like flames licking his pupils. Fucking hell. So true. But I doubt he said it for the same reason. He regrets it. He's... drunk. Confused. Something. He'll take it back and I'll have to go back to the kiss-less life to which I've become accustomed.

His lips part again, and instinctively I lean forward although some part of me doesn't believe it's possible for him to kiss me again. Instead of coming forward to meet my advance, he speaks.

"Brat, this n -" He starts, but I know what he's going to say. My eyes close, clenching tightly, and my fingers tighten further around his shirt, until I feel my knuckles throb.

"No!" I say, perhaps too loud for our close proximity. "Don't say it again, I can't pretend it didn't happen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, even if you want to forget it, I don't."

I can't bear to look at him.

"I won't expect you to do it again. I'm sorry... so just let me remember it."

Why am I panting? Or am I at all? My breath feels shallow but it echoes it my ears as though it were magnifying in the air and in my mind, warping itself as it passes through my lips and travels down the narrow canal of my ears. My heart is surprisingly still, perhaps as paralyzed with fear and shock as I am, for usually it would be attempting to run from my body, tearing at my ribs.

"Fine," Seaton replies, and his voice is hard and thin, as though it were strung tautly between his lips and my ears. "But you should know that I don't want to forget it, brat, it's just better, easier if I do."

And again my eyes flutter open to meet narrow black ones, "But... why?"

Warm hands on my face. Fuck. Fuck, please kiss me again. Just once more. That's a lie, but I don't fucking care, just kiss me again. Don't just sit there staring at me like that.

"You just got away from one abusive adult," Seaton replied. Thumb, brushing my cheek. God. God, just -fuck. You're killing me. Trying to drive me insane. But -wait. What the hell?

"You're not abusive!" I gasp as his meaning sinks in, "You're- you're the best-"

"Jayden," he says firmly, and his fingers rub circles on the spot below my ears. Don't do that. Don't fucking do that. I bite my lip. Do you know how much effort I'm exerting to keep quiet? Do you even know what you're doing to me? Touching me there, saying my name like that. "I'm an adult. I'm seven years older than you, and you're not even of age, if I forget the fact that you were molest and raped-"