Rating: R
Original Date of Completion: May 2003
Pairing: Scott Thornton/Niklas Sundstrom
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. This is so very fake, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. I cannot stress how much this is fiction. There are things of a sensitive nature in here, including mentions of alcoholism and sexual disease. If that turns you off, don't read ahead.
********************
I know they say if you love somebody
You should set them free
But it sure is hard to do
It sure is hard to do
I know they say if it don't come back again
Then it's meant to be
Those words don't pull me through
'Cause I'm still in love with you
I spend each day here waiting for a miracle
It's just you and me
Going through the mill
Climbing up a hill
This is a long goodbye
Somebody tell me why
Two lovers in love can't make it
Just what kind of love keeps breaking a heart?
No matter how hard I try
I always make you cry
Come on baby, it's over
Let's face it
All that's happening here is a long goodbye
Brooks & Dunn "The Long Goodbye"
Used Without Permission
Scott's POV
I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of. Sex, drugs, body checks, all kinds of fucked up shit. I've looked my own father in the face and wished for his death. And sadly, that wasn't some stupid teenage thing, I was 28. I've cheated on my wife with her friends, her sister, her brother. I've boned my teammates wives, then told them about it. I've done countless fucking things to assure my place in Hell, those things are just the major highlights. On the Scott Thornton Scale of Fucked Up, those were a five, maybe a six. There's only one thing I've ever done that's been higher than that, and it hit the top of the scale with a big fat 10. And I did that to the one person I ever loved most in life. I really am a dick.
They say that if you love somebody, you should set them free. And if they come back, it was meant to be. But if not, well, you're fucked. Who the fuck are 'They'? And why the fuck do 'They' say that? Who the fuck decided that's how things worked? It doesn't make much sense to me. Say you really love your dog, but you live on a really busy road, so you keep him fenced in. Are 'They' saying that you don't really love him if you do that? I guess 'They' just think that you should let him go play in traffic. If he comes back alive, it was meant to be, right? That's a load of bullshit. You have to protect the things you love, hold them, cherish them. Not let them go and play tag with a Buick. I think 'They' are full of shit, and don't really have a fucking clue what they're talking about. That being said, why the fuck did I listen to them?
I really wish I had an answer for that question. I wish I knew how I managed to look Nik in the eye and say the things I did. I wish I knew why I felt the need to say them at all. Fuck, I wish I could explain anything I ever did, let alone what I did to Nik. There has only been one thing in my life that has ever made sense, and he was it. But I drove him away. Why? Fuck if I know. I've got not explanation. It just happened. But to understand that (if that is even possible), you have to understand us. That might actually be even harder.
We weren't a couple you would ever expect to see. I was loud, reckless, rowdy, grumpy; I drank, I fucked around without a care, I was the stereotypical hockey player, really. Meanwhile Nik...Nik was everything I wasn't. Quiet, smart, caring, happy; I'm still not convinced he ever "fucked around", and me and Reech once had to pay him to have a drink with us. He was a model citizen, a perfect example of what one should be in life. He was exactly everything I didn't want to be. I liked Nik just fine, he was my linemate and my friend. But he was nothing more than that. I didn't want him to be. I didn't need him with his starched shirts and khaki pants, fucking up my jeans and t-shirt life. I enjoyed the life I lived, a little too much maybe, and there was no place for a guy like Nik to fit in. Until that "too much maybe" became "too fucking much, no doubt."
~ ~ ~
December 26th, 2002
"Scott," I hear a soft, decidedly Swedish voice sound above me, and inside my head I groan.
I should've known Nik would be the one checking up on me. It couldn't have been Owen, or Recch, or fuck, even Teemu; someone that would bring me a beer and just laugh everything off with me. No, it had to be Captain Do-Good, the one guy on the team that would be concerned about the fact I'm lying on the floor of my living room, surrounded by beer cans and condom wrappers. And I don't think I'm wearing any pants. Just fucking great, now I'm going to get the Niklas Sundstrom Safe Sex Lecture, for the fifty billionth time in my life. What a wonderful way to start my...Sunday. Yeah, it's Sunday. I don't need a fucking lecture, dammit. I was safe. See the condom wrappers, Nik? That means safe in this country, not just sleeping with your boyhood sweetheart your whole fucking life. I do not need his fucking life advice right now. Maybe if I just don't respond, he'll go away. Yeah, that always worked with Joelle...
"Scott?" He says again. I stay silent, keeping my eyes closed. "Scott, I know you can hear me, get up," Again I stay silent, not moving a muscle, which isn't easy to do with all the alcohol running through my system right now. "Scott," He sounds almost like he's shouting, which forces me to bite back a giggle because it was so weak. It works for the most part, but I can still feel my lip twitching. Hopefully he didn't notice. "Fine, you want to be that way?"
He goes silent, and for a second I think I've succeeded in making him go away. But then I feel his hand crack across my cheek, and I'm forced to let him know I'm alive with my startled shout.
"What the fuck, Nik?" I growl, rubbing my cheek as I slowly sit up. The second I'm up, I wish I was back down, but despite the spinning room I'm able to stay upright and keep a glare fixed on him. He just smirks at me for a moment, then shakes his head.
"I thought you were dead, be glad I didn't poke you with a sharp stick," He speaks, sounding and looking slightly annoyed as he gets to his feet. I look up at him, but instantly have to look back down as my head starts feeling like a carnival ride, spinny and nauseating. He sighs, and kicks me gently in the leg. "Get up, I'll make you some coffee. And please, put some pants on, I'm seeing things I really don't want to,"
I glare at his back as he disappears into the kitchen, and try to think of some kind of rebuttal. Nothing comes to me as I stare down at myself, except that maybe he's right. It's not the most appealing sight in the world right now, it's really cold in here. But if it wasn't, hoo boy, it's a beautiful picture, let me tell you. And obviously, I'm still more than a little drunk. Coffee, yes coffee will do me good. But dammit, coffee is in there with Nik. I know he's going to lecture me, he always does. And I'm sure this time he's going to act all worried and concerned, and ask how I'm handling things. Perfectly fucking fine, Nik. Can't you tell? I'm really not in the mood for one of his lectures right now, not like I am at any time, really. Maybe I can just go back to the bedroom and get some pants, and then go back to sleep. He can leave the coffee, I'll get it when I wake up. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Saves me the lecture, and the walk to the kitchen. But dammit, pants are all the way down at the end of the hall. I don't know if I can make it that far. There’s got to be pants around here somewhere...
"Your pants are on the porch," Nik informs me as he walks back into the room, telling me without the actual words that I'd obviously been speaking aloud. He plops down into the Lazy-Boy and focuses his icy blue eyes on mine. "I don't suppose you remember how they got there?"
I shake my head and lay back on the floor. I'm sure if I tried I could remember how they got there, but why bother? I'd tell Nik, he'd shake his head, and then he'd tell me what a fuck-up I was, in much kinder words. I knew the scene well, it happened enough for me to memorize. You would think I'd take that as a sign I did this too much, and slow down, eh? Yeah well, that's what you get for thinking. I like my life, and no annoyingly hot little Swedish guy is going to take that away from me. I don't know why he even tries to. He should know by now I'm not going to change. All his lectures, and annoying sighs and all the slaps he could muster were going to have no effect on me except to annoy me. I am who I am, there's no changing me. And if he doesn't like it, he can pack his shit and get the fuck out, just like Joelle.
"Why are you here, Nik?" I ask, covering my eyes with my arm.
"Does it matter why?" He sighs, and I hear him move in the chair. "I'm just here to make sure you didn't kill yourself, that should be all that matters,"
"I don't need you to take care of me," I snap, slowly sitting back up. "I can take care of myself,"
He snorts a laugh, and stares back down at me.
You've done a bang-up job of that so far. It's four o'clock on the day after Christmas, you are sitting naked on your living room floor, surrounded by beer cans and used condoms. Not to mention your pants are on the porch, and I found your wallet laying empty in the grass. This is taking care of yourself? You're lucky to be alive,"
I glare at him, climbing slowly to my feet. My head starts spinning, causing me to stumble back into the entertainment center. I use it to gain equilibrium, then turn back to Nik. He sighs, and shakes his head in his typical fashion.
"Shake your fucking head all you want," I growl. "My life is fucking fine, and I don't need you, or anyone trying to change it,"
He climbs quickly to his feet, locking his eyes on mine, freezing me in the icy blue. "Is that right? You don't need anyone? You can do it all on your own, Mr. Big Shot Scott Thornton?" His voice is mocking, and for maybe the first time since I've known him, I can hear anger in it. "That must be why Joelle left,"
"Fuck you!" I rage, glaring at him.
"No Scott, fuck you," He snaps back. "You are such a stupid asshole. You take for granted everything you have in life, until it finally up and leaves. Then when you notice it's gone, you drink and fuck yourself silly to accommodate the loss. One day, you dumbass, you're going to wake up from one of your little stupors, and nothing is going to be there. Or worse yet, you just won't wake up. I for one don't want to see that. So maybe I should just leave, like everyone else,"
He storms into the kitchen, leaving me to scratch my head and try to make sense of what he'd just said. It wasn't so much as the words were confusing, I understood all of them more clearly than I wanted to. It was the fact that he'd yelled that left me so dazed. Nik never yelled, no matter how angry or frustrated he got. And he was not the type of person to say the things he did. He wouldn't even joke about personal problems like that, let alone scream at me about them. How bad must I be for Nik to explode like that? Had I let things get that bad? My wife already left me, on Christmas Eve no less. Now the nicest, calmest guy I knew was screaming at me, telling me what a fuck-up I was. Maybe I should take that as a sign that things are too bad, and repent my evil ways. I mean, if a guy like Nik, man of infinite patience, is threatening to leave my sorry ass too, maybe things are too bad.
But if that's true, why wouldn't he just say it? He's already yelling at me; what would the difference be between telling me I took everything for granted, and telling me I was such a fuck-up he was ready to tell me to fuck off? I mean, why would he think I'd even care if he did ditch me? He had to know that more often than not he just pissed me off, and I WANTED him to go away. Did he really think I'd be upset if he did? And more importantly, why did he care what I thought at all? Why should what I do, and feel be of any concern to him? Yeah, we're friends, but we're not that close. We're linemates more than anything else. If I go out and fuck around, and get drunk, that shouldn't matter to him. It doesn't effect me on the ice, I'm having the best season of my life. So why the hell does he care what I do? It's not our strong friendship, it's not my shitty performance on the ice, and it's definitely not because he enjoys our stimulating conversations. So what the fuck is it....
"Why do you care, Nik?" I ask, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, crossing my arms across my chest.
Why does what I do, or what happens to me, matter to you?"
He slowly raises his head from the table and locks his eyes on mine. "If you even have to ask, you'll obviously never understand,"
I blink. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing himself up from the table. He stares at me for a brief moment, then shakes his head. He walks past me, back into the living room, his feet clanking against beer cans as he walked. He curses in Swedish, kicking a can against the wall. It lands against the wall beside me with a clang, rolling against my foot. I glance down at it, then lift my gaze back to him just as he tears open the front door.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice stopping him in his tracks.
He turns back to me, and for what felt like the billionth time that day, he shakes his head. "I'm leaving. I'm sick of seeing you like this. Maybe if you weren't such a fucking drunk, you would see the shit you have, or had right in front of you,"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I growl, stopping him again as he stepped outside.
He turns back to me, locking his eyes directly on mine, freezing me beneath the icy stare. "It means that I love you, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. But I'm not going to let myself, not when you're like this. I felt sorry for you when I found out Joelle left. I just wanted to take care of you, to make sure you were alright. But now, I see you like this..." He pauses, and again shakes his head. "And now I sympathize with her for having to put up with you. I love you, Scott. God fucking help me, but I do. But I'm not going to watch you kill yourself. If anything I said even matters to you, let me know, you know where I live."
Turning away, he let the screen-door slam shut behind him. I watch through the picture window as he storms out of the yard, slamming the fence gate behind him, and stomping furiously to his car. I stay in a daze until his car pulls away, and then what he'd said finally sunk in. He loved me. Niklas Sundstrom loved me. Why in the fuck...That doesn't make sense. What the hell have I ever shown him to make him love me? I yell at him, I tell him he annoys me, I throw up on him, and yet he loves me? There's no fucking way. This is some kind of elaborate joke everyone organized to make me feel better, that Nik got somehow talked into. There's no way this is real. My idiot teammates' signatures are written all over this. You'd think they'd fucking realize this is really not the time to be pulling a joke like this on me. I really don't need something like this after everything that's happened with Joelle....
Joelle. She's really gone. That's why Nik was here, to make sure I didn't do anything stupid because she left. But I did. Three stupid things whose names I can't remember. They obviously weren't that stupid though, if they managed to rob me. But hey, at least they left the wallet. The wallet is probably all I have left now. Looking around, I realize for the first time that Joelle had taken nearly everything with her. That's all my fault, I told her to. I sat there and screamed at her to take her shit and get the fuck out. And she did. Fuck me hard, she left. I never thought she actually would. She'd put up with so much in the past, and now....
Now she'd finally had enough of my shit. And she left because she didn't want to deal with it anymore. Just like Nik had just said. Fuck, Nik. For the first time what he'd said really struck me. He was leaving, just like Joelle. Because I was too much of a fuck-up for him to deal with. I was too much of a stupid, drunken, whorish asshole for him to want to be around. He...he loved me, but he didn't want to. Because...because I was the way I was. He loved me, Joelle loved me, but both of them left me. I drove the people that loved me away because I can't say no to a beer, or keep my dick in my pants. If I even happen to be wearing pants at the time. Fuck! Just fuck me, straight in the God-damned ass, without lube. I drove away Joelle, the one person that always took care of me and stood by me, because I didn't want to change my life. Now I drove away Nik for the same reason. What the fuck was left in my life now? Beer? Puck bunnies? Fuck that. I can't lose Nik over this too, I need him around to kick my ass. I don't know if I understand everything he said, or even if I want to. All I know is I can't lose someone else over this. I...I need help. Now where the fuck are my pants?
~ ~ ~
I went chasing after him that day in a pair of holey sweatpants, and a faded old Megadeath t-shirt. I looked like a homeless guy from Downtown Compton (I know this, because Nik told me.) I guess it doesn't matter what I was wearing, though. All that matters is the fact that I went chasing after him. And that I caught up with him, sunbathing on his balcony. It was very movieish for the first couple minutes; me yelling up at him, him just standing there looking down at me like nothing. I had to finally ask him if I could come up for any actual talking to be had. He just shrugged and said "I guess", then disappeared into his place to let me in. On the way up, I remember thinking "Hey, this is the first time I've ever actually been allowed in Nik's building." Most times when I'd been there in the past, it was just to pick him up. Or to drop him off. Or for me and Reech to serenade him on one of our drunken rampages. Hmm, come to think of it, it was probably a good thing he never let me in his place before that. Smart guy, that Nik.
Though actually, looking back over everything now, maybe it wasn't the smartest thing in the world to let me in that day. If he hadn't, he'd have saved himself a year's worth of arguments, and temper tantrums, and random breakdowns. And of course, the eventual heart shattering pain. We both probably would've been better off had he just told me to fuck off, and went about his sunbathing. He might've finally gotten a tan that way...
But I guess everything happens for a reason. Or so they say. There 'They' go again, saying things. 'They' must be some really smart people, if so many people believe what they say. I still don't know if I'm a firm believer in anything 'They' say. In some cases, I think 'They' are completely full of shit, and I would rather believe things I saw on Jerry Springer. But in other cases, like this event in particular, I believed what 'They' were preaching.
Nik did let me in that day for a reason. And that reason was so I could have my first of many breakdowns, and wind up sobbing against his chest like a little girl who lost her doll. And so I could speak the words I never thought I would, to anyone: I need help. And so we could start on a journey together down the bumpiest mother fucking road in the world, Love Avenue.
He was so great that first night. Fuck, every night really. He held me while I cried; cried for Joelle, cried for alienation from my family, cried for the fact I didn't remember anything from my entire time in San Jose that didn't involve playing hockey. I wept for my life that night, and he stood right by me the entire time, whispering to me how he'd make everything okay. I remember just like yesterday lifting my head from his chest, and demanding to know how he could say that. And I remember his answer even clearer. He just smiled, tapped his heart, then kissed me. Then he made love to me, in the kindest, most gentle way I had ever experienced. We'd go on to have a whole lot of sex, a whole, whole lot, believe me. But that one night was the best time ever. Because that one time told me how much Nik cared, how much he loved me. It didn't make me realize I love him, that would just be cliche and lame. But it did make me realize how great he was, and how he deserved so much better than me, yet was stupid enough to want me, so I had to shape up and try to give him what he deserved.
I tried pretty fucking hard, let me tell you. I don't think it ever worked though. I mean, we had some good times. Great times, even. Even the times when all we would do was lay around the house, cuddle and watch a movie were great times. But I never felt quite right. I always found myself sitting there, staring at him, and asking myself why he was there, why he put up with my shit. Quitting drinking was the hardest thing I ever did. And he felt the brunt of it. When the cravings hit, he was the one I screamed at. But he took it all, and was still there the next morning when I woke up. When I finally got tested, and found out about a couple of (non-life threatening, but gross nonetheless), diseases swarming around in my body, he didn't run away in disgust. He stayed right there the whole time, and never treated me any different. I had breakdowns at least once a month; without the alcohol to cloud my mind, I realized how fucked up I was. But he always stayed. He put up with everything, and never lost the smile on his face. I could never explain why that was. That never stopped me from trying though.
Our entire relationship, that thought was always in the back of my mind. And that thought always brought along some of its friends. Like the thought that I was too fucked up for repair. And the thought that one day Nik was going to get sick of me, and leave me, just like Joelle. I think now, maybe those thoughts had more of an effect on me than I ever realized. I'm almost certain they were why I never felt right in the relationship. Those stupid fucking thoughts were the sole reason why the entire relationship felt like a long goodbye. Even in the great times; the night on the Santa Monica pier, the boat ride in Mexico, Christmas in Toronto, I still felt like it was only a matter of time until we said goodbye. But in all actuality, the great times were just that, great times. I'm not here to talk about those, though. Everyone knows that in every good love story, only the beginning, and the end matter anyway. I've been over the beginning, now it's time for the end, and how our love went from a long goodbye, to just goodbye.
~ ~ ~
January 19, 2003
I stare into his eyes across the breakfast nook, trying to keep myself from drowning in the blue. I'd need a fucking lifesaver for that to happen, those eyes are just too damned deep. His eyes are probably the most incredible thing about him. Though his tongue could argue one hell of a case for it to be number one. Actually, a lot of his parts could argue their case to be number one. But only one of them really deserved that title. And it was one I couldn't see, and quite frankly had no desire to see. His heart. That's what makes this so fucking hard. Well, that's one of the many things that makes this so hard.
I suppose there shouldn't be anything about what I'm going to do that is easy. If it were easy, I think I might worry about myself, and what I felt for Nik. And that's all I need right now, to start questioning my feelings. I already question his, I don't need to question mine. Besides, I already know exactly what I feel for him. I love him, God I love him so fucking much it hurts sometimes. That's why I've got to do this. I have to let him go. I don't want to, God I really don't want to, but it has to be done. I came to the conclusion last night when I was brushing my teeth (so never let it be said I don't think when I'm not forced to) that we just weren't going to work.
We'd had over a year together, countless great times, sweet memories I'd never forget. But for every good time, there were two bad. And no matter what happened, it never felt right. I never felt like we were supposed to be together, no matter what was going on. I always felt like....every single moment we had was just leading up to a huge moment of pain, the moment we said goodbye. I didn't want that moment, but I knew it was inevitable. So it was better to get it over with now, as opposed to ten years from now. I only wish I could go back in time a year, and not let any of this even begin. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like my heart was being slowly cut from my chest with a butterknife.
"Scott?" His soft voice breaks what had been a perfect silence.
I shake my head, smiling weakly at him. For the first time, I notice he's preparing dinner; a cutting board full of vegetables sits in front of him, a packet of chicken on the counter next to him, and he holds a knife in his hand. I wonder for a moment how long he's been doing that, or if he's been talking to me at all. Those are just passing thoughts however, as he speaks again.
"Are you okay?" He asks, emptying the vegetables into a pan, then sliding the cutting board down the counter toward the chicken.
I bite my lip, and sigh softly, running a hand through my hair. "No," I reply honestly, staring down at my feet. "I've got something I need to tell you, Nik,"
"Look at me," He orders softly, and for some stupid reason I obey. "You can tell me anything, you know that,"
He turns to the cupboard at his side, reaching into it and producing a bottle of olive oil. I take the opportunity to turn in my stool, looking away from him like the coward I am. I could feel myself start to shake as I rehearsed the words in my mind. I'm glad I wasn't standing, because I could hear my knees knocking, let alone feel them. I wasn't sure if I'd survive some long drawn out speech, at least not without breaking down and showing him how much this was tearing me up inside. I have to be the strong one here, I can't show emotion. I have to be a man; I've been the crying little girl for far too long.
Taking a deep breath, I run a hand again through my hair, then speak, calmly and plainly. "We're over, Nik,"
The thud of the olive oil bottle hitting the counter sounds abnormally loud, the noise of it rolling along the counter ringing it my ears. It seems so loud, I can barely hear him as he whispered.
"What?" His voice sounds scared, and even though barely audible, I can hear the quaver in it. I beg myself to find the strength to get through this without breaking down.
"We're done," I reply firmly, taking a ragged breath. "I'm breaking up with you,"
"Why?" He demands, a sob cracking his voice. "What did I do?"
I sigh and shake my head. "You didn't do anything. It just wasn't meant to be,"
I push myself up from my stool, moving quickly into the living room, showing my cowardice again. A part of me hoped he would just turn and walk away, out the backdoor. But the realistic part of me knew that wasn't going to happen. He was going to demand answers, and I was going to have to provide them, as untrue as they may be. I was going to have to break his heart, and look at him as I did it. I felt vaguely like I was back in grade 8, dissecting a live worm. Just that thought made me more nauseous than I already was. I was ready to throw up, shoot myself, and cry like I never have before. I just wanted to get this over with, so I could do one of, or all three of those things. I wished honestly that I didn't have to be dealing with this at all. But it was just one of those things that had to be done...
"Bullshit!" Nik wails from behind me, pushing me forward.
I steady myself against the wall, shaking my head to regain my focus. It takes only a second for me to realize that I'd said that last bit aloud, and in that second I felt my heart drop from my chest. Looking at him for the first time through all of this, I notice his tear-stained face, his normally vibrant blue eyes glazed over already with a pink hue. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, something I'd only seen a few times in the time I'd known him, when he was horribly upset, or incredibly angry. Staring at him, into his eyes, I realized he was both of those things, but one feeling shone above them all. Sadness. I can feel tears pricking at my eyes, and I will them back, clenching my hands into fists and biting my lip.
"Nik...please don't..."
"Don't what?" He screams, shoving me again. "Don't be upset about the fact you're ending this for no reason?"
"I have a reason," I mumble in reply, looking away from him. I can feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I hope desperately that he can't see it.
"And what is that?" He sniffles, slipping his hands backward into the sleeves of his sweater.
I take a deep breath, releasing it with a slow, ragged sigh. I know what I have to say. I knew from the first second this whole idea hit me, that there were only going to be a few choice words that would succeed in pushing him away. But standing here now, listening to him, seeing the heartbreak in his face, I wasn't sure I could say them. It was more than just lying to him. It was ruthlessly lying, with the sole intent of smashing his heart so he'd leave me. This could've all been so much easier had I just fucked around on him, or drank, or any one of the fifty thousand fucked up things I used to do before him. But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My little black book was in my hand, and the double-deuce was sitting on the table. And both of them wound up somehow in the trash. Staring them down, suddenly my life before Nik didn't seem all that appealing. So I tossed them, and decided to start my life without Nik the hard way. The evil way. The heart shattering way. The way I only hoped I could make it through without breaking down, and exposing myself for the disgusting liar I am.
"I don't love you anymore," I speak softly, keeping my eyes on the floor.
Silence. Pure silence. No sniffling. No crying. No speaking. The only noise I can hear is that of the Grandfather clock from the dining room, ticking, slow and methodical. I'm afraid to look up, afraid of what I might see. When I rehearsed this all last night, I pictured his reaction in my head. He just sort of stood there, motionless, silent, like right now. And like right now, I couldn't look at him because I was too afraid to see him. Eventually though, I found some balls, and looked up at him. And when I saw him....he was frozen, a statue. He'd turned to stone, all grey and charcoal covered. His soul died when I told him I didn't love him anymore, and he turned to stone. I just remember staring into his eyes, so grey, and empty. They were haunting. And I know it was just some picture that popped into my head, but I was scared of it. I just didn't.....
The screen door slams with a loud clap, windows rattling softly. Instantly my head shoots up, my eyes darting to the door. Through the glass I can see Nik, walking slowly to his car, his shoulders slumped, his hands clenched into fists. It seems unreal to be standing there, watching him walk away; for a moment my body jerks and twitches, demanding I charge after him. I want to, so badly my legs throb from standing in place when they know they should be walking after him. But I force myself to stay put, just watching him as he climbs into his car, and speeds away.
Away. Out of my life. It worked. I pushed him away. It was over. I'd done what I had to. He was gone now, without a word. I'd spared us a whole lot of future pain by creating just a little pain right now. I had to do it. I had to do it. It was for the best, for both of us...
But if it was for the best, why do I feel like I just shot myself in the chest? I'd pushed him away, I'd smashed his heart and pushed him away. Fuck me. Losing any and all strength I had, a sob wracks my body, pushing me violently into breakdown. I burst into tears, my vision clouding quickly, pulling the color from my world. I'm reminded in an instant of the vision of my head, Nik as a statue, with his dead soul. I wonder as my knees give way if this was how he felt just before he turned to stone, just before his soul died. It had to be, because I could almost feel my soul gasping for breath, writhing inside me as it suffered a slow death. As I fell back against the entertainment center, my head colliding with a shelf, I was hit with an unrelated realization. This was the place he'd first told me he loved me. And now, this was the place where he last told me he loved me. I'd pushed him away. I'd smashed his heart and pushed him away. Fuck me. Just....fuck! I really need a fucking drink....
~ ~ ~
That is, as they say, all she wrote. There 'They' go again, saying more shit. And this time, they threw 'She' into it. I still don't know who the fuck 'They' are, and I especially don't know why 'She' is writing about the end of things. That's got to be a depressing job, constant heartbreak, no happiness. I don't think I could handle it, always knowing just the sad stuff, never knowing if things were ever resolved. She must be one real tough lady. I consider myself a tough guy, but I could never handle that. I can't even handle my own story, knowing that nothing was ever resolved. There's no way in Hell I could handle other people's stories on top of that. There are still days when I want to stay in bed and cry all day, because it still hurts so much. I wonder how 'She' deals with our story, or if it even appears on her radar. It's probably just another story of heartbreak to her. But still, I wonder how 'She' feels about it. And most of all, I wonder if she ever plans to write a little more, or if that really was all 'She' wrote. I have a sad feeling though, that that is all 'She' wrote for us.
I haven't heard a word from him since that day. A couple of days after it all went down, he was traded to Montreal. I still wonder sometimes if maybe he asked for that trade, so he wouldn't have to be around me. In the past, I would've said no way, Nik didn't walk away from his problems. But the last memory I have of him is him walking away from me, so I don't really know anymore. I guess I never will, either. I know he'll never speak to me again, and I can't say I blame him for it. He didn't even call and ask me for his stuff back, he sent Hannan for it. And me, I'm way too much of a coward to ever talk to him myself.
Though I guess, maybe, I'm not so much of a coward. I didn't run back to drinking that day. I almost did, I had the bottle of gin in my hand, with the cap off. But before I even took a drink, I threw the bottle against the wall of 7-11, and just decided to deal with my problems. The way Nik taught me to. I haven't touched a drink since that second month we were together, when I cracked and snuck off to a bar in Dallas. That was over a year ago. And since that last day when he walked away, no one has touched my dick but me. I never went back to my life before Nik, I just started a life without him. My God, it hasn't been easy, at all. But so far, I think I've done okay. It'll probably never be easy, but whose life is, really? I'm making due with what I've got, and trying to live a good life. I think that's sort of brave to me. Nik would be proud. I'd imagine, anyway.
I guess I'll never know though. Unless one day he finds the letter I buried inside his racoon bank, and decides that my words mean something to him.
Dearest Nik,
Throughout our entire relationship, I always had some stupid thought, telling me it was just a long goodbye, just something killing time before the eventual end. I realize now that that wasn't true. It was a long goodbye, but not because it was killing time between beginning and end. But because there was no way you could ever leave my heart, making what we had the longest goodbye there could ever be. I love you, Niklas. I always will. I'll never say goodbye, and I hope you won't either. Thank you for saving my life.
Eternal love,
Scott
I know that some insignificant letter could never make what I did okay. No matter what I do in life, or where I go, that will forever be the worst thing I've ever done. No letter could ever change that, nor do I want it to. I want to remember forever the mistake I made in pushing my angel away from me. The only reason I wrote the letter was to give him some semblance of the truth, and let him know that no matter what, I would never say goodbye. I was right when I thought our relationship was a long goodbye. It was, the longest goodbye I'll ever have; because no matter how long I live, I'll never say the words. I was right about that, one thing in 32 years isn't bad. But more importantly than myself, I hope 'They' were right, when 'They' said that what was meant to be, would be. Que sera, sera. I hope they're right this time.
THE END
© 2003 Triple X
