I <3 Ivana.

As for me I hope I'm wrong.

Forget me...it's that simple.

I had a dream last night and in my dream I took a knife to you.

Chapter Eleven: [insert clever title here]
Summary: "Don't tell me, 'cause it hurts."

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You don't move from your spot at the table until John stumbles through the door carrying two suitcases and a plastic bag from Radioshack. Apparently he did go get a new phone. "A little help, please?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Leaving your phone on the table (it's been off since Jesse hung up on you), you hurry over and take the Radioshack bag. "I see you got a new one."

"New one?"

"A new phone."

"...Yeah. You need one, remember?"

"Thanks." You decide it's best not to bring up anything that might result in a fight. You really aren't in the mood (or the mindset) to argue. You bring the bag to the table, setting it down gently and turn your back to it while John puts his things in the bedroom.

When he comes back out the first word spoken comes from his lips: "So?"

"So what?"

"Did you call?"

"Call who?"

"Adam, stop it!" Laughing a little, he goes over to you and places his hands on your hips, pulling you toward him. You have a few flashbacks from last night and swat at his face until he lets go. His smile fades slightly but not completely. "Did you call the number?"

"Oh, yeah."

"...Aaaand?"

"And what? There's nothing to fucking tell. It was a wrong number, that's all. Just drop it."

"Oh. All right then." He kisses you on the lips quickly and snatches the new phone from the table. "Where do you keep this?"

"Over by the couch," you say, giving weak hand gestures in the right direction. You watch him struggle with the box momentarily before he takes out a switchblade and slices through the tape that was keeping it sealed. "You carry a knife?"

"I was a boy scout for, like, ten years. I've come to never leave the house without it." You must have been giving him some look because he starts laughing again. "Don't worry. I've never used it on anyone and I don't plan on it."

Yeah, well, you didn't plan on driving Jesse to the brink of insanity and having him up and leave you in the middle of your first tender I love yous. "I see."

"I bought you a cordless phone. And it has caller ID and an answering machine built in."

"Oh, joy! Maybe we can record a message together!" You abandon your faux excitement, roll your eyes, and go into the kitchen for a beer. John doesn't say anything, but you can hear him setting everything up. You don't really feel like taking the bottle back out where he can see you, so you opt for leaning up against the sink instead. You know that you're going to have to talk to him about what happened last night eventually, but you don't have a clue what to say right now.

"Hey, Adam?" he calls from the living room, and without a word you go out there and sit beside him on the couch. You take a sip of your medicine and look at him, waiting for whatever it is that he's going to say. You're too uninterested to guess what it may be. "It's been two days since Jesse left." When he doesn't say anything immediately after that, you wonder if that was all he dragged you in here for. But then he continues. "Are you sure you're ready for another relationship?"

...Where the fuck did that come from? "Who said we were in a relationship, John?"

"Well, I mean, we had sex last night. I just kind of assumed that you..."

"That because I fucked you that I want to be with you? Honestly, I don't even know what happened last night. I don't know how that happened. Probably because I just want Jesse to come back so bad and because you were the only thing I had to touch me. I don't want to be in a relationship with you John. Not now. Not ever. You are a psycho and you are driving me insane. Yeah, you do some nice things like making meals and buying me a new phone, but all of the mind-fucking games you're playing completely overwhelm any of the good that you do."

"Th...The games that I'm playing? You, Adam, are the one who gave me head last night! You are the one who instigated the entire thing! Either you want me here or you don't. Which is it."

"I do. But only because I don't want to be alone. Kind of like you."

"Then why don't you try treating me with a little respect? Why don't you stop changing your opinion of me every few hours?"

"Why don't you stop having mood swings?"

"Why don't you go five minutes without having a beer!"

"...I need a cigarette." You stand up and go into the kitchen, patting yourself down until you find the pack you bought yesterday crammed into the pocket of your jeans. You're wearing the clothes you shed last night because you were in too much shock to dig for clean ones. Not like it matters anyway; no one cares.

"Just escape to your poisons, Adam!"

"You're one to talk, Nolan! Remember that I'm not the only one who drinks myself retarded when things go wrong!" You light the end of the stick and take a deep, deep drag, letting the nicotine and tar and cyanide and carbon monoxide and all of those other nasty things they say are in these fill your lungs until there's no room left. But it isn't helping. Not when you breathe out and then do it again. And not the third time. And not the fourth. And then you start crying. You drop the cigarette into the sink on top of the dishes that still haven't been washed and you put your face in your hands and you sob. You cry out everything that Jesse ever meant to you. He lied to you again. He fucking lied to you again. You love him the best you can, and this is what he does to you. Is he really worth the effort that it takes to desperately hang onto him?

While your body shakes and heaves with breaths, John comes up behind you and tries to hold you. You pull away at first, but he won't stop trying. So you give in and, in fact, end up clinging to him like you would Jesse. Your fingers clench his shirt tightly — for once it's actually his shirt. Your face is halfway between his chest and shoulder and his hands are rubbing your back while he whispers soothing sounds and phrases. But it isn't helping because he smells like John Nolan, not Jesse Lacey. That was really what always got you to calm down, no matter what. You wish that he was still wearing Jesse's clothes...

"Adam, please. Don't cry over him. I used to do that."

"I can't help it. I've never loved anyone like I love him. I've never wanted everyone to know. I've never actually cared what my parents would think of him if he were a girl. I've never done any of the things for anyone else that I have done and am doing for him."

"I can tell..."

"He made me feel complete like you never did." John doesn't say anything to that either. You know you shouldn't have said it, but it just slipped out before you could think about it. You don't like to remember that brief period when you and John were a couple. Neither of you does. There was a lot of fighting (both physical and verbal) and a lot of frustration. The entire thing rocketed through a turmoiled two weeks before you decided that it would be easier if you worked as two people instead of one. You were just too different. Were.

"If you love him so much, then why did you let him leave?"

"Because I knew he had to. And I know that, if it's supposed to happen, he'll come back when he's ready."

"What if he never comes back?"

"Then I don't know what I'll do. Probably nothing."

"You wouldn't go after him?"

"I wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't be able to. I'd just be...destroyed if I knew he didn't want me back."

"I'd still be here for you."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"I know."

"But I know you would try."

You don't even notice that you had stopped crying a long time ago until you look up and into John's eyes. He's hurting. He wants to help. There is guilt and pain and regret in those dark irises; more than you think even you can get your brain around. "I would. Because I don't hate you, Adam. I—"

"Don't say it." He stops and you think that he understands why, too. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"I get it. It's cool."

Whether it actually is or not, you feel that now is an appropriate time to kiss him; so you do. A kiss that lets him say what he wanted to without him actually saying it. And it's the words that matter, not the actions. Hearing it out loud makes it final. Makes it definite. Makes it real. And you can't handle this being real. You don't want it to be. Because the only person you are supposed to love is Jesse Lacey. But it's hard to love someone who doesn't exist anymore. And John is here for you when you need him (and when you don't). Right now, though, you need him. Boy, do you need him.

"It was Jesse who called earlier. From his parents' house."

"Why would Jesse call out of the blue like that?"

"I don't know, but he obviously either wasn't expecting me to answer, or just panicked, because he hung up as soon as I answered."

"Did you try calling him back?"

"Again? No. I was just as surprised and scared as he sounded."

"Maybe you should."

"And maybe I should go jump out of that open window. We're only seven floors up. Maybe I'll bounce."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"John, it's the first I've heard from him in two days and without him even telling me anything I find out that he lied to me again. He said he couldn't go back to his parents."

"...I don't really know what to tell you, Adam."

"I could fucking kill him right now." But, of course, then you'd have to kill yourself, too.

"You don't mean that. Just let it pass. Forget about it." John kisses the top of your head and continues to hold you, rocking you gently. You can't help but get the feeling that something is missing. And then John starts humming. For the first time since you were twelve, you actually enjoy hearing this song. But you never could have guessed that this moment would be shared with John.

V is very, very extraordinary and (h)E is even more than anyone that you adore.