|Tell You That I Love You
Author: R. E. Winterayne PM
Heaving a sigh, and batting the hands away from his shoulders to the mattress, he grabbed the tie that dangled on his chest from around the other's neck, hoisting himself up until he was right in the other's face. "You want to know why?"Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 6,687 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 3 - Published: 02-28-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2895132
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Uh ... Yeah ... I redid it. Redid and overdid, if you ask me. This is a reupload of "To Tell You That I Love You" because I made major, major edits to the entire thing and I think it's so much better now.
Again, this is MxM fiction because that's what works with this "plot". So ... Yeah ... That's my mini rant so ... Enjoy ...
(Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water …
["Why do you never wear red anymore? It looks lovely on you, babe."
"One, never call me that again or I swear to God I'm going to shoot myself in the ears. Second, we've been over this, haven't we?"
"Yeah … But …"
"Stupid twit. I don't wear it because it's pure."]
"You can't do it." He spoke calmly, his back pressed into the mattress, biceps crushed beneath the weight of the knees pressed on them.
The knife pressed further against the skin of his chest, right over the beating beneath the surface. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" the other yelled, eyes wide with panic, face contorted with fright. "I can easily stab you with this! Or hang you from the ceiling with those ugly ties of yours, or … or …" he paused and tilted his head as if thinking of other ways.
"I meant that you didn't have the balls to do it." He smirked up at Jonathon, who sat back on his stomach, knife still in his hand. The grin that stretched upon Jonathon's lips at that minute was bordered on insane, his eyes narrowed in irritation.
"Maybe I won't kill you, then. But I still need to remind you that you belong to me, don't I? I can't have you going around and talking to people as you please like that." His hand trailed down the face staring at him from the pillow almost tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing his cheek.
"I'm not your property, Jonathon," he sighed, wriggling in the hopes of dislodging Jonathon's grip on him. "Let me go, damn you!" Arthur yelled when he realized that the other wasn't budging, no matter how hard he struggled.
"No." Jonathon regarded him with that same insane smile. "I think I need to remind you who you belong to, once and for all." His hand rested on the pinned man's heaving chest, gently brushing the edges of his shirt aside, revealing more of the pale, scarred flesh. "I think I'll leave a reminder right here." A fleeting kiss fell onto the center of his chest.
"I don't belong to you. Let me up, I'm not going anywhere." He tried to reason with the bigger male on him. The other raised a hand, striking him on the side of the face.
"Don't lie to me!" he cried. "I know you're lying! I know you're seeing him behind my back! Why, though? He's mortal! He's not like you! I'm like you! You're exactly like me and that's why we make a perfect match!" His voice was thoroughly coloured with desperation.
"What? I'm childish, paranoid and hysterical?" he was still calm, despite the reddening mark on his cheek and the heaviness sitting on his guts.
The other growled, pressing his thighs to his ribs, keeping him from moving further, "Shut up! I love you, why you can't see that?" the knife came down harshly, cutting cleanly into his skin.
His back arched against the pain, but no noise escaped his lips. His eyes clenched shut and his hand fisted into the sheets. "A-a little warning next time won't kill you …" he breathed as the other carved letters into his skin, tongue jutting out in concentration. He could feel the tip of the knife, skimming across his bones, slicing through muscle.
But he refused to make a sound. He just glared straight up at the ceiling with closed eyes, trying to ignore the steadily increasing pressure that was applied by the other with each stroke.
He was panting pain by the time the other sat back again, the knife no longer in his hand, but on the bedside table. "I'm sorry. I love you." Jonathon said in his ear as he kissed away the tears that fell from Arthur's eyes.
A choked whimper was his only response, and he quickly got off of Arthur, who immediately tried to curl in on himself, but instead lay back flat as a ripple of pain radiated from his abused chest. "I hate you. I hate you so much." But there was no hate in his voice, only irritation and confusion. No hate but … not a lot of love, either.
"No, you don't. You love me," Jonathon said, sitting cross-legged by his head, his fingers playing idly with his hair. "You love me. You love me, right?" He twirled a lock around his fingers, trying to distract him from the pain in his chest.
There was no response as the other managed to fight himself to sit up, discarding his bloodied shirt on the ground. "Look at all this red," he muttered blankly to himself. "Did I not tell you before that I hate wearing that colour?"
"And I told you that it looks lovely on you, which it does. Your eyes have never looked darker, babe." He grinned at him and trailed his frozen fingers across the first letter that he had engraved, making the other whimper and flinch away. "This will serve a nice reminder don't you think?"
"I think … I think that you've completely lost it, that's what I think. And don't call me that." He paused and sighed, "Go make yourself useful and fetch me a towel," he said, wincing as he regarded all the red again. Jonathon nodded and went to get a towel.
He didn't return for a while, not that Arthur minded, he decided, as he heard the sound of him throwing up. But when Jonathon did return, he brought along the first aid kit and set to work on his chest, cleaning, dressing and bandaging the letters.
"You really should be glad I put up with all this shit of yours. I hope that you sterilized the knife before shoving it in my chest?" Arthur asked as the other tied the gauze off at his back. He didn't dare say anything about it being too tight, and that it restricted his breathing. His pride wouldn't allow him to.
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Of course I did." He got into bed beside Arthur, growling in irritation when he turned around and presented him with his back. "Come here, let me hold you."
"No. I don't think so, Jonathon." He sighed, letting out a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a yelp as he was roughly turned around and pressed into a chest that was so much warmer and broader than his own.
"Are you mad at me, Arthur? I'm sorry. All I wanted to do was remind you that you're mine …" his head buried in the juncture of neck and shoulder, his words were muffled, but Arthur heard them.
"I'm not mad at you. It's all right, love," he sighed and settled against the other's chest, stiff and awkward with. "And for the last time, I don't belong to you."
"Oh, is that right?" he felt Jonathon groping for his left hand, which he found and held up for the other to see, showing the simple band of steel around his finger, that once again had managed to dig into his flesh, dried blood covering his finger and part of his palm. "This says otherwise, babe."
"If only I had the energy, you would be dead right now, you know that, right?" Arthur yawned, but the threat was still evident in the low tone of his voice. "Now shut up and go to bed."
Arthur woke up to a sea of red, with Jonathon sitting up and staring down at him with a hungry gleam to his eyes. Sitting up slowly, the bandages that had previously been wrapped around his ribs now slid down to pool in his lap.
"Why did you do this?" he asked, wincing at the feeling of blood trickling down his sides. He turned to look out the heavily curtained window, seeing a small ray of Sun streaming in through the crack between them.
He let a smile curve his pale lips, cutting off the other's tirade of words to explain that he didn't untie it, and that it was in fact Arthur's trashing that did it, which Arthur knew was a bunch of lies anyway. The bandage had been much too tight the other night. "What's so funny?" Jonathon asked and Arthur shook his head.
"Nothing. Forget it. So, why didn't you wake me up? Or did you hope that I'd bleed to death if you just left it be?" he asked, the smile turning into a neutral glare that he shot at the other.
"Don't make me laugh. If I wanted you to die, then I would have done it myself, with my own hands." Arthur bit his tongue to quit from pointing out that it technically is with his own hands. "I just let you sleep because if I had woken you up you would have cleaned it all off, and I told you I like the way you look in red."
"Then why haven't you killed me yet? For then I would wear an awful lot of red, don't you think?" he asked sarcastically as Jonathon set about fixing his bandage and wiping the blood from his stomach and sides.
"That does sound like a good idea when you put it like that. If you were dead I could dress you in a lovely blue dress and weave yellow flowers into your hair." He grinned, and bit the side of his neck. "Doesn't that sound lovely?"
"No, not really, to be quite frank with you. It sounds to me like a horrible idea." He sighed and weaved his fingers in the other's sandy hair, "Don't bite, you are not a dog."
["What would you do if you could live forever?"
"What do you mean if you idiot? I can live forever. If I couldn't, I'd be dead by now. Dead, and buried and rotting along with those white lilies in one of those pretty lacquered coffins."]
Standing shirtless by the closet, he tried to find something to wear, that wouldn't press down on his delicately-scabbed chest. Jonathon was behind him, sitting on the bed and staring at his back.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "Hey, Arthur. What are you doing?"
"Trying to figure out as many different ways as possible to murder someone with a coat hanger," he said sarcastically. "I'm trying to find a shirt, you moron."
"Here. Have one of mine. It's the least I could offer you, after all, this is my fault." He snickered, reaching past the smaller male, pulling an old loose black shirt with a white design of some sort of band on the front, slipping it over Arthur's head and forcing his arms through. "Come on Arthur. Go back to bed, please?"
"Why? No. I just got up. And I have errands to run around town today." He struggled to get away from the arm that looped around his waist and held him tightly. "Let me go! I promised Ryan that I'd meet up with him today for coffee to apologize for your behaviour!"
The only response was the arm tightening around him, and he choked on his breath as his chest began smarting. Large hands traced over the letters pressing down on them harshly. "Do you not realize it yet? You're mine!"
"Stop acting like a child! I'm going to leave and then I'll come back!" he snapped, but that only served to scare the other further.
"Yeah, once you finish your date with Ryan!"
"What's your problem? It's not a date! He's the last person I would ever think of dating, and really, it isn't any of your concern." He murmured, giving up and hanging limply in the other's grasp.
Knowing he won when he felt that Arthur had stopped struggling against him, Jonathon grinned against the back of his neck. "You can't leave. You're in no condition to leave. You have to stay here, because if you don't, you'd be wearing a lot of red again, wouldn't you?" A single kiss fell upon his shoulder.
"You really should get around to killing me, love. You know that? Then you could make me do whatever it is you want and I won't argue with you anymore." He was tired of this. "But, again, you don't have the balls to do it."
"We went over this a few nights ago. Don't you remember?" Jonathon hummed against Arthur's hair. Picking him up easily, he lay him down on the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, dropping a quick kiss to his forehead. "Don't hate me, okay? I love you."
"That's lovely." Arthur replied. "It's not just not having the balls, it's more the fact that I can't die, if you recall." He hummed offhandedly, and ran a hand through his coffee coloured hair.
"Yeah. Isn't that a shame?"
"Very much so, love. Very much so." He said, and he received no reply except for the scratching of the key in the lock as the other left. "You really should hurry up and get to that. I'm tired of living like this." He sighed to the empty room.
By the time that the other came back, he had managed to worm his way out of the shirt and untie the bandages, staring in the mirror at the pretty scabs. "Hey there, babe. Miss me?"
"Not remotely," he huffed, not even turning around to acknowledge the other. "And stop calling me that, for pity's sake!"
Jonathon smiled and went around to pull open the heavy curtains, letting the sun spill in and cover the warmth-starved skin of the other. "Why do you keep closing those? It's so nice outside, with the sun, and everything." He turned and regarded the hollow grin on those pale lips. "Why are you smiling? Why do you always smile like that when there's sunlight?" Jonathon asked, as he rewrapped the bandage around Arthur's ribs.
"Isn't it time to change those? Aren't they a little old now?" Arthur asked, ignoring the question altogether.
"I suppose they are." He hummed as he tied them off. "But there's no point in wasting any more bandages on this, is there? I mean, you'll just rip them off again anyway, won't you? So you'll have to stay with these for now."
"If this gets infected, I will be very pissed with you, you know that?" he said, closing his eyes against the bright glare of the sun. "I don't want to carry around more red than is necessary."
"But if it gets infected it will scar all that much more nicely, don't you think? This is one message that you can never get rid of, babe." He bit gently on Arthur's ear, setting shivers racing down his spine. "Now, answer me. Why do you always smile like that when there's sunlight?"
"Because, love, it amuses me that the sun can shine so bright, but it still can't dissipate the darkness that hangs over this place." He grinned at the other, turning around in his grip. He laughed at the other's slightly baffled look. "Don't try to understand. Your intellect won't be able to handle it."
"One of these days, I'll kill you." Jonathon spoke quietly. "I will. I swear on it. I'll take those flowers you love oh so much, and shove them down your throat until you choke on them." He hummed contentedly into Arthur's back.
"I'll be waiting for that day."
["Hey, Arthur, do you love me?"
"Not at all, love. Why do you ask?"]
"Why have you never told me that you love me, Arthur?" the voice was soft and innocent in Arthur's ear, coaxing him gently awake.
"Get off of me." Arthur said, turning around as best he could, with Jonathon hovering over him, knees positioned right by his hips and hands pressing on his shoulders, his forehead pressed to Arthur's shoulder.
"Not until you answer my question." Jonathon shook his head and grinned. "It's not like you can beat me. You know that."
Heaving a sigh, and batting the hands away from his shoulders to the mattress, he grabbed the tie that dangled on his chest from around the other's neck (one of my ties), hoisting himself up until he was right in Jonathon's face.
"You want to know why?" he hummed, enjoying the look of clear surprise on the other's features. "Because." He let the tie go and fell back to the bed with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just because."
"Oh, well, I love you." He sat back on Arthur's stomach again, straddling it, making a ridiculous looking heart with both his hands and grinning at the other. "I love you." He repeated.
Arthur's hands inched along his chest, pressing on the slightly raised skin of the scab that was there, scraping his nails lightly across it. "Yes, I know that." He sighed again, "You throw that around like punctuation, you know that, right? It gets frightfully annoying after a while."
"I know, but there's no choice." That psychotic, insane grin was back on his lips, stretching wide from ear to ear. "I have to remind you that I love you."
"I thought you did that with the knife several nights ago. Or was that to remind me of something else entirely?" he asked dryly, rolling his eyes and narrowing them slightly in annoyance.
"Of course. That was to remind you that you're mine, and this is to tell you that I love you. They're two different things, aren't they?" Jonathon blinked at him and grinned, this time a normal grin that didn't make shivers crawl up Arthur's spine, but instead made his hand itch to form a fist and beat it off his face. "I'm going to go make breakfast."
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm. Keep this up and I won't even let you out of here in order to eat with me." Jonathon tsk'd and left through the door, locking it behind him and padding away down the hallway.
"Yes, and that would be a big shame now, won't it? I think it's preferable to eat up here by myself than with you …" Arthur yawned and settled back down under the covers. Jonathon, however, seemed to think otherwise, since he went as far as carrying Arthur down the stairs, nearly tripping several times around his mess.
"I'm not hungry." Arthur stated as he was set down gently in a chair, which was pushed into the table harshly, slamming his ribs against the side of the table.
"Nonsense, babe, you have to eat breakfast." Ignoring the steadily growing red spot on the front of his shirt, he sat down beside him, and started to feed the reluctant male next to him.
After several minutes, Arthur's head turned away and he shook his head silently, dropping his head to the surface of the table and groaning slightly in pain. "Stop, please, I'm done."
"Nonsense, babe, sit and eat." Jonathon propped him back up. "Oh, you're bleeding again, aren't you? Does it hurt you?"
"Not as much as you, love." Arthur said finally. Patting the other on the cheek, he got up, stalking back up the stairs and snapping the door to the bathroom shut behind him.
There were several minutes of silence while Arthur disposed of the old bandage and got some new ones and set to cleaning the letters that were so cleanly cut into his skin. He sat for a few moments, staring at his reflection, almost admiring the clean knife work of the other.
"Hey, Arthur, are you sure that you don't love me?" Jonathon asked from the other side of the door. Arthur could sense that grin back on his lips, "I mean … You married me, didn't you?"
"If you could call that married, then yes, I suppose we are married, but there wasn't even a cross there. Or witnesses. Or a priest, as you recall." Arthur replied, "And besides, love, I only agreed because you wouldn't stop pestering me about it."
"I love you." Jonathon said, ending the conversation and walking away from the door, letting Arthur emerge, re-clad in his shirt. As soon as he was out, Jonathon wrapped his arms around his middle, lifting him up easily.
"What do you think you're doing, Jonathon?" he asked in irritation, "Kindly put me down. Now." He added when he saw Jonathon shake his head in refusal, holding him tighter around the chest, making him gasp and squirm.
"No. Injured people need their rest. You need to go back to bed now," he tightened his grip ever so slightly.
"Let me go, you oaf! You're hurting me!"
A large hand rested on his chest, and he looked up, only to be met by that grin once more. "You're mine, Arthur. You're mine, and you'll always be mine. Understand?"
"Love, if you don't stop acting like an overgrown child soon, then I swear I will leave you, and yes, it will be for Ryan." The smaller male spoke through clenched teeth as he was placed on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm sorry. I love you. But you're mine." Jonathon said, and kissed the bloodied ring, blood oozing once more. "You won't do that, anyway. You love me."
"I'm starting to doubt that, myself, love." Arthur snorted and grinned, "Beyond that, don't tell me what I can and can't do. I can easily leave you."
"If you do that, I'll drag you back here and kill you." Jonathon said, his face completely serious. "And then you'd be wearing more red than usual."
"Not if you suffocate me with my flowers or lynch me to the ceiling with one of my ties. Then I'd be blue, love." Arthur stated.
"But you don't like wearing blue either, right? So it's still the same. I'll just give you a red dress instead of a blue one." Jonathon smiled. "Even though you would look a lot better with a blue dress, I'd say."
"At least make it a tasteful dress won't you? Even if I am a corpse, it would be better if I at least looked presentable." Arthur said before lying down on his side, presenting his back to the other as a clear end to the conversation.
["Are you going to leave me?"
"If you don't quit acting like this, then that is a distinct possibility, yes."
"No … You'll never leave me. You love me."]
Bubbles forced through his nose as the little breath he had was stolen from his lungs. The hand fisted in his hair tightened and pulled him up to the surface, before repeating the cycle again.
"You really think you can do this to me?" Jonathon hissed in his ear as he plunged his head back in the icy water. This time he waited until the bubbles were almost gone before yanking him back up. "I told you, you shouldn't be talking to people behind my back like that!"
"Let me up …!" he was plunged back in as soon as the words left his lips. His chest pressed against the porcelain edge of the tub, banging against it as he struggled in vain to escape the hand in his hair. "I didn't do anything!" he gasped as he was pulled up again, yelping as he was forced back down.
"Don't lie to me, Arthur. I know you were with him again. With Ryan." Jonathon seethed in his ear, his face white with anger. "I know you're seeing him behind my back, you can't deny it!"
"I can deny it, and I will deny it, because it isn't true." The hand in his hair loosened and he came up, coughing violently. After he caught his breath he allowed himself to turn around and glare at the other from behind his drenched hair. "Well, love?" he asked, venom on his tongue, lacing his words, "You can't come up with anything better than drowning?"
"Sorry. This was kinda spur of the moment, you know. Not much room for creativity." Jonathon snorted and crossed his arms. He eyed the blood that was once again dying the other's drenched shirt since the bandages had long since fallen off, the colour bleeding its way across the translucent fabric.
"This isn't the way to do it, love. It won't make me wear blue or red." He chuckled under his breath before letting out a breath of pain as he was stripped of his shirt so that the words could once again be dressed and bound.
He didn't fight as he felt himself being lifted, opting to hang limp, drained from his time spent under the water and in no mood to argue with Jonathon when he was being so gentle in placing him on the bed.
Jonathon's thumb caressed his cheek as he placed a single kiss on his soaking forehead, glancing at Arthur with the smile in place, a manic gleam to the stony gray of his eyes. "You can't leave me. I told you that if you try I'll find you and drag you back here and kill you. I told you, right?"
"Yes, yes. I've heard that before." He was shivering, the shirt had been put back on him clinging to him like skin and freezing him to the bone.
He looked up briefly and was met with that sickening grin once more. "You're wrong, babe, your lips have turned blue." Two cool fingers touched his lips, which were quivering from the cold.
Arthur turned his face away from the fingers, a scowl set firmly upon his features. He growled at the other, his upper lip pulled back in a sneer. "That's what happens when you nearly freeze someone in icy water."
With that said he curled up under the covers, pulling them over his head and shivering even harder than he was before with the loss of the warmth that bled from Jonathon's hand.
He kicked and fought as the other held him tightly through the sheets, pulling him against his broad chest with only the cover between them. Eventually, he settled down and allowed himself to be held, melting into the warmth of the other and shivering pathetically against it.
["I love you."
"I know you do. I tolerate you, too."]
"Hey, Arthur. I can see things in the window." Jonathon said, shaking Arthur awake in a state of panic. "Arthur, wake up!"
"Hm? What is it, you idiot? I'm trying to sleep, something that you should be doing, too." Arthur snipped back, turning further onto his side, showing the other his back. He growled, low in his throat, when he felt a hand gripping his shoulder and turning him around violently.
"But Arthur, I can see things in the window! They won't go away!" he pressed against Arthur's back, pressing his nose between his shoulder blades, feeling the jut of the scars where his wings used to be. His hand snuck around his waist, pressing them flush together.
"You oaf, let me go! You are not a child, and I don't care if the headless horseman is leering at you through the glass, go to sleep!" Arthur struggled against the tight embrace of Jonathon's arms.
"But it isn't the headless horseman, Arthur. It's you. It's you and Ryan. You're together, but without me. Is it a premonition, Artie? Are you going to leave me one day for Ryan and I'll have to see you with him?" he breathed in his ear, his hand wandering up to press once again at the words that had yet to stop bleeding.
"If you don't get away from me and go to sleep right now, yes, it will become just that." Arthur said through gritted teeth, burrowing further into the pillow. "Don't call me by those stupid nicknames of yours. Even 'babe' is better than 'Artie'."
Jonathon pouted and rolled off, but not before giving his left hand a gentle squeeze and whispering in his ear, "I love you. You won't leave me because I love you." He said to the ceiling, not letting go of Arthur's hand, even as it stayed completely motionless and unresponsive in his.
"I love you, Arthur."
["You're so pretty. I love you."
"Do not lie to me about these things, Jonathon."
"Who said that I'm lying?"]
"You're so pretty." Jonathon smirked against his neck. His breath fanning across the delicate skin it found. "So pretty." Arthur could feel the upward quirking of the other's lips against the curve of his neck, where the other was pressed.
"Shut up, you idiot. I am not pretty. Girls are pretty, and I am not a girl." Arthur said in mild irritation, not even turning away from the book he was currently reading; a lovingly dog-eared copy of William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.
"You know what would make you even prettier? If you were wearing red right now. I told you, babe. You look amazing in red." Jonathon said, nipping at his ear, tugging at the hem of his tight green sweater.
"And I told you to be quiet, didn't I? I told you that I hate wearing that colour, and I certainly am not going to change my mind just because it'll make me look prettier." Arthur deadpanned, more of his irritation bleeding through his voice.
"I love you, Arthur," Jonathon said, nuzzling his face in Arthur's neck almost lovingly, almost warmly. Nails dug into the scabs on his chest and Arthur cringed, squirming and fighting as Jonathon dug his nails in deeper. "You love me, too. Right? You aren't going to talk to Ryan anymore, are you? Because I'll have to hurt you again, and you know that I hate hurting you."
"You're hurting me. Let go." Arthur panted, his breath ragged and his eyes glazed with pain and anger and confusion and reluctance.
"See? Now you're a lot prettier. Now that you're wearing red." Jonathon said happily, like a little kid. "So much prettier. I wonder what you'd look like in blue."
"Why don't you shove me in the freezer and leave me there to find out just that?" Arthur said, sarcasm dripping from the roll of his eyes.
"You know what Arthur, I think I'll do just that. Come along now, babe." Jonathon said and hoisted Arthur over his shoulder, beginning the short walk to the freezer. "I love you, you know." He said, kissing the other's temple as he set him down on the ground once more, "Please don't hate me for doing this, okay? I love you."
"Jonathon, if you love me, then why do you insist on doing this to me all the time? Why do you insist on hurting me?" Arthur said, his voice far from soft and questioning, but cold and accusatory.
"Because! If I didn't do this, you wouldn't know that you're mine! And if you didn't know that, then you'd leave me for someone else, and then I'd have to get my hands dirty, killing the both of you." Jonathon explained, hugging Arthur close to his chest possessively. I love you. I love you! Oh, God, I love you. Please believe me." He said, burying his nose in Arthur's hair, inhaling deeply.
"Jonathon I—" Arthur was cut off as he was forcefully crammed into the large freezer that was resting up against the wall. He sighed, watching his breath puff out before him, fanning across his thighs, which were pressed against his face.
By the time that Jonathon opened the freezer to take him back out, his lips had turned blue, along with his fingernails, which contrasted magnificently with the flush of his cheeks and the paleness of his skin.
Small crystals of ice clung to his eyelashes, and he was shivering. Small whimpers spilled from his mouth as he turned stiffly to look up at Jonathon, lifting his arms as best he could, begging silently to be taken out.
"See, babe. You're so much prettier this way. Blue is definitely your best colour." Jonathon said, bending down and plucking him up and out, cradling the frozen body against his chest. Arthur curled against the warmth, whimpering and sobbing and shivering.
"Now I'll do that to you every time you leave me. I'll put you in there, because it makes you look so pretty." Jonathon crooned in his ear, making him shudder and keen. "I love you, Arthur."
There was no response, just the shivering and the gradual recession of the blue from Arthur's lips. His breathing began to even out, but he made no move to get away from Jonathon's grasp.
"Are you going to see Ryan again, Arthur?" Jonathon asked, sitting down on the sofa with Arthur curled in his lap like a cat. A pathetically shivering cat. He shook his head furiously, sitting up and looking at Jonathon with a mix of desperation and confusion. Jonathon smiled, tapping the tip of his nose. "Good. I love you, Arthur. Do you love me?"
The only thing that Arthur could do was nod and curl back into the other's lap and shiver against him.
["How many times did I have to ask you to marry me before you agreed? Do you remember?"
"Yes, I remember. You asked me fifty-seven times over the course of forty nine years. I never agreed to those, however, I agreed because you'd moved on to threatening me to agree."]
"That's a lot of red …" Jonathon poked at his chest, right on the angry red skin surrounding the letters, watching the foul smelling liquid ooze out.
"I told you that it'd get infected, didn't I?" Arthur sighed. "And yes, that is a lot of red. I do hope you know that I'm rather ticked with you right now?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I—" he was cut off by a slender finger pressing against his lips and a glare sent from the smaller one before him. Jonathon smiled when he noticed the tinges of fear and desperation swimming in his eyes.
"Finish that sentence and I swear that I'll murder you in your sleep." He threatened under his breath, removing his finger as Jonathon threatened to lick it, body too sluggish to even attempt moving himself away.
"What? Most people would want to hear that they're loved. Just look how many times I've told you already!" Jonathon said, with that grin again, tugging one of his shirts over Arthur's head and grinning as he met no resistance.
"Three thousand two hundred and fifty seven times. And this is over the course of almost exactly a hundred and seven years, fifty eight of which we've been married." Arthur answered, his tone bored, as he felt the other trace the letters on his chest with a delicate touch through the fabric.
"You keep track?" Jonathon chuckled, "See? You love me!"
"I only keep track because that's how I am. Don't flatter yourself too much. It's not good for that ego." Arthur snorted.
"Whatever. I love you. You're mine. You're not leaving me. Ever." Jonathon grinned and dropped a butterfly kiss to the back of the other's neck.
"Yeah. I know that." Their hands laced together, the blood that leaked out from beneath the wedding ring once more congealing between them as the window puked in sunlight.
…Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.)
Wasn't that fun? Several things that I need to clear up now because many people have nagged me about these details to the point where it gets annoying:
Arthur's eyes are green. I don't know how that annoyed people, but it did. If you didn't know, red and green are complimentary colours, so red makes green dark and vice versa.
He doesn't wear red, blue or yellow because they're pure. That means, they're primary colours and cannot be mixed. That is because somewhere in his past, he killed someone, which makes him think that he deserves this treatment, even though he does love Jonathon.
He loves and cares for Jonathon. There are hints everywhere. Like when Jonathon asked him why he never says that he loves him, he said "Because." not "Because I don't." Plus, he puts up with this so ... That has to count for something.
This is set during modern times. They're immortal because they're Fallen Angels because Arthur killed someone. This isn't medieval.
They are married. I don't know how some people managed to miss that because they talked about it a bit somewhere up there, but they are. The rings are just made of steel because Jonathon made them himself.
I had half a mind to post this under "Humor" because if anyone notices the tone, it contains a lot of dry humor, courtesy of Arthur, because that is my brand of humor, but I didn't, because I doubt anyone finds something like this funny. The humor is tied with Arthur's characterization, because he killed someone and he feels he deserves this, as I've mentioned, so he deals with it by being cynical and sarcastic. Like me.
Sorry for the repetitiveness that seemed to drag on, and on in their conversation (i.e. "I love you"; "love"; "babe" etc) but there was a reason for that, too beyond stretching this to stupid proportions, and it was to create a sense of frustration that Arthur feels, because Jonathon acts this way and the repetitiveness of this behaviour, and the cyclic thought processes of someone as insecure and paranoid as Jonathon must have. Sorry if that went a little over the top but ... Yeah.
This is not a story about Jack and Jill. I just added it because it tied up their relationship so nicely that I just had to add it. I don't lay claim to Jack and Jill.
This was a project for school, because I have issues that way, and it was a Theme, Motif, Symbol story. Theme was The Dark Side of Love, Motif was Messages, and Symbol was Sun. Sun and Messages got inverted at one point, but whatever.
Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine and I hope that you'll leave a comment.