A/N: I had to get this out of my system. Rated due to some sexy scenes. Wahey..
Yeah I got lazy towards the end. Enjoy, anyway..


"Please don't do this. I can't b-bear watching you go, please!" I burbled through the sudden flow of tears that threatened to overflow from my already stinging eyes. His tall form was turned away from me; something he only ever did when he was extremely angry.
But in the end, it all came down to me, didn't it? I was the one who'd made the mistakes, he was always the perfect one; something I failed to acknowledge before I fucked up.
"Why?.." I barely heard his choked question, and I swear, my heart stopped when I did actually hear it, and register the emotion behind it.
I couldn't answer. How could I? I had caused this, me, not him.
"I was scared he'd take his life! What would you have done? It doesn't make it right, but.. I couldn't.. I couldn't just let him kill himself," I gasped out, the tears finally beginning to overflow as my legs gave out, and I caved to the floor, in a sodden, pathetic mess.
He turned a steely, wet eye on me, and the pain in those piercing blue eyes scared me too much, so I looked away. I heard his voice again, rough and blistered with emotion.
"I've been by your side for four years, Rae. Four years! And yet you cheat on me with some guy I don't even know. I thought we were okay, you know? Thought you cared. And now you're here, apologising. Make up your mind, you disgusting slut, do you care or not?"
It wasn't his words that broke me, just the tone of his voice. What had I done?
"No, Alec, please.. Do-don't say that. There's nothing that I can do that'll make you hate me less, but just know, I have NEVER stopped caring. I may not have a decent bone in my body, but fuck, Alec, I care, especially about you."
He turned away, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the wood of the drinks bar we had bought together, a few days after we'd moved in together. We were so in love. What had I fucking done?
"If you cared," his voice broke and I heard him breathing heavily, trying to compose himself. "If you cared, then why is this happening?"
I paused, and my mind reeled for an answer.
"I .. I don't know how to answer that. I don't even know if there's much point. It seems either way you're leaving. N-nothing I say will make a difference anymore. I'm selfish.. And, I tried to change that and reach out to someone who needed help.. But it got out of hand and I feel aw-awful –" I gasped again and began to sob, sinking even further to the ground, and soon the shag-pile carpet became damp with my constant flow of tears.
"I honestly don't think you understand," his words came suddenly, and they were far away. I looked up, and he stood, with his back still to me, right by the door. I saw a glinting of metal in his hand, my heart stopped again and I rushed forward on the carpet, reaching to grab his leg, but chickening out at the last minute. "So help me to understand!"
He turned to me once more, his eyes now blank and filled with hatred. "If I understood it, maybe I could."
With that, he reached for the door handle, and simultaneously raised the metal in his hand. "You'll get this back. I need it to collect my things. I'll make sure to do it when you're out. I'll leave it on the counter."
He pocketed the key, and left without another word.

I don't know how much time passed after he left. I think it was two days. Needless to say, I didn't eat. Nor did I sleep much, but when I did, I had constant nightmares. It got so bad that I spent most of the days sitting on the couch, curled up as small as I could get. I didn't feel anything for the first day; it didn't feel real yet. Either that, or I had taken too many pain relievers to even begin to feel anything. The second day was worse. My family had arranged a remembrance mass for my godmother. I didn't even recall it was the first anniversary since her death until I got the phone call informing me of the time and place. I dragged myself out, put on a brave face and got through the mass. I was dropped home shortly after; I didn't think I could bear the drinks afterwards. Too many people.

He didn't even come round to collect his stuff: he sent his sister and her girlfriend. Funny really, Misha had always liked me, but now she was the one giving me dirty looks as she picked up his clothes off our bedroom floor. Cheyenne came over to my little bed-cave on the couch and wrapped an arm around me. She whispered things to me, but they didn't register. I got the general gist of it though; she was on my side. I remember laughing with her when Misha came in, very unimpressed as she threw a half empty box of condoms in the trash.
It was a good moment for me; it took me out of my little whole for a few hours. I sunk back down, though. God knows, I sunk.
I took time off work. I worked for my mother's company, anyway, so she knew that I needed time off, and work times were always flexible. An advantage of a family-owned business, I guess. It was indeed convienient.
I stayed in my home for two weeks. I found out a while after. It didn't feel like that. To me, it only felt like a couple days. A few of my friends got annoyed, and began to taunt me, saying it was childish of me to pine for him, but they didn't understand how significant he'd been in my life.
I think even my health began to deteriorate. I became anorexic, and my skin turned pale and pasty. I didn't open the curtains at all, and only moved from the couch to use the bathroom, or to drink some water. I didn't want to do anything anymore, but I made a promise to him, that I had to keep.

I awoke groggily and stretched from my frog position on the couch where I had drifted off, and glanced at the clock. It read 3:59. I groaned. Did I really hear the door?..

Another metallic buzz rang through my apartment, and I shuffled sleepily to the door.
"Who the hell?.."
I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
There was no answer, but the steady, heavy, breathing from my visitor. I slammed the phone down, scared to the bone. I began to shuffle back to my bed-cave, but I froze in shock when I heard heavy footfalls on the stairs outside my door. I turned slowly as I heard the key in the lock, and at that moment, as the door began to open, and I caught a flash of piercing blue, my heart stopped.

He stood, his chest heaving with the heavy breaths he was taking, and for a minute, I was scared he was going to yell. Instead, he rushed forward, and he tackled me to my bed-cave on the couch, pushing aside all the blankets and pillows I had surrounded myself in. He lay atop of me, gripping my face rather tighter than he usually would have done, but I revelled in it. It was the first contact I'd had with someone – anyone – in over two weeks.
Needless to say, I gasped at the contact, my hands moving up to push him away only to have my wrists caught in a tight grip, lips moving against mine insistently until my mouth was finally pried open, a teasing tongue pushing its way past my teeth and prompting mine to participate.
Our clothes seemed to become irritating to him, but I barely noticed as he ripped the fabrics off. My mind was spinning memories of that night over and over in my head. I turned my head to break the kiss, to say something, but he stopped me with a soft shh.
He began to move down from my lips, leaving a heated trail of wet kisses down the pale column of my throat, leaving me moaning softly as his lips made contact with my breast, I felt his other hand snake around me and grip the other one tightly, and he looked up, his lips smirking around the mouthful of soft skin.
I didn't hesitate to reciprocate when the hardness of his body found the soft folds of mine. We worked together in the act of making love, and when I couldn't bear it anymore, I bit my lip, nails dragging brutally down his back as I arched up into the pleasure that was building in my body.
I felt him moan, and his body shuddered against mine, and a certain warmness inside alerted me to the fact that it was over. He lifted me with his strong arms and put me ontop of him, and as I lay on his bare chest, his eyes began to droop, and he fell asleep within seconds. I followed suit, and slept soundly, minus the nightmares. I woke around an hour later, and despite myself, I broke into his beautiful dreams, just long enough to whisper: "Please don't leave."
His eyelids fluttered, and his brow furrowed in a frown. There was an agonizing silence, before he nodded and began to snore again. I was worried, but soon fell back asleep, happy to be in his arms, where I felt warm and safe.

I was cold when I woke up properly, and I couldn't even bring the strength to open my eyes for a good while, but when I finally did, all that registered was that he was no longer underneath me. My eyes began to water and I soon dissolved into body-racking sobs, until soon, I felt strong arms around me, and the fresh scent of shampoo. I felt lips against my forehead, and strong, soft fingers stroking my shoulder reassuringly.

And as I looked up into those calm, blue eyes, I felt my spirit soar, and for the second time, he saved my life.