Title: This Thing Called Love
(It burst, like) soap bubbles.
It’s happiness. Until it isn’t.
It tastes bitter like (it burst, like) soap bubbles.
A very unpleasant surprise.
Their mouths open, expecting nothing but empty substance and air, cruelly shocked to find bitter results.
It is happiness. Until it isn’t.
Tim shoves, hard. “I don’t want this!” He doesn’t. He never did. With anyone, least of all Jason.
Jason lashes out. “And you think I do?” He doesn’t. He never did. With anyone, least of all Tim.
Their were surrounded by soap bubbles. Beautiful and gleaming, promising nothing but airy, empty, shallow, temporary happiness.
It was just sex.
They were promised nothing. Empty air. And that was good. How many times have they been promised fulfillment, only to be given a barren, stark, hollow, despair? Too many.
Tim kicks out, catching Jason in the stomach.
"This is all your fault!"
Jason grabs his foot and holds, jerking him forward and off balance.
"My fault? How the fuck is this my fault?"
Tim doesn’t know how. And Jason thinks that just maybe it is.
They were promised nothing. They promised nothing. It was supposed to be nothing. They didn’t want anything.
How did they get something?
It shouldn’t work.
It doesn’t work.
But they’re stuck in it and it isn’t fair.
Tim falls and drags Jason down with him, hands pulling at the man’s collar, their faces close. His eyes flash and he hisses, angry and betrayed and hurting.
"I don’t want to love you. You. Of all people. You.”
Jason snarls, eyes simmering, angry and wounded and fighting.
"Like you’re a catch yourself. You think I chose you?"
They crash together.
A mountain meeting a storm, tectonic plates, two armies, car to car, mouth to mouth. Teeth clicking, lips mashing, noses brushing, breath cutting short.
Tim hisses, whispers, snarls between bites and kisses and licks given in equal measure. “I hate that I love you. But I do. I hate love. I hate it. Period. But it’s you, and why has it always been you?”
Jason growls, snaps, grumbles between bites and kisses and licks given in equal measure. “Fuck you too, I hate it. Damn you to hell, you drive me the fuck insane. I hate you and everything that you’ve always been, but damn it, it was always you.”
They’re clawing at each other, now. Desperate in need for that shallowness. Trying to find the bottom.
An end to the love.
Trying to find a limit to it. A place where they can say ha, you don’t love me after all. They are horribly disappointed to find none.
They are stuck. It is endless.
Tim whimper-whines, “I was doing alright. I was ok again. And then you came in-“
Jason sob-snarls, “I managed without you. I didn’t need anything. And then you came in-“
Tim’s eyes clench shut as their lips mash together. Jason’s hands are brutal.
Jason’s eyes clench shut as their lips mash together. Tim’s hands are punishing.
They’ll never be free again.
(No more soap bubbles, no more freedom.
Just this horrible, beautiful, dangerous, painful thing-
This wretched torture that cleaves them in two. That strips them of their hard won autonomy and pride. That tears down the walls that they worshiped and relied on and assaults them with rebellion upon rebellion.
This thing that causes body, mind, soul, heart to betray. That causes logic to flee, emotions to collapse, and control to shatter.
This thing called love.)