Work Text:
After hurting someone who loves you, wouldn’t it make sense that love transforms into hate?
I don’t understand Selene. Why, after all I’ve done, does she not despise me? She only loved the part of me that I was willing to show others. The plastic smile I adorn my face with, my grades, my performance in university. She must have only fallen in love with that part of me, right?
Love is what defines a person. Love is what forms them, what molds them. Love made her to be the way she is. That is what I loved about her. So carefree, so beautiful, so pure.
That’s why… I wanted to dissect her, to take her apart and peer into what she was made of. Make her be a part of me, as much as I will be a part of her. I wouldn’t mind dirtying her in the process. Perhaps I am the filth. The dirt that stains the perfect white snow.
But I don’t want the same to be done to me. I don’t want anyone to know that behind all of this is a hollow shell. That I am a person with nary a life. I might as well be dead.
When she said we should date, dread filled my body. Not the violent kind of dread that makes you recoil in fear and run for your life. But the one that brews slowly, like a poison in a well. She drinks from it, bit by bit. I didn’t want to see such a thing continue.
“We are incompatible.”
Such cruel words came out of my mouth, but incompatible means that compatibility is a thing, too. So who would be compatible with me? Is there someone out there who is truly ideal for me? Someone willing to be hot and cold?
No. Despite all the different, perfect faces I showed to the world, Selene was the only person in the world who showed more than a moment of interest behind my facade, and I threw her away and hurt her.
There is no reason for her to continue loving me, after all that.
But she is here, right now, on my bedside. Snoring lightly, breathing in and out, her eyelids flicker in a dream. The lights of Ocean City glimmer in her eyelashes.
When I think about what I’ve done to her, my heart aches. Isn’t it unfair that I am the one who controls the emotions that entail in our relationship? I hurt her, but she can’t ever hurt me. Not willingly. Nothing she can say to me, or do to me, will ever break me the way I can break her. The only way I can be pained is by my own actions, my own jealousy.
I am so jealous of all that she has.
I cup my hand around her cheek, tender as I can be. I don’t want to wake her up, but at the same time I do.
I wish you can see inside me. I wish you can see how hollow I am, and how much I want you to fill in that part of me that’s always been empty. Teach me how to live. How to love. I know nothing about this. Only what I’ve seen from others, but never felt myself. Isn’t that disgusting? Would you hate me? Would you tell me that? Would you leave me again?
I wish you could hurt me too, even for a little.
Her eyes open, ever slowly.
“Iris…”
She mumbles. I’ve messed up. Her eyes were foggy for a moment before she recognized that she’s no longer dreaming.
And then she smiles.
Despite all I’ve done to her, she’s able to smile at me. I want to tell her everything. How much I want her to hurt me.
But no words came out of my mouth. I lowered my face and pressed it against her neck. She hums a little, maybe in surprise.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”