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Argument. Noun. An exchange of diverging or opposite views; often heated and angry.
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“Do you not care about me? Am I nothing to you?”
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Shao Long’s teeth were bared, “This is my job. I didn’t have a choice then, and I do not have a choice now, what do you not understand?” His voice was raised to a shout at the end, his frame tense, dark eyes trained on Charles’s face.
“You think I don’t care about you?” Charles snapped back, “I’m doing this because I care too much. I don’t want to see you in distress every time you come back from work, I don’t want to see you sit in the cold shower for two hours because you blame yourself for something you didn’t do, I don’t want to see you cry in my arms when you think I’m asleep. It makes me feel helpless, knowing that I cannot intervene.”
“Then leave me alone. I can handle this myself. I’ve done that well enough before you stepped into my life, and I can do it again. I don’t need your pity.”
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Leon’s mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to say something but pulled back, words on the tip of his tongue, taken by surprise and by horror.
Shintarou’s fingers dug into the wood of his table. Pain. Pain is good. He shouldn’t have said that, that was a mistake. He is nothing, undeserving of love and affection and care and Leon deserves so much better than him because no matter how hard he tries he can never change an-
“Shintarou.”
Leon’s gaze was open. Comforting. Undeserved. It should be mockery, pity, contempt, hatred, not whatever this was, and Leon shouldn’t spend time on him, he’s a waste of effort, waste of time, his father says, can’t listen, can’t talk, can’t do anything righ-
“Look at me.”
He doesn’t want to look.
He looks.
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“Handle yourself? I found you at the edge of a 300 foot drop, curled into a ball and listing the pros and cons of suicide-“
“I was two months in, and had just killed a patient in the ER, so if you can just understan-“
“Understand what? All I see is my boyfriend going through the textbook symptoms of PTSD because of his part-time teenage job he took to appease his father, and despite my many protests has still decided to pursue it-“
“Maybe I should’ve jumped. It’ll have saved me this conversation.” Shao Long knew his words were too harsh, too biting, and far too bitter.
And by the look on Charles’s face, he knew that too.
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“You’re worth more than anything in this life, I care for you more than anything in this world, and you deserve everything I give you, ok?” Leon’s hands were warm on his, gently lifting them from the table. His eyes, in the light, were so brilliantly gold.
He’s lying. Shintarou doesn’t deserve him. Doesn’t deserve anything.
“I can hear you thinking. I’m not lying. You matter to your brother, you matter to your mother, you matter to me. You’re not just something in my life, you are my everything, do you understand?”
Shintarou understands. He doesn’t believe him.
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“Say that again.” Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, like a wolf stalking its prey.
“Should’ve. Jumped.” Shao Long stares right into its jaws, and lifts his chin.
Charles’s face darkened. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, like a wolf going for the kill.
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“Believe me. Please.”
Shintarou hesitates. Leon is even closer now, running his fingers over his reddened palm, soothing the skin.
He’s earnest, that, Shintarou can recognise. Maybe, just maybe, he’s truthful too.
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The kiss is messy, teeth against teeth, tongue against tongue, in no way graceful, but it’s gratifying nonetheless. Hands grip hair, Shao Long is pushed onto the bed, and the air is hot, heavy, and brimming with uncut tension.
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Leon’s smile is worth everything, the press of his lips against his temples, calming, and peaceful. Shintarou manages a faint flush, and Leon huffs a breath of fond amusement.
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Resolution. Noun. 1. The action of solving a problem or contentious matter. 2. The quality of being determined or resolute.