Sweeter Love, by Kay

Sweeter Love
by Kay

You left me alone this morning, alone in our bed. The bed where we've made love so many times, where I've told you time and time again how much I love you, where you've said the same to me. And you meant it, I know you did. Do? I'm not really sure right now.

Because you didn't leave me to go to work or to make scrambled eggs or to take a shower. You left me to go to her, even after I asked you--no, begged you--not to. I suppose I should have expected it, and in a way, I did. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone "to take a shower" last night so that I could cry without you knowing it. I wouldn't have stayed awake all night so that I could imprint into my memory how you looked and felt in my arms, how you made me feel complete, as cheesy as it sounds. I wouldn't have pretended to be asleep when you slid out of bed oh-so-quietly and brushed a kiss across my forehead before you left this morning.

I suppose I've been expecting this for quite some time. By "this" I don't even mean this particular situation; I could just tell that no matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't be with you forever. The further we got away from the perfect bubble in time that was New Zealand, the more I saw you slipping away, out of my arms and to something or someone else. And I've wanted so desperately to stop it, to keep you, but I just can't do that to you. After all, you're only 21. I suppose you need time to figure things out for yourself.

Because maybe you don't know what I want. You don't understand your own place in life, much less the place I would have you take in mine. I want you, and I want forever with you, but I understand that you're not ready yet. That doesn't keep me from wishing that you were, though, that you weren't putting me through all this shit, inadvertently or not. I know that no matter how much you love me, you can't be with me. Not now.

See, whether you know it or not, you're still shielding yourself, hiding not only from the world, but also from me. You manage to manipulate your image into a deceptively simple one, and even with how intimately we know each other, I still don't really know you inside. You're a maze in there, all dead ends and booby traps. You're not ready to be vulnerable to even the one person who loves you more than anyone else, much less to let that vulnerability be known to everyone else. So despite that innocent, simple image you manage to convey, there's nothing simple about you.

I should know, too. Even before we became anything more than friends, I'd been watching you for months. Something about you drew my attention, and I had this insatiable thirst to understand who was staring out through those pure, ethereal eyes. My eyes would follow your every move, monitor each smile, record every flash of real emotion, notice any time you'd tap your foot or run a hand through your hair. I memorized your body and mannerisms. I could predict when you'd blush in embarrassment, raise an eyebrow in skepticism, purse your lips in concentration, narrow your eyes in anger, curl a lip in disgust...but I still can't understand you because you don't want to let me in.

I've been trying to deny that fact for months, thinking that you would eventually open up to me. Naively perhaps, I thought that if I loved you enough, you might learn that you are worthy of love, no matter what you have locked up inside. But that same stubbornness that can be so adorable is like a fucking brick wall, and I recognize that now. It's not a matter of your inability to let me see you; it's unwillingness to do so.

"We" have been private up to this point. Though we had a few little slip-ups in the beginning, our relationship was completely platonic in public, or as close as we could get to it. So maybe I had a more difficult time keeping up appearances than you did, but maybe that's because I haven't had a lifetime worth of playing the role of "Dominic Monaghan, raging heterosexual actor". You're all about facades, though. It's the way you live your life, and it makes me wonder if I've ever, in the entire time I've known you, seen just you. Not Elijah Wood, actor, or Elwood, the prankster, or 'Lijah, the good little buddy; just Elijah, not all the permutations of who you think you should be depending upon the situation.

That angers me, and I think it's a justifiable reaction. I'm not going to hide the fact that I'm angry at you, not anymore. You'll probably be surprised; after all, I've let you have your way for far too long. In fact, I've been conforming my life to the way you live yours, becoming more and more like closed-off Elijah Wood, and less and less "Dom." You've begun to take my acquiescence for granted, thinking that I'll be willing to live this way for as long as you want. And yes, it's partially my fault, I admit it.

But it's because I love you. I love you in that all-encompassing, rapturous, devoted way, the kind of love that has blinded me to reason, to the outside world, to myself. I've given freely of myself, offering everything in and of me without a second thought. You made me feel light, treasured, and beautiful--like a blown glass, irridescent Christmas ornament. But I'm sick of being some kind of seasonal trinket that can be admired and flaunted for a certain audience for a particular amount of time before I'm hidden away and "protected" from the world. In your keeping, I've let my perception be skewed, because I wanted to believe you, wanted to be with you always, no matter what. It's the sweetest kind of love. But it's also the most dangerous, because it's led me to unintentionally hurt myself for far too long.

The entire time I was watching you, learning you, and loving you, I lost sight of myself. I didn't notice that I was hurtling headfirst and willingly toward the edge of ruin, trusting that you wouldn't let me fall. You would be my knight in shining armor, who would never let any evil befall me. It sounds melodramatic, but perhaps I failed to notice the possibility that you might have been the villain all along.

No matter. I don't believe in fairy tales anymore. It was no kind of dramatic, romantic quest to keep "us" a secret. It was a scared, selfish decision you made to protect yourself. The idea has been in the back of my mind for some time, but I didn't admit it to myself until today, when I followed you and saw you with her.

You're so good at playing roles, Elijah. I could almost believe that you were making a public display with her to satisfy PR, to squelch those pesky little rumors that have popped up despite our caution. But just watching you, I could tell that this was for your own personal benefit, not just a ploy to placate your publicist. You're not ready to face those rumors, to be yourself in front of the entire world. I'm beginning to doubt that you ever will be.

You know, right now I really can't believe that it took me so long to realize what was going on. Of course, I can't entirely blame myself. After all, you're very talented at what you do. If you could lead the press and fans around on a leash, what difference would one more person make?

Except that it should have been different with me. You could have come clean with me, trusted me to know what you were doing and love you all the more for it, not despite it. I've always been completely open to you, never even considering the prospect of self-defense. I truly didn't think you'd ever hurt me; hell, I didn't believe you *could* hurt me. But I see now that I gave you far too much power.

I can't do this any longer. I won't do this any longer. As much as I love you, I can't let you have your way anymore. Or maybe it's because I love you that I'm going to make sure that you can't live your life behind a mask and still get everything you want. No, I'm not going to out you or anything; that would be a cruel and spiteful thing to do. But I won't be your accomplice. You want people to believe that you're straight? You want them to believe that we're nothing more than friends? Fine. I can do that. Just not like this. You can't have it both ways, Elijah, with me hidden off to the side and the public you in the forefront. If you really feel that your image is more important than our happiness, I'm not going to stop you. I'm just going to leave you.

Hard to believe, isn't it? Heck, I wouldn't have expected it even yesterday. But after I saw you kissing her today, acting for all the world like you hadn't just left me alone in our bed, I realized that I have to look out for myself. You're sure as hell not going to do it. I refuse to wait for the day when you tire of the baggage that goes along with me, the day when you toss the pretty glass ornament to the floor and watch it break. I'm making a pre-emptive strike. You can't be selfish and keep me this way, Elijah, just like I can't be selfish and take you any way that I can. It's ruining both of us. However, I can promise this: I won't go without your acceptance. I need you to set me free. Closure, I guess.

So I pick up the phone, noticing the way I've twisted the cord all out of shape. I start to dial with an unsteady hand, recognizing just how much you've influenced me. My fingernails are bitten almost to the quick, a habit I picked up from you. They'll grow back soon enough, but my memories will never go away. Who knows? Maybe someday you'll be ready. I don't know that I'll still be waiting for you, but I know I'll never stop loving you.

Your phone is ringing now. It's going to break both our hearts, but please, Elijah. Set me free.

END.

A/N: This fic is based upon the song "Sweeter Love" by Athenaeum. Lyrics:

I do not believe in fairy tales
I have bit off all my fingernails
I will never wash these sheets again
You know the ones you left me in

There's no sweeter love
There's no sweeter love
There's no sweeter love than mine
There's no sweeter love
So what are you thinking of?
There's no sweeter love than mine
And if you disagree
Set me free

I did not believe in self defense
'Till you crushed me like an ornament
When you hung me from your kissing tree
You flaunted me
You fucked with me

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Sweeter Love by Kay

Sweeter Love
by Kay