A cold heart is a dead heart... (villemine) wrote in dico_raab_love,
A cold heart is a dead heart...

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Six Weeks

Title: Six Weeks [one-shot]
Author: villemine
Pairing: RaabxDico, RaabxBam
Rating: I have no idea...
Summary: I wish I'd never listened to you. He left me because of you.
Notes: This is my first time posting here, and my first Raco story. Comments are like candy... they tempt you and make you happy.

He said, "We can't do this anymore" but I felt like he was lying. I wanted to call him on it, but I didn't want to push him away. It was nothing but pain and sorrow from there on out. It was nothing I couldn't handle. I didn't want to believe that anything between us could be the end of all things around us. That everything we ever had was a lie. You know?

Maybe it's a silly fantasy. Thinking that everything you could ever have or want could be right there and not. Everywhere and nowhere... sinking in the pit of despair beneath our never-ending dreams. It's foolish and selfish and everything that nobody wants to be. I'm everything people hate, but I thought I'd found someone to love me.

He said, "It's over between us now" and he walked out, slamming the door behind him. I wanted to believe the lie so badly that I almost convinced myself that he'd be back.

He didn't come back.

Six weeks later, I'm still sitting here on my living room floor. Sitting with the guilt and sin.

Six weeks later, I'm still waiting, searching for my answers and the one person who will love me for me.

Six weeks later, and I'm wondering if anyone is even missing me. If anyone even notices I'm gone.

Six weeks later, I haven't moved an inch. I'm still laying where he left me. Cold and all alone.

Six weeks later... I'm still missing him.

Six fucking weeks, and I'm lonely and broken, waiting for my knight in shining armour to come and rescue me from this pit of despair I've let you throw me in. You have no idea how much I love him. How much I need him or want to be with him.

No idea how much I let you hurt me to make sure that he was happy.

Six weeks ago, I let you touch me in a way you never had before.

Six weeks ago, I let you hurt me like it had never happened before.

Six weeks ago, you ripped me to shreds with your words and your actions and left me lying, bleeding.

When you told me you loved me, I never knew it was a lie. When you reached around to touch me, I never thought to ask you "why?" When you ignored my screams and tears and blood, I never wondered how it was possible. When I begged you to stop and you refused... I still loved you.

When you told me "You're beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you." I never thought you meant it literal.

When you told me "I'll always be there for you." I thought that was true.

When you told me "I'm doing this because I love you," even though I cried and screamed at you to not... I thought that that was true love.

But when you told me that "Nobody will ever love you the way that I do." I wish I had never listened. I wish I'd made you shut up long before those word ever crossed your lips, because he's gone because of you. He left me because of you. Because I let you come close to me.

He said, "I want to help you but you have to let me in" and I did. I let him in and he ran away.

He said, "I'll take care of you" and I trusted that he would. Only, he left, and you came back.

He said, "I'll never let him touch you again" but he lied.

He said, "I'll never let him hurt you again" but he all but handed me over to you.

He said, "I love you, Chris Raab"... That was the night that I died.

I often wonder, if after I told him, he ran off to confront you, and you killed him. Maybe he went up to you, and you two had a good laugh. Perhaps he went to you and told you where I was, or that I was waiting... but it's not like him to do something like that.

That night when you whispered to me "I know." What did you know?

When you held me down and stripped off my clothes, was he watching? Were you smiling at my pain? Were you two sharing a good joke at poor, little drunken Raab's expense? Or was he silently screaming because he couldn't be there to help which ever one of us he was going to help?

I remembered that you said, "We'll be best friends forever," and I wonder, were you drunk? Or was this what you meant when you said that?

"You're my reason for living," was almost your goal in life. Did you always plan on killing your reason? Was this your form of suicide?

You said that he and I were "meant to be together." That we were "perfect for each other." You said it with a smile, and offered to set us up.

Everything was your doing, and probably in your plan. If you had one, that is.

Perhaps this was "spur of the moment" stuff. It sure caught me off guard.

The one night I decide to not go drinking, is the night you get shit-faced drunk.

The one night I stay home to wallow in my sorrows, of which I blamed you, you decide to come over.

The one night I pushed away your drunken advances, you force yourself on-top of me.

The one night he figures he doesn't want me anymore, you decide you want me enough for the three of us.

And I'm not going to lie to you; it hurt. It hurt like hell. Like I was being torn apart from the inside out, and that I was going to pass out from the spots exploding behind my eyes.

Whatever possessed you to get up and leave when you were finished, I wished I had in me to at least have the decency to clean myself up and put on some clothes.

You told me as you left, "Dico never wanted you anyway... This was all just a game." And you said it with a grin that was full of condescending laughter.

I know that you're lying.

I hope that you're drunk enough to be unable to lie.

I don't want it to be true, but...

It all seems too convenient. Too planned out, too sure.

I only wanted him to want me just as much, but he hasn't come by in six weeks, and I want to be off this blood-stained floor.

He hasn't come by or called to say "hi", and not one of my "friends" has dropped in to say "hey, haven't heard from you in awhile... just wanted to see if you were ok", and I want to know if you know. If you remember what you've done, or if you let yourself push it to the back of your mind. I just want it all to be over.

I want to move on.

Six weeks ago, he left my life, you ruined my life, and I left it behind.

Six weeks ago, I was happy, I was sad, and I was over.

Six weeks ago, I died, and no one knows or cares why.

Six weeks ago, someone saw me for the last time.

Six weeks ago, I didn't even get to say goodbye...
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