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English
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Published:
2022-01-03
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751
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169

I want

Summary:

This was written whilst waiting for The Gentlemen to hit netflix and cause I've had a rough few days. Its not been edited and I don't even know what the fuck to think of it.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It was weird really.
I mean I don't know what we had.
I don't know how he thinks of me, how to think of him, how to think of this fucked relationship that makes me want to rip my hair out.

But I wanted him.
I wanted this.
I wanted to be able to hold his hands in mine, run my fingers over all of the marks, to fiddle with his nails as he looked at my face.
I didn't know how to describe it-that feeling- and I still don't. All I know is that I want it again.

I want to be able to hold him, to sit on his lap and have him pliable beneath my hands, shirtless and so I can see all of him. I think on it constantly. It wasn't cuddling, that word doesn't describe what I desired, I didn't want to spoon under the covers, though that sounded good as well, I wanted to make him....know, to know just how much I cared for him. I wanted to be allowed the light touches that made his skin twitch as my fingers dusted over it so softly it just left a tingle in its wake.

I didn't want the sex, though it sure would be a bonus, I wanted to feel whole, to have someone I know isn't going to tell me to fuck off cause I gave them a hug. I want the mutual affection, I want the way his hands surround my waist, holding me and hiding me from the pain and angst of the outside.

I want to make sure that he knows that I wont ever be worried about how dirty or clean he is, on the inside or out, just knowing him makes me happy so he should know that. He should know the joy he brings me, the way his looks make me shiver and keen as I can just feel the pure love in his gaze.
I want him to know that I don't know how that feels.
I want him to respect that there are certain feelings I don't know, that I can't put an emotion to, and never have been able.
Love

Hate

Trust

 

I don't want to show him how broken and confusing and complicated I am. How when I think on those things....... things others spoke of so easily, things I spoke of so easily, words that slipped into my vocabulary despite not having a reference for what they meant.

 

I wanted the kisses he gave me. The soft way his lips opened just slightly right before they joined mine, the way he put his whole body into the movement, rising and falling, rising and falling, in the same pattern as his steady heart rate, no where near the erratic beat mine took the moment we touched. I wanted his warmth, the way he seemed to radiated heat even when all I could feel was the cold.

 

I wanted to love him.
And I should. Cause he did all the things that I wanted. He loved me like I'd never even fucking know, so much that the glimpses I caught in those gazes didn't even do it justice. I wanted to understand that feeling so much, the same way I could understand everyone else's pain.
But I just couldn't.

 

I didn't want to feel like I was lying every time I told him I loved him.
I didn't want him to look at me like he knew I was lying. Like he didn't believe me. Like he didn't believe that he could be loved. I didn't want him to know that truth about all this, cause it made it hurt so bad.

 

People always say that you can't describe love, that you only know it when you feel it, but that doesn't help when it feels like you love everyone that you come across, when you don't even know what its opposite, the thing that would define it, feels like. When the closest you'd felt to feeling either was your own mother, when you felt both for the same person, cause it felt like she left you for the damn fucking alcohol.

I wanted to feel.......something as I kissed him, some emotion, some feeling, some god damned thing that made me feel less fucking numb, that made me feel less like it was all a god damned fucking act.

And that's the truth.

 

And that's the truth that will send me to Hell.

Notes:

Ok so this is kinda just a fucking journal entry. I wrote this thinking of Charlie Hunnam is any one of his different characters. I've had a rough few days and I had a good old cry last night, and so as I was waiting for the clock to tick down till The Gentlemen was on Netflix, I decided to write it out a bit.
I'm gonna explain myself a bit.
So I've got some pretty fucked physical boundaries, and I'm still young and not experienced enough to be able to compare how certain scenarios actually felt, which doesn't help. I've recently been watching SOA which sparked up a story in my head that made me think over all of this. And like I said, its been a rough couple days, and with a past as fucked as mine (mysterious I know but if I decided to write out my entire life story in all the details I know, it would be longer than the bloody bible) rough days tend to mean the past has be brought to the forefront of my mind.
I got the news recently that a woman who I've considered something of a mother for most of my life, well her injury might just get he paralysed, and there ain't anything I can really do to stop that other than being there for her and doing all of the strenuous tasks. Well all of that is bring back memories of how I dealt with losing my actual mother.

Anyway, I just thought I'd explain part of why this thing is so vague. It's confusing cause I am, and I write how I think, which is how I ramble. You'll notice that a lot of my works have dark or angsty themes, and that's cause I write from my own experiences and what my very strong empathy and imagination allow me to be able understand. I write from my trauma, and you can very much see that in this work.
Sorry about how weird this all is, just though I'd explain a little.