Road Trip
While she lays waitin’
I ask myself; ‘Why do I hurt her so?’
What calls me on along this lonely road?
While she lays cryin’
Because she knows my heart is ripped in two
I’m torn between the things that I should do
She deserves it all
And I’d give it if I could …
***
Midnight.
It seemed … the right time, almost as if the hour had crept in, waiting for him. Now it was leading him by the hand and telling him it was time.
Logan’s feet moved soundlessly across the floorboards of their room, practiced movements carrying him like a cat to the wardrobe and back. Shirt. Jeans. Spare jacket. He left the rest, that he had seemed to slowly be moving in over time, because he wasn’t running away. At least, that was what he told himself when he pressed a finger on top of the zip of the rucksack to muffle the noise of it as it slid closed. Surely it wasn’t running away if you intended to come back?
No. Not running away. But he wasn’t going to deny that there was a fear there. Something inside of him, the beast clawing to the surface, demanding the road. Open spaces, the smell of the wilderness, the constant noise of something hitting the gravel or the dirt or the tarmac … whatever that something was, bike, jeep, feet running … it didn’t matter. Movement. Now.
There was a side of him that she couldn’t see. Sheer animal. Nobody could see. Kurt had glimpsed it once, bearing down on him with teeth at his throat. He had frozen. There had been a hunted look in his eyes. Prey. Couldn’t do that to Abby. His girl. Sweet, beautiful angel of mercy, would that she could heal this hurt and save them both the pain of separation.
Just for a little while, I promise. If I stay you won’t want me. Won’t want us. The touch … you’ll want it gone. Every time you see my eyes you’ll be reminded of what I did, could have done, would have done … could still do. This is for you. For what we have. Just for a little while, my darlin’. Just for a while. Then you can want me again.
He slid on his jacket, thick against the cold outside. Summer had taken a night off but it was fine. It was never meant to be sunsets and roses for him. His life was never supposed to be light and free. Out. Out. Now.
Beautiful. My girl is beautiful. The thought slid through his conscious mind and he realised how hard this was going to be. How the urge to turn back, come home, never leave would rip through him the second that he started the bike at the end of the road, far out of hearing distance. How maybe the feelings would take over and he’d start the bike right outside so someone could wake up and talk him back. But not even Kurt could do that.
Now. Fingers brushed over her cheek. Sleep tight my beautiful darlin’. Sleep on. I’m going. You’re safe. Sleep on. He placed the barest of kisses to her forehead. Not goodbye - just ‘see you soon’ … please.
Carefully Logan fished into is pocket and slipped the parcel onto the bedside table. Some ridiculous teddy bear he’d found. It was named Logan. He’d gotten it days ago and kept meaning to give it to her but there never seemed a right time. The box, smaller than the palm of her hand, square with soft edges, velvet, went down next to it. Then the note.
The note. Footsteps. The bike. Walking to the end of the drive. The note. Starting the bike. Feeling the wind in his hair. The note. On his face. The note. Movement. Marry me. The sea air. Marry me. Leaving home behind. Marry me.
I ask myself; ‘Why do I hurt her so?’
What calls me on along this lonely road?
While she lays cryin’
Because she knows my heart is ripped in two
I’m torn between the things that I should do
She deserves it all
And I’d give it if I could …
***
Midnight.
It seemed … the right time, almost as if the hour had crept in, waiting for him. Now it was leading him by the hand and telling him it was time.
Logan’s feet moved soundlessly across the floorboards of their room, practiced movements carrying him like a cat to the wardrobe and back. Shirt. Jeans. Spare jacket. He left the rest, that he had seemed to slowly be moving in over time, because he wasn’t running away. At least, that was what he told himself when he pressed a finger on top of the zip of the rucksack to muffle the noise of it as it slid closed. Surely it wasn’t running away if you intended to come back?
No. Not running away. But he wasn’t going to deny that there was a fear there. Something inside of him, the beast clawing to the surface, demanding the road. Open spaces, the smell of the wilderness, the constant noise of something hitting the gravel or the dirt or the tarmac … whatever that something was, bike, jeep, feet running … it didn’t matter. Movement. Now.
There was a side of him that she couldn’t see. Sheer animal. Nobody could see. Kurt had glimpsed it once, bearing down on him with teeth at his throat. He had frozen. There had been a hunted look in his eyes. Prey. Couldn’t do that to Abby. His girl. Sweet, beautiful angel of mercy, would that she could heal this hurt and save them both the pain of separation.
Just for a little while, I promise. If I stay you won’t want me. Won’t want us. The touch … you’ll want it gone. Every time you see my eyes you’ll be reminded of what I did, could have done, would have done … could still do. This is for you. For what we have. Just for a little while, my darlin’. Just for a while. Then you can want me again.
He slid on his jacket, thick against the cold outside. Summer had taken a night off but it was fine. It was never meant to be sunsets and roses for him. His life was never supposed to be light and free. Out. Out. Now.
Beautiful. My girl is beautiful. The thought slid through his conscious mind and he realised how hard this was going to be. How the urge to turn back, come home, never leave would rip through him the second that he started the bike at the end of the road, far out of hearing distance. How maybe the feelings would take over and he’d start the bike right outside so someone could wake up and talk him back. But not even Kurt could do that.
Now. Fingers brushed over her cheek. Sleep tight my beautiful darlin’. Sleep on. I’m going. You’re safe. Sleep on. He placed the barest of kisses to her forehead. Not goodbye - just ‘see you soon’ … please.
Carefully Logan fished into is pocket and slipped the parcel onto the bedside table. Some ridiculous teddy bear he’d found. It was named Logan. He’d gotten it days ago and kept meaning to give it to her but there never seemed a right time. The box, smaller than the palm of her hand, square with soft edges, velvet, went down next to it. Then the note.
The note. Footsteps. The bike. Walking to the end of the drive. The note. Starting the bike. Feeling the wind in his hair. The note. On his face. The note. Movement. Marry me. The sea air. Marry me. Leaving home behind. Marry me.