The first birthday away from home was the hardest.
He'd finally found shelter after so long, it coming with his work,
which he considered tolerable enough currently as it didn't
exploit talents he didn't have-- resulting in him comfortably
being able to produce without too much pressure being put
on him. However, as the job didn't pay enough money to him,
he was unable to buy any sort of gift to himself.
Instead he laid on his mattress, it ridden by damage until the point
that it was difficult to believe anyone could sleep there. A messy
sheet was all that was supposed to cover his body, but it barely
could do so accurately, it too filled with holes that allowed the cold
to creep under its body.
Within the grip of his fingers was his blanket, one of the few items he'd managed to rescue before he was thrown out of his own household, it always having been in his pocket. He was overly attached to it, and it may appear silly or childish to many others, but it was the only proof to him that his mother at some point cared about him-- and that she'd tried to express that in a way mothers only could do. He remembered the many times he was terrified and his mother was busy and thus him having had to use the blanket as a temporary lifesaver, as if it were to protect him from the monsters he'd made up, those that crawled out of the dark to snatch him away from his loved home.
That idea became a lot less frightening when he realised none of them loved them as
much as they did his siblings.
He wasn't worth it all. Every birthday was the same. He got the gifts, maybe a kiss, and they'd move on. Only twice in his life after his sixth birthday they'd cared enough to throw him a party, to truly bring him happiness through obvious love and care. Money wasn't something he particularly cared about, nor gifts themselves, but the energy they'd put into the things they were willing to do for him. Because that was a true sign of love.
So there he was, staring at the slightly discoloured blanket within his hands, tears prickling his eyes. He wished he had the chance to say how he felt, to rectify it all-- if he had to accept his birth name, so be it. Anything and everything was better than this bitter, desperate loneliness that bothered him so vividly. He was too exhausted to even move a few strands of hair the blocked his sight, him having barely slept as he wept in his bed at 2 am because that was the time where his heart caved in and all his insecurities devoured his mind.
How he wished there was someone to care about him.
To grant him all the affection he'd missed, that he genuinely deserved;
to grant him some happiness, even if his mind blamed all his misery on him
and told him that what he desired was far above his worth despite him knowing
that wasn't the case.
And so he sobbed and he sobbed until a mix of saliva and salty tears ruined his pretty visage, one people had complimented due to his girlish beauty, them never considering he might just not be a woman. Because the world was that cruel. With his sleeve he wiped it away, praying that walking out of this room wouldn't result in him being questioned, although it was plain to see he wasn't alright. Curling up on the mattress, he tried to ignore the upcoming headache, instead attempting to focus on drifting off.
Today he would sleep away; there was nothing for him in reality but sorrow.
He wasn't sure how he'd got here, but he was well aware
leaving was impossible as the other cried on his knees on
the ice cold floor in front of him, all of it seeming to having
gone so fast that he had no idea if he could actually
appropriately time his responses.
His heart was stuck almost, just like there was a lock put on it the second he saw tears streaming down his lover's face, he hadn't seen him like this in literal years so his body wasn't adjusted to being exposed to genuine sorrow from him and thus it simply froze. It changing felt impossible, but it already had, so when his own knees hit the floor the first thing he felt was a shiver going down his spine, and not necessarily out of the cold but because how he did this willingly, getting on his knees because he chose to and not because the other had some kind of surprise for him. Humiliation was always present in the past, but this time it was a sign of care.
And he saw how the other appeared to find interest in the drugs that ran the economy of the city by now and turning its citizens into mindless monsters, he saw how he almost reached for it in order to return the habit that had destroyed their previous relationship entirely and left his heart shattered to pieces and had him stomping on it as if he had any right to. He had no idea how badly it had destroyed it all, but he supposed he understood. He always understood.
Was this the prince he deserved? Was he even a prince at all?
He wasn't a prince. He wasn't a prince, he was
n't a prince he wasn't a prince he wasn't a prin
ce he wasn't a prince he was supposed to be
his prince but he fucked up not that far into the
ir relationship. And it hurt to realise that.
He shot out of his earlier state where his movements simply did not come into action, instead gentle fingers wrapping around the beautiful, smooth skin that Jack possessed, a small breath being released from Atlas' lungs as he shuffled closer to him, hearing the sobs come from the other and a certain amount of guilt burying itself in his stomach like it were there to curse him for the rest of the evening. "Hey, sweetheart..", he whispered under his breath, slowly allowing their foreheads to connect through soft touches, ".. it's all okay. You're gonna be okay." He wasn't sure of how this all had escalated to leave him in tears but he was sure he didn't deserve to stick a needle in his arm again.
A small kiss was placed on Jack's cheek, it nothing but a gentle brush of lips against skin, but still a significant gesture he could pull in a situation that usually had him paralyzed out of sheer confusion. He tried, truly. Just for Jack. Even if it meant shoving aside the usual feeling of disgust that came with seeing the other's face that he most likely would not rid himself of, he managed to boost the affection that had settled itself in his heart way before the abuse took place.
"Breathe in slow, darlin'. Slowly, gradually, an' calm yerself down . Don't make any decisions that you'll regret later--- that'll make y' fall back into this state any earlier than ye're s'posed to, than fate tells y' to." He spoke from his heart, words flowing out of his mouth like he were experiencing it himself, something he had indeed fought in himself. It was a war against the strongest emotions one held, and he knew that he needed specific treatment. His hands moved up to his wrists, putting them together, making them touch and moving them toward his mouth-- placing a gentle peck on his knuckles on both hands. He gazed up to the boy's face, a sorrowful smile placing itself on his features.
Hands let go of his wrists, instead his arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I love you very much, alright? An' y' deserve t' feel a lot better." A single hand traced the patterns on Jack's neck, then moved upward to allow a hand to stroke through his hair. "'cause ye're a wonderful person." Despite the horror that he'd brought to him, he spoke the truth. He loved him and he adored him.
Eyes gazed at their own reflection in the mirror in front of him, the way the sun shone through the curtains behind him making it all seem a lot more magical than it was and it truly influences his mood in a positive manner, his heart racing as skin touches the cold glass of the mirror, leaving small fingerprints on its shining surface like love markings on another person. The other hand was placed under belly button, on top of his obviously swollen stomach, the fabric of his dress perfectly wrapping itself around his waist as if it were meant to be and even if it wasn't as decorative it certainly made him feel beautiful.
Stepping away from the mirror itself, he allowed his now free hand to be placed on his back, adrenaline rushing through his body and his smile almost impossible to break as well as his spirit being so high that there was no way of bringing him down-- he was in heaven, this was literally all he'd dreamed of, a family to come and a husband that he loved so dearly and was sure was would never stop loving either. They didn't precisely have a crew to help them slip in to their outfits, so all they had was two tiny separate rooms and if he were honest Atlas did not mind at all. It made them feel closer, even if that was a silly idea.
So when he finally was done with fawning over himself, over the very fact that his dreams were coming true, this time without a receipt as if it were about to expire and ready to be brought back, this time as genuine as could be and that thought motivated him. As he fixed some last issues he made his way to the door, these high heels absolutely daring in regard to the strain on his back but he'd definitely be able to hold it for a few hours, after that his new future beginning with joy and a lot of expectations.
But no matter what might happen-- he was prepared. Prepared for the love, prepared for the hours of crying and the many times he'd stand up just because he wanted to feel Dan's familiar arms around his waist and the many times he'd wear different sets of clothing just to appeal to his gaze. He cared not for the effort he had to put into their marriage, into their relationship-- into their family, he was willing to do everything to keep it together, to have it fixed like it were a car with infinite possibilities and infinite roads available and him having the right tools, him simply having to recognise the core of its issues in order to rectify it.
He accepted its responsibility fully, and with that realisation, he stepped out of the door, making his way to the ceremony.
Fingers trace over my skin and I
fear it's the last time that my dignity
remains as he has all authority to
rip away anything and everything
that held me together, preventing
me from falling to pieces right in
front of him and it hurts to know
that no matter how resistant I am
he can just overpower me like
that ---
I shiver as I realise that he's standing there but not moving
as if he's waiting for something to happen that will make him
break that position; I feel a certain pressure being laid upon
me as if it's my responsibility to do anything, the empty gaze
he's aiming at me making it uncomfortable for the both of us
but I know he sees me as a fuckable shell rather than who
I am as a person but it matters not as I fear he betrays my
secrets to the open and plays with my heart as if it's an
instrument-----
"Am I lovable?" I ask under my breath and I receive no answer
because he's too busy with checking if the tears are already present
on his face, eventually a low "no" spilling from his pale lips as if it
had no meaning whatsoever, my heart returns to being a void without
its stars----
Our gazes meet and I'm not sure what part is the drugs
anymore and who is Jack because there's so little of him
left in that glowing vessel of his that I can barely call him
by his actual name as it no longer fits him, the kindness
that came with the name Jack is gone and it hurts me to
realise that but he doesn't seem to mind, no, he cares as
much as I'd expected him to but it still aches to think about----
He's stopped calling me by my name and I repeat it to myself every
day but I know it's slowly withering away because the familiar tone
of it needs to be repeated, it isn't but I can't go begging to him about
it because he cares zero. Even if I tried to convince him he'd just
laugh and laugh and call me another nickname. Almost as if he forgot
himself.
I am Atlas and I am worth more than the treatment I get, even if sometimes even I
cannot believe it because I love this man with my whole heart and it tends to accept
it all as healthy because it's the only time it's genuinely loved. A flow I cannot escape
from and my heart plain refuses to do in fear of rejection, despite it being obvious he
never accepted me in the first place.
He calls me the foulest of names and I just let them slide by because
the grin he shows is precious to me in a way I cannot describe, like
the bright colours poisonous flowers often show.
I am Atlas and my name is fading among the people as I am a mere slave of love
in a way everyone would condemn to their worst nightmare. Displayed like a trophy
that is meant to do nothing but make people jealous instead of being loved and cherished
as I am considered lesser than human due to the ADAM twisted mind of my lover.
I am strong for tolerating this. I am not worth his judgement or his opinion, I am
worth just as much as him. I am my own person, not property, worth more than
a title just like this and I need to realise it before he rips it from my heart like it
were a pin.
