things you do for love ⌖⁺‧ ₊
stalker!ex-boyfriend!aerion x reader pt. 2
-18+, dark!modern!aerion, stalker!ex-boyfriend!aerion, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, domestic violence, physical abuse, murder, blood and gore, psychological horror, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, dead dove: do not eat!!! ᥫ᭡
he always seemed to be around.
not in a way you could easily prove, not in a way you could point to without sounding ridiculous, but enough that you started recognizing him in passing. at the corner store. near the bus stop where you waited with your headphones in and your keys looped around your fingers.
the first time you noticed aerion was at the corner store near your father's house. you'd been sent out for milk and bread, and he was leaning against the brick exterior, cigarette dangling from his lips, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
his eyes followed you as you approached.
"need help with that?" he'd asked, his voice gravelly as he gestured toward the paper bag threatening to tear in your arms.
"no, i've got it," you'd replied, trying to sound casual even as your heart hammered against your ribs.
he'd smirked, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke that seemed to frame his face. "suit yourself. just trying to be neighborly."
after that, you started seeing him everywhere. at first, you thought it was coincidence, but then you began to notice the pattern, the way he always seemed to know where you'd be, the way his eyes would find yours across a crowded room.
your father noticed too. "that boy's always hanging around," he'd grumbled one evening over dinner. "don't like the look of him. stay away from him, you hear?"
but you couldn't stay away. there was something magnetic about aerion, something that made your pulse quicken and your palms sweat. he was mean sometimes, his words cutting and sharp, but then he'd do something unexpectedly sweet-
the requests started small. "let me walk you home," he'd say, and you'd find yourself agreeing despite your father's warnings. then came the invitations to hang out, to grab a bite, to see a movie. each time, you'd hesitate, remembering your father's disapproval, but each time, you'd find yourself saying yes.
"come on, just one date," he'd plead, his blue eyes pleading in a way that made it hard to refuse. "i won't bite. unless you want me to."
you'd laugh at that, even as a shiver ran down your spine. there was something dangerous about aerion, something that should have sent you running in the opposite direction, but instead, it only made him more intriguing.
the breaking point came on a rainy tuesday evening.
you'd just finished your shift at the diner, and as you stepped outside, you found him leaning against the building, sheltered by the awning.
"aerion? what are you doing here? you're going to catch your death."
he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "waiting for you. figured you might need a ride."
your heart did that little flip it always did when he did something unexpectedly thoughtful. "you've been waiting long?"
"an hour or so," he admitted, stepping closer and opening an umbrella to shelter you both.
you looked up at him, at the intensity in his gaze, and you knew you couldn't keep saying no. "okay," you whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of the rain. "one date. just one-”
the grin that spread across his face was brilliant, transforming his usually serious expression into something boyish and charming. "deal," he said, his voice low and triumphant.
that first date was nothing like you'd expected. he took you to a small place on the other side of town, he held doors open for you, pulled out your chair, and listened attentively as you talked about your classes and your dreams. he was still rough around the edges, still aerion, but there was a gentleness to him that you hadn't seen before.
over the next few weeks, you'd meet after your shifts, steal kisses in dark corners, and talk on the phone until the morning rays streamed through your window curtains. aerion was attentive and caring, always seeming to know what you needed before you did.
he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. you saw the kindness beneath the rough exterior, the vulnerability behind the tough guy act.
sure, he irritated you, but he made you laugh when you were trying not to.
he was the best boyfriend you had ever had….he was the only boyfriend you had ever had up until that point….but not because he was easy, because he wasn’t. not because he was sweet, it was because he paid attention. because he showed up. because when he looked at you, there was no doubt in it, no games, no half-measures. he loves you more than he had loved anything in his whole life and it showed.
just that dangerous, unwavering kind of devotion that made your whole life feel somehow, impossibly, safer….
but as they always do…good things come to an end, it happened on a thursday night, after work, you had called aerion twice. then a third time. then you stopped because the ringing started to make you feel stupid.
you caught up to him three days later. three days of unanswered calls. three days of wondering if he was hurt, if something had happened, if he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
you found him in the parking lot behind the convenience store just before sunset, when the light had gone thin and gray and the pavement still held the heat of the day. there was a dark bruise starting along the side of his jaw, fresh enough that it had not been there the last time you saw him. his hair looked messier than usual, his mouth set in that hard line he got when he was trying not to show anything at all. he glanced up when he noticed you coming, and for half a second his face changed, almost like he had expected this and still didn’t want it.
“aerion,” you said, stopping in front of him. your voice came out sharper than you meant it to. “you could’ve answered one text.”
aerion gave a short, tired exhale through his nose and looked away instead of answering right away, like he was buying himself a second. “i wasn’t really looking at my phone.”
you stared at him, disbelief flashing hot and immediate. “you disappeared for three days.”
“it wasn’t three days.”
“pretty sure it was.”
a muscle moved in his jaw. he looked past you toward the lot, at the faded white lines and the half-empty row of parked cars, like anything out there would be easier to deal with than your face. “i’m not doing this in a parking lot.”
he looked like he wanted to say something rude, something easy and defensive, but when he spoke, his voice came out quieter than before. “i knew you were going to be mad.”
“mad?” your throat tightened before you could stop it. the next words came out smaller, stripped of some of the heat you’d been carrying the whole drive over. “i thought something happened to you.”
“i thought maybe you were hurt,” you admitted, and now your voice was rougher, less angry than before. “i called and called and you just-” you stopped, swallowing hard. “you just vanished. that’s not what boyfriends are supposed to do just by the way!”
he rubbed a hand down his face, dragging it slowly over his mouth and jaw like he was trying to wipe away exhaustion that sat too deep to be physical. “i had stuff to handle.”
“then tell me.”
“i can’t.”
the answer was so immediate it made you stare. “why not?”
he gave a small, humorless shrug without really looking at you. “because i just can’t.”
“you tell me what you can tell me, and half the time that’s nothing, and then you look annoyed when i’m upset about it.”
he let out a low breath, his frustration finally showing in the tight set of his shoulders and the sharp flick of his eyes toward you. “jesus fuckin’ christ.”
you pointed at the space between the two of you, your hand shaking slightly with how hard you were trying not to cry. “this is exactly what i’m talking about.”
his expression had gone hard again, but there was something strained underneath it now, something worn thin. “what do you want from me?”
you looked at him for a second, stunned by how genuinely confused he sounded.
“i want you to talk to me.”
“i am talking to you.”
“no, you’re not.”
he stared at you like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to tell you you were being unfair, but instead he just dragged a hand over the back of his neck and looked away again. “then what the hell is this?”
you didn’t answer right away. the noise of the parking lot seemed to swell around you, the hiss of a passing car, the buzz of a broken light over the store entrance, the dull rush of blood in your ears.
your chest felt tight. your mouth went dry.
“i can’t do this,” you said.
aerion went still.
then, very carefully, he asked, “what does that mean?”
for a second, you wished he would interrupt you. tell you to stop being dramatic. tell you to calm down. tell you this didn’t have to be this big. tell you literally anything that would keep you from saying the thing you already knew was waiting in your throat.
he stayed quiet.
“i don’t think this is working.”
for one second neither of you reacted, and in that pause you could feel your own heart thudding hard enough to hurt. aerion just stared at you. “you want to break up?”
your eyes burned immediately. you hated that they did. you hated the way your body betrayed you at the worst possible moment.
“i don’t know,” you said, but even to your own ears it sounded weak.
his expression changed, just slightly. “sounds like you do.”
aerion was quiet for a long time after that. long enough that you started to think he might argue, instead he only nodded once.
“alright,” he said. the word was so quiet you almost missed it. he shoved his hands into his pockets like he needed something to do with them. “if this is what you need,” he said, and now his voice was lower, rougher, “then okay. i'll give you time.”
you looked at him, your vision blurred at the edges.
he just stood there.
then you turned away.
your feet felt strange, heavy and unreal, like they belonged to someone else. you kept waiting for him to call your name. to reach for you. to say he was sorry. to say anything at all.
he didn’t.
the first few months after the breakup were miserable. the truth was that sometimes you'd leave work late at night and get the strange feeling that someone was nearby. the uneasy certainty that if something happened, if you broke down on the side of the road or got stranded somewhere at midnight, aerion would somehow know.
you hated that feeling, you hated that part of you found comfort in it.
then you met calvin.
at first, he seemed normal, after aerion, normal felt refreshing. cal was charming. easygoing. he didn't disappear for days at a time. he answered texts. he remembered birthdays….people said he was good for you and you tried very hard to believe them.
but things again, are never perfect,
he'd mock your music, he'd roll his eyes when you talked too much, every disagreement somehow became your fault, you'd leave conversations feeling guilty and confused without understanding why.
a month passed and his temper got worse and somewhere out there, aerion watched it happen.
he saw the way your smile had changed, saw the way you flinched when calvin raised his voice in public, saw the way you apologized constantly now. for everything.
the first time aerion witnessed calvin grabbing your wrist hard enough to leave marks, he nearly got out of his car. the only thing that stopped him was you, you had laughed it off afterward and smiled, pretended everything was fine.
the memory haunted him for weeks. by then he hated your new boyfriend, not the irrational jealousy he'd expected but hate, true vile hate.
because every time he saw the man, he saw someone taking pieces from you, little by little, until the bright, stubborn girl he'd fallen in love with seemed tired all the time, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
until the night everything finally broke.
rain hammered against the windows, the storm had rolled in around sunset and never let up, turning the neighborhood into a blur of water and flashing headlights.
cal came home drunk enough that you knew it the second you heard the front door open.
it was in the uneven drag of his footsteps across the entryway, in the pause that came before he shut the door too hard behind him, in the way he stood there for a second like he had to remember what room he was in.
you looked up from where you were sitting with your knees tucked under you, your phone resting in your hand, half-forgotten.
“where were you?” he asked.
you stared at him. “what?”
cal took a few more steps into the room, one hand braced against the back of the chair as if he needed it to stay upright. his eyes were glassy and unfocused, but the look on his face was sharp enough to make up for it.
“where were you today?” he repeated.
“at work,” you said carefully. “cal, what is this?”
he let out a short, humorless laugh and shook his head, like your answer had offended him. “try again.”
you set your phone down slowly, suddenly very aware of how quiet the room had become. “what are you talking about?”
he reached into his pocket, fumbled with his keys, and tossed them onto the kitchen counter with a loud metallic clatter. the sound made you flinch despite yourself.
“him,” he said.
the word hit you like a drop in body temperature.
you already knew who he meant. for a second, you just looked at him. you could feel your pulse in your throat. “cal-”
“you still talking to him?”
“no.”
his jaw tightened. “you expect me to believe that?”
“i haven’t spoken to him in months.”
“then why is he always around?”
you stared at him in disbelief. “i don’t know.” and that was the truth. you didn’t know why.
he dragged a hand over his mouth and looked at you like you had personally done this to him. “you think i’m a joke.”
“no,” you said immediately, you tried to keep your voice steady. “cal, you’re drunk.”
that made him stop moving for half a second, like the words had landed somewhere they weren’t supposed to. then his hand slammed against the counter the sound cracked through the room.
you jerked back before you could stop yourself, your heart thudding hard enough to hurt. cal stared at you, chest rising and falling, his breathing heavier now.
then he took a step toward you.
you stood up without thinking, putting the couch between you for a second, though it didn’t make you feel any safer. “cal, stop.”
“answer me.” the words came louder this time, bouncing off the walls with a force. rain tapped against the windows, soft and constant at first, then harder as the storm outside picked up. the sound made the house feel sealed in, cut off from everything else.
“nothing is going on,” you said, and hated how thin your own voice sounded.
he stared at you, then his expression changed, it was quick so quick you almost missed it.
his hand came up before you had time to move and the slap rang through the room.
your head turned with the force of it. your vision flashed white for a second. you stumbled back into the edge of the couch, your hand flying to your face as heat burned across your cheek.
cal froze, he looked just as shocked for half a second, as if even he hadn’t expected it to go that far. “don’t look at me like that,” he said, his voice low and ugly now.
you stared at him, breathing hard, your fingers pressed to your face. “don’t. cal, don’t come near me.”
he took another step, you backed away immediately, panic flooding so fast you could hardly think over it. “no. stop.”
he was still moving.
so you turned and ran.
you took the stairs two at a time, your feet slipping slightly on the runner as your heart slammed against your ribs. behind you, you heard him follow, the heavy, uneven sound of his footsteps thudding up after you.
you reached for your bedroom door and slamming the it shut behind you. your hands fumbled at the lock, shaking so badly you nearly missed it. maybe he’d stop. maybe he’d stay downstairs and cool off and this could become some horrible thing you never talked about again.
then you heard him on the other side. a scrape of something heavy dragging across the floor.
furniture.
“no,” you whispered, stepping back from the door. “no, cal, stop.”
“i think you need some time in here to think about how your actions have consequences!” he shouted from the other side.
you rushed forward and grabbed the handle, yanking hard, but it wouldn’t budge. the weight on the other side held it shut. something had been pushed up against the door. the realization hit you hard enough to make your knees go weak.
“cal!”
your voice cracked on his name.
you slammed the palm of your hand against the wood. you could hear your own pulse. you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. the silence on the other side of the door was unbearable, because it meant he was still there. still deciding. still close enough to scare you even when he wasn’t speaking.
then, from downstairs, came a crash.
you froze.
another one followed almost immediately, louder this time, something heavy hitting the floor hard enough to make the house shudder. voices rose below you, you couldn’t make out the words at first- just shouting, the strain of anger and force. something broke, or was thrown, and the sound sent a sharp jolt through your chest.
you backed away from the door without meaning to, both hands lifting to cover your mouth.
another bang rattled through the house.
then, suddenly-
silence.
you stood in the middle of the room, frozen, every muscle in your body locked tight as you listened for movement below. for breathing. for footsteps. for anything.
nothing.
then came the sound of footsteps on the stairs and stopped outside your door.
for one heartbeat, there was nothing but the rain and the sound of your own breath catching in your throat.
the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until it was broken by the scrape of furniture being dragged away from your door. you flinched back, pressing yourself against the far wall of your bedroom, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
the door swung open.
and there he was.
aerion.
he stood at the doorway, a silhouette against the dim light of the hallway, but the dim light couldn't hide the truth. it was slick and dark and wet, painted across his chest, splattered on his forearms, matting his hair to his forehead. it dripped from a cut above his eyebrow.
a sob, raw and ragged, tore from your throat. it was relief, you crossed the room to him, not thinking, just moving. you crashed into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.
"oh my god," you sobbed, you pulled back just enough to press frantic, desperate kisses all over his face- his cold cheek, his nose, his jaw, anywhere you could reach. "aerion, aerion, what are you doing here? cal-he's-he's- we have to go, we have to go now!" you grabbed his arm, trying to pull him, to make him understand the urgency. "he'll come back, he'll hurt you, he'll-"
aerion just stood there, letting you panic against him. his hands came up to rest on your back, a steady, grounding weight. "hey," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your entire body. "hey. it's okay."
you shook your head, tears blurring your vision. "no, it's not okay, you don't understand-"
and then you really looked at him. you looked at your hands, still gripping his arms, and saw the dark, viscous liquid coating your own skin. you looked at his shirt, not just wet with rain, but soaked through with something else. you looked at the dark spatters on the wall behind him, trailing down the hallway from the stairs.
a choked sound escaped you, a mix of a gasp and a whimper. you stumbled back, your hands flying to your mouth as if you could physically hold back the scream building in your chest. you stared at him, at the man you had just been kissing, the man you had just run to for safety. the blood was everywhere. on him. around him.
your relief curdled instantly into a cold, sharp terror. not of cal anymore, but of the man standing in front of you. the man who had come to you covered in blood.
aerion saw the shift in your eyes. he saw the fear replace the relief, and his own expression softened, a flicker of something desperate and pained crossing his face. he took a half-step toward you, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender.
"no, no," he said quickly, his voice urgent, trying to catch you before you completely unraveled. "don't worry, it's not mine, baby."
but it didn't help. it only made it worse. it wasn't his. which meant it was someone else's. it meant the silence downstairs wasn't just cal passed out. it meant the crash you heard wasn't just a lamp falling over.
"no," you breathed, the word a puff of air. you scrambled backward, your feet tangling in the rug until you hit the wall with a soft thud. you pressed yourself flat against it, as if you could disappear into the plaster. "don't. don't come near me."
his hands, which had been raised in placation, slowly dropped. the desperate look on his face hardened into something else- a grim determination. he took another step, and you flinched.
"stop! just stop right there!" you shouted, your voice trembling but high with panic. "aerion, what did you do? oh god, did you…did you kill him?"
the question hung in the air, heavy and obscene. he didn't answer it, not directly. instead, he kept moving, a slow, deliberate advance that was more terrifying than a rush.
"i was watching," he started, his voice low and intense, his eyes locked on yours. "i saw how drunk he was."
"aerion, please," you whispered, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. you slid along the wall, trying to put more distance between you, but there was nowhere to go.
"i heard him yelling," he continued, ignoring your plea, his voice growing thicker with a dark, possessive rage. "i heard him call you a liar….he hit you.” he took another step, and the space between you vanished. "what was i supposed to do?”
"get away from me!" you cried, shoving at his chest. your hands met the solid, wet fabric of his shirt, and the tacky feel of cal’s blood on your skin made you sob.
he didn't budge. he caught your wrists in his grip, his hold firm but not painful. it was the kind of hold that said i am not letting go. "it was a mistake," he said, his voice dropping to a raw, ragged whisper. his face was so close you could see the fleck of blood on his eyelash. "letting you go. it was the biggest mistake of my fucking life. thinking you'd be safer…”
"letting this asshole touch you- he was going to hurt you," he breathed, his thumbs stroking the frantic pulse in your wrists. "he was going to hurt you much worse than a slap. i saw it in his eyes. but its okay now, he’ll never hurt you again.”
you were trapped. pinned between the wall and his body, his words wrapping around you like a shroud. he had saved you, but in doing so, he had become a monster of his own making.
survival instinct, raw and primal, surged through the terror. you shoved against him with every ounce of strength you had. he was momentarily off-balance, his focus on his confession, and the sudden force made him stumble back a single step.
you wrenched your wrists from his loosened grip and ducked under his arm, scrambling away from him and the suffocating presence of the wall. you didn't look back. you fled, slamming the bedroom door shut behind you. the solid wood of the door was a pathetic barrier, but it was something.
he called out your name, his voice muffled by the door, but still you could hear the heat of his anger. you were taking the stairs two at a time, slipping and careening down the wooden steps. you didn't want to see. you didn't want to know. you just wanted out.
you hit the bottom landing and your eyes were forced to take in the scene. the living room wasn't just a mess. it was a slaughterhouse.
cal was on the floor, halfway between the overturned coffee table and the front door. he wasn't just bleeding. he was… broken. the shape of him was wrong, contorted at an impossible angle. his face was a ruin you couldn't process. a dark, thick pool of blood was spreading out from beneath him, seeping into the fibers of the rug, creeping toward the baseboards like a living thing. it was splattered on the walls in violent, arterial arcs, a grotesque abstract painting against the beige paint. a lamp lay shattered nearby, its bulb blinking weakly, a dying star in a sea of red.
the sound that came out of you was a pure, animalistic shriek of horror.
"FUCK! i-it’s okay now! stop- fuckin’ running away!" aerion's voice was behind you now, at the top of the stairs. he was coming.
you didn't think. you ran, your shoe skidding in the slick blood on the floor but you made it to the door, the deadbolt groaning in protest, and stumbled out into the rain-swept night. the cold air hit your face like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the ice in your veins.
he yelled your name again from the doorway, his voice chasing you into the darkness.
you didn't stop. you didn't look back. you ran from the house, from the blood, from the body, from the monster you had once loved. you ran across the wet lawn, your shoes sinking into the mud, until you hit the edge of the property and plunged into the open field beyond. the tall, wet grass whipped at your legs, soaking your tank top and little shorts. you kept running, your lungs burning, your heart a frantic, painful drum against your ribs. you ran until the lights of the house were just a distant, hazy glow, until the only sounds were the rain, the howl of the wind, and your own choked, sobbing breaths.
you could escape. you could make it to the road. you could-
an arm like a steel band snaked around your waist, lifting you off your feet. the momentum sent you both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and wet grass. the impact knocked the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping like a fish on land. before you could draw breath to scream, a large, calloused hand clamped over your mouth.
"don't. make. a. fucking. sound." he growled, his voice a low, furious rumble right against your ear. his body was a heavy weight on top of yours, pinning you effortlessly. you thrashed wildly, your hands clawing at the arm around your waist, your legs kicking, but it was useless. he was immovable.
“shhhh sh sh sh.” his grip on your mouth tightened, a clear warning. you could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves, a stark contrast to the cold rain soaking you both.
"where did you think you were going? hmmm?" he demanded, his voice laced with a dark, incredulous fury. "did you really think you could just run away? from me?" he shifted, pressing his weight down more firmly, stilling your struggles. "i just fixed your mess. i just saved your life. and this is how you thank me?”
you were sobbing against his palm, hot, useless tears mixing with the cold rain on your face. you couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
"i told you," he hissed, his lips brushing against your temple. the gesture was almost tender, a horrifying contrast to his words and his strength. "i told you i'm not losing you again. now you're going to stop. you're going to calm down. and you're going to listen to me.”
“we're going home now..."