“If I didn't care more than words can say. If I didn't care would I feel this way?” The old 1920th song played silently in the background and Leonard sighed slowly. The Bourbon burned in his throat, warmth spreading through his body. He felt relaxed and everything he looked at had a fuzzy edge. It was a sign to stop drinking, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care at this point. The bottle on the table, the liquid in his glass, both had such a... beautiful color in the dim light of his quarters.
“If this isn't love then why do I thrill? And what makes my head go 'round and 'round. While my heart stands still?” The song was careful and felt like medication for Leonard's pained heart. He knew his fair share about the gone centuries but he had to say that he was always again amazed by the beauty created in often so horrifying times. But then, it seemed to be true that most beauty came out of misery. Leonard could think of several examples in history; Van Gogh's paintings. Breathtaking to no compare but the man had been a broken and lonely soul.
“If I didn't care would it be the same? Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?” Another soft sigh escaped his own lips. His mouth felt dry and warm and the chair he sat on was nicely comfortable. He might take a nap on it simply because he didn't know if he could make it to the bed. A small, cold bed on which he had lied so many nights. He never would have thought to be hit so hard by an event. He always thought... Had thought that he was stronger then that.
“And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?” He had been such a fool to assume that there might have been a chance for him and his bleeding heart. Why did he have to fall in love with his best friend? It wasn't... fair. First his divorce and years at Starfleet Academy, with relationships and a turmoil of regret mixed with bar fights and silent nights. He had overcome it, eventually. Jocelyn, his old life... It took him time to accept all of that to be gone. But he managed. With Jim's help, god knows, he managed.
“If I didn't care honey child, mo' than words can say. If I didn't care baby, would I feel this way?” He followed Jim into the stars, never mind his fear of space. He followed a young boy with the right ideas and became CMO on board of the Enterprise. Things were good, back than. Easy, if not to say harmonic. Oh, of course there was Nero, and Khan and heaven knows that Leonard prays every night to never have to encounter either of those. But there also had been the metal eating dust, and the planet made of flesh eating rocks. Those few encounters with annoying politicians. They had been busy, back in those days, but they were busy these days as well. It just was... different now.
“Darlin' if this isn't love, then why do I thrill so much? What is it that makes my head go 'round and 'round while my heart just stands still so much?” Jim and Bones was no longer, no more. Their – and Leonard had always called it 'special' – relationship was now just a friendship. Jim had a family and while Leonard was part of it, he was more like a... cousin. Someone to text from time to time, chat with on events. Not a brother or sister, nothing too... special. Not like Mr. Spock. Leonard was nothing like Spock. Why else would Jim have fallen for the Vulcan but not for...?
“If I didn't care would it be the same? Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?” He sighed, feeling defeated. His bones felt heavy and if he could he'd replace his blood with cooling liquid. It might make the pain ache less. His heart felt like a broken joint felt but the healing process would take... so... much longer. Leonard wasn't sure if he could ever recover from this but then, he learned that with time mostly everything could be forgotten.
“And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?” He sipped at the Bourbon, watching the amber colored liquid move around. His eyes felt tired, and they stung. He didn't have to see himself in a mirror to know how bad he looked. Red eyes from not wept tears, mussed hair from his own hands sliding through them in misery. He'd call in sick tomorrow. He'd drink a little more. He'd try to forget his heart.
“It never...” He sighed, sounding defeated. He emptied his glass just to refill it instantly, “...did me good anyway.”
