Intercourse

 

By Ann V

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, but if I tell you who they are and who owns all of them I might ruin the surprise.

 

Warning: Technically this has homosexual topics, but only if you figure out who is speaking and who they are speaking about.

 

 

 

Hi!

 

Hello... Do I know you? It feels like I should.

 

I hope so. You’ve certainly seen me enough.

 

I just can’t figure out... oh, wait… are you?

 

Yes.

 

So I’m...

 

Quite.

 

Oh. Well, that’s good.

 

It is?

 

Yes, but just a little disappointing.

 

Oh really now?

 

Yes. I thought, well, you know.

 

No, enlighten me why don’t you?

 

It’s just I don’t know. I figured I wouldn’t feel so... so...

 

Unfulfilled?

 

No.

 

Pained?

 

No, that’s not it.

 

Guilty?

 

Maybe, yes, but not about that.

 

No, I wouldn’t think you’d feel bad about that.

 

No, of course not.

 

It’s about him, isn’t it?

 

Yes, yes it is.

 

Why?

 

Because he saved me.

 

But he hurt you?

 

So what, so did everyone else, but he was the only person who ever cared.

 

He didn’t really.

 

I know, but maybe - just maybe - if I keep telling myself that he really did care, maybe I’ll believe it.

 

That’s not a very good plan.

 

No, I suppose not. Well, he was the only one who ever did anything to help me.

 

Yes, but was it worth it?

 

It’s always worth it.

 

Yes, but worth all that?

 

I’d do it again: All the killing, all the bloodshed - mine made for most of it - all the pain, all of the hate and the mistrusting and the self-destruction.

 

That’s not all. You know that, don’t you?

 

What else was there?

 

Why did you stay?

 

What do you mean?

 

Well, it doesn’t matter now, so why did you stay with him even through all that?

 

Because it was my cause too.

 

It was a stupid cause.

 

No it wasn’t.

 

Oh yeah? Well, he was an egotistical bastard who hurt you and everyone around him. He didn’t have a care in the world except for himself and that poufy bastard of a brother he had. You knew the whole time that he’d never treat anyone better, and you stayed and let him hurt you and then you went and did all his dirty work, and then you... you’re...

 

Yeah, yeah I know... but... Well, it’s hard to explain.

 

So what? We’ve got till forever, just try.

 

Do you know how you work really hard to get rid of all the pain in your life, and then someone comes along and can get rid of your personal Hell with just one little touch? You know that very moment that you’d walk through Hell for that person. You’d do anything, because anything is worth freedom, even giving it up. Anything is worth life, even having someone else live it for you.

 

So?

 

So.

 

So what’s it supposed to mean to me? You know who I am and really, I’ve seen plenty of people who have been saved over and over again and given all that the world can give just one man, and they’ve walked away unaffected. So why this? Why you?

 

Why me? Funny... I feel like I ask that a lot.

 

You know the answer. It’s just in you somewhere.

 

Where?

 

Your heart? Soul? Stomach?

 

Somehow that’s supposed to be funny.

 

Yeah, I guess it is.

 

Do I have a heart?

 

Yes, yes, I think you do.

 

Why do I feel like I don’t? - Or a soul for that matter.

 

Maybe you gave them away. People do it all the time. They call it love. It hurts.

 

...

 

What why are you giving me that look? What I say?

 

How bad does it hurt?

 

I don’t really know exactly. Poets talk about it; lots of dead poets. I think the best description was this: “Love is a little red line that cuts your heart in half so it bleeds and then stops it from healing up again.” No poet said that, just some punk with a cig between his lips. Smart kid, though.

 

Isn’t love supposed to be some froofy thing that makes people simpering cunts?

 

So some would think. But that’s infatuation; I’ve got a sister who finds it her job to know all about this. We don’t get along too well. Anyway, that’s not true love. True love is on a level above all the rest.

 

What’s the difference, a word?

 

No, hun, it’s a feeling. Infatuation makes you burn with lust and can make you angry and can make you leave. True love, now that’s a motherfucker. That’s when you can’t get angry and you can’t leave, and you’ve got lust but the lust never really ever goes away because it’s been tattooed on your soul. You give all you’ve got in you for true love at every chance you get, and even at the chances that you don’t get. You hold on, but in that non-clingy sort of way where you’d put up with a lot just because it’s coming from them. You want to make them happy because you’ve got some sort of undying connection with them and what hurts them in turn hurts you, even if you don’t really want to admit that you are that close to being a simpering cunt. Every little word hits home and every little touch, even those incidental brushings in the hallway, warm you up all over.

 

That doesn’t sound so bad. Like having the other half to a whole and being a complete for the first time in a life. It sounds like it could make one feel everything you’re supposed to feel. How is what is right painful? You make absolutely no sense, even when you try. No, especially when you try.

 

Well you see, true love has a tendency to mess up. People just don’t like to make themselves so vulnerable by letting this whole other individual - who can be completely the opposite of them - get so close to them. All your flaws are opened wide up, and yet looking through the eyes of true love the person near you has no flaws. It’s hard on the psyche. People second guess it all the time, they try to force it. Then of course if you add unrequited joys in which someone gives up a heart to someone who seems totally unreceptive, that’s when suicide, abuse, rape, masochism, and desperation get thrown in. The world is a messed up place but you always knew that, didn’t you?

 

Yes, it’s not a good place. It deserves all that comes to it. It’s going to light up like all it’s suns some day and I hope I won’t be so dead not to notice and watch - and maybe I’ll even smile. Now I think I get the idea. Humans are such fools…and they are so blind.

 

Aren’t you human?

 

Yes, I did not say I was exempt. But I just spent a lifetime trying to make it so I wasn’t.

 

It didn’t work?

 

No, no it didn’t.

 

No need to sound so bitter. So?

 

So.

 

How did all my poetic waxing make you feel?

 

I don’t know. Why are you smirking at me like that?

 

Oh sorry.

 

It makes me feel like I’m some little child who you feel like is about to do something foolish that you will find amusing.

 

I was thinking my expression was that of someone who knew they were about to make themselves very proud to be who they are.

 

Oh, yes, and how?

 

Well, we’ll see, won’t we.

 

What do you want from me?

 

Direct, aren’t you? Well, and stop with that glare, it won’t work on me. I’m thinking that I don’t usually get a decent conversation so often in this line of work and I feel bad for you, so I’m trying to make you feel better.

 

By turning me into a presumptuous poxy, I think you are missing a few logic enzymes in your brain.

 

No, why would you think that?

 

You know why.

 

Yes, yes I do, but honey, it doesn't matter now so just say it. Aw, come on, just for me?

 

No.

 

Please.

 

Stop that look. It won’t work on me. You know how I am.

 

Well, yes I do, but I want you to admit it, you got close there.

 

Fine... I... I...

 

Oh stop with the stuttering, you were speaking eloquently and insulting me just a second ago.

 

ilovehim.

 

Oh, you can do better than that.

 

I love him.

 

There, that wasn’t that bad.

 

You have no idea.

 

Well then, we don’t have time to shout it from the mountain tops but I know you’ll feel better just having talked to someone in your... uh, life without telling them you would kill them at least three times, or having it involve grievous bodily harm.

 

So, now what, dream-destroyer woman.

 

Aw, come on. Take my hand. There’s someone waiting for you.

 

What?

 

Well, I might be a while, so technically they aren’t waiting but I had to talk to you, but when you get where you need to be they’ll be waiting for you.

 

Oh. My. Dear. Bloody. Lucifer. You are so... so... heinous!

 

No, I’m just doing what’s best to get you out of that destructive little shell, and don’t worry, we’ll be having a little conversation. You are about to become a very lucky man.

 

Bitch.

 

It comes with the job. Now take my hand already!