***

Title: Homesick
Author: Lizzie
E-mail: [email protected] / [email protected]
Rating: R, possibly NC-17, I suck at ratings.
Content: m/m sex and heap o' blood. You'll see what I mean.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will, not saying this happened.
Distribution: Simple philosophy - want, take, have. Just tell me where.
Summary: In a non-WWF AU, Jeff's got an unhealthy obsession.
Notes: Big thanks to Dove for the parts of this that she gave to me to finish off in a PWP. Sorry it never made it to the PWP, but it's added to a much bigger fic. Hope you're not gonna kill me. Oh, and this isn't for the squeamish, especially as the fic progresses. You'll see what I mean. And excuse my horribly affected internal dialogue thing - accents aren't my strong suit. Especially not the first character's. Oh, and the parts are all in different points of view. You�ll work out who they are. And, basically, my excuse for this fic is I wanted to practice my smut-writing. *giggles* And trust me, there'll eventually be some significance to the name, I promise. I didn't just conjure it from thin air. Stolen from the song of the same name by The Cure, but not based on it. Songfic nooooo nooooo!!! *makes a cross with her fingers*

***
Homesick - The Cure

hey hey! Just one more and I�ll walk away all the everything you win turns to nothing today and I forget how to move when my mouth is this dry and my eyes are bursting hearts in a bloodstained sky oh it was sweet it was wild and oh how we� I trembled stuck in honey honey cling to me so just one more just one more go inspire me the desire in me to never go home

oh just one more and I�ll walk away all the everything you win turns to nothing today so just one more just one more go inspire in me the desire in me to never go home

***
Homesick - Part One (Mark)
by Lizzie
***

Well, here I am. Another bike rally. It doesn't matter which one - they're all the same. I don't think I even know what town this is or the day or the date or even the fucking month. And y'know, it don't matter. All that matters is I'm sitting in this bar trying to drink myself into oblivion. It's goin' pretty well, too. I've got experience. And right now oblivion's lookin' pretty damn attractive. Not all that far away, either.

I've drunk enough that it don't even register with my throat when I down another double Jack. I don't think I'm drunk yet, though. It don't feel that way - I'm just a little unsteady and there's this ol' familiar burnin' in my gut. I'm not a drunk but my liver sure ain't too appreciative. Anyways, it'll feel better. 'Til the mornin' at least. Right now I need another, one I'm sure as hell not gonna spill over half of down the front of my damn vest. Leather don't react well to spirits and I ain't buying a new one jus' cuz I'm gettin' too old to hold a glass steady.

An' I'm just about to slap the glass down on the bar and bellow for another when I see him sitting there, alone. Cute little thing, kinda slim but kinda built, baggy black pants slung low over lean hips, black mesh shirt showin' off his chest. I'm not too sure, it could be the lights, but I think his hair looks purple. And I can't deny the reaction I'm havin' as he licks his lips. He's not the kinda guy I'd usually go for. But right now I don't much care. There's somethin' about him. I can't take my eyes off of him.

He looks up, right at me. My heart jumps and it ain't the only thing. He's fuckin' spectacular. I can't honestly recall the last time I got like this just by seein' a guy. But there's one thing for damn sure - it's gone be pretty damn awkward gettin' outta here with my dick almost pokin' a hole through my zipper. 'Specially as I haveta get past him. But it don't look like he'll be surprised. I'm not even tryin' to hide the fact I'm starin' at him, and he's starin' right back. Ya could say it's cuz it's not every day a seven foot red-head biker walks into his local dive, but somethin' 'bout that stare tell me it's more.

He's walkin' over. He must be - there ain't a whole helluva lot else over here but me and a pool table that I swear only needs one good shove to die and ugly death. He's right in front of me, this hint of a smile curlin' his lips. He's got green eyes and I was right - his hair's purple. He looks kinda like the kids I see in all the clubs, all in black like it's some kinda goddamn uniform, but I can't quite seem to care. He could be wearin' momma's Sunday dress and he'd still be beautiful. And he knows it, I can see.

I'm fuckin' stunning when he grabs the back of my head and kisses me hard enough to bruise. He's got a handful of my hair and I swear he's tryin' to jam his tongue right down my throat but I sure as hell ain't complainin' cuz it feels great. And he tastes great. Like apple pie and Jack Daniels, but I'm guessin' the Jack's what I've been drinkin'; he ain't been drinkin', 'less you count Coke. He tastes of that, too. Sweet and sugary like my own little piece of heaven.

But that hand snakin' down my chest down to tease me through my jeans ain't heavenly, it's downright sinful. Not that I'm complainin'... 'cept I whimper when he pulls away. I fuckin' *whimper*.

"Follow me", he whispers in a sweet Southern accent, right beside my ear, his purple hair ticklin' my neck. And there ain't no doubt in my mind. I'm gonna follow him.

So I do. Outta the bar, him leading me by my wrist. He's got a bike parked, kinda near mine, and he's tellin' me somethin' 'bout followin' him.

So I do. I start the engine, follow him off down the road 'til we're out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere I swear, 'til there's this house that looks like it's fallin' apart, an' he pulls into the driveway. I follow him in, pull up, get off the bike. He's beckonin' to me, crookin' his finger, this wicked smile on his mouth. I kinda smirk and walk up to him, boots crunchin' on the gravel underfoot. He walks backwards up the steps and I wonder how he's not trippin' himself 'til I realise this must be his place. Looks a little run down but I'm not gonna say anythin' - hell, he brought me here and it ain't like I wanna leave.

Once we're inside the door off the porch he slinks up to me and wraps his arms around my neck, pulls himself up on his toes and kisses me. He still tastes great, but there's somethin' in this place that don't smell so good... Not sure what it is, but it's gettin' to me, not quite strong enough to make me gag but pretty damn bad. Thick. Enough to distract me while he's pullin' at my vest like shouldn't be possible cuz it ain't like I don't want him. Bad.

But I don't have time to think about it cuz he's pullin' me with him down the hall, pushin' on a door, pullin' me inside after him. He reaches up and pulls off my bandana, tossin' it into the corner and he's runnin' his hands through my hair, pullin' it forward to hang round my face like his does. I feel myself bein' pushed backwards toward the bed and realise my vest's gone; I don't even remember takin' it off an' I must've had more to drink than I thought cuz I don't notice the cold steel of the cuffs 'til he's got 'em on me, around my wrists, metal cuttin' into my skin, the other side snapped to the post of the bed. I hadn't even noticed it was a bedroom.

"What the fuck?" I manage to question.

He just smiles and says "Now you're mine".

"Let me go, you son of a fuckin' bitch!" I roar, feelin' the steel bite deeper into my wrists as I struggle to get free.

He's leanin' over me, his lips brushin' my ear. "Shhh, sweetheart, I'm not gonna hurt you", he whispers. I shiver as his tongue grazes my earlobe. "At least not yet".

I feel myself relaxing a little at the sounds of his honey-sweet voice. What the hell... it's not like I haven't played this game before - I'm just not usually on the receivin' end of this, that's all. So I let him pull off my boots and pants, let him strip and climb onto the bed and crawl up between my thighs. He's got a tube of somethin' in his hand, somethin' he's rubbin' onto his fingers and I know what he's gonna do so it's not even a surprise to my fuzzy head when he presses two fingers into me. I just bite down on my lip a little, try to relax as he stretches me out. I kinda get the impression it'll be worth it if I do.

Then he's strokin' the stuff onto himself, crawlin' up over me, pushin' into me. And it feels fuckin' great, I'm not gonna lie. I've got this fuckin' gorgeous kid who seduced me in a goddamn bar fuckin' me, and it feels great. He bends his head and sucks on my nipple, drivin' me completely insane with the little sucks and nips and bites, the swipes of his tongue... Fuck, who taught him to do that? And he's thrustin' inside of me, nudgin' my prostate with almost every single fuckin' thrust, sendin' shivers down my spine and through my whole fuckin' body. It ain't been this good for a long, long time. Never thought I'd find this with a kid from a bar in whatever Godforsaken state this is...

And then he shudders and I know he's gonna come inside me, right then and there. He does. Hard. And collapses against my chest as I come all over his belly.

I can see this little smile on his face, and I want to be able to reach over and brush the hair from his cheek, but I can't cuz of these fuckin' cuffs. Christ knows why he needed 'em - it ain't like I would've said no. Well, maybe I would, but I'm sure as hell glad I didn't and I wish he'd take them off cuz I'm gonna have bruises round my wrists, I swear.

But then he looks up and I know why he needed the cuffs.

I don't know where the knife in his hand came from and I don't think I'm ever gonna find out. I try to tell myself he's jokin' around but the look on his face tell me he ain't, that glint in his eyes ain't lookin' good for me. He leans forward, his weight over my hips and I can't kick up cuz of it, and he hacks off a chunk of my hair, holds it in front my face, drops it on my chest. I'm shakin' and it ain't the sex. 'Specially when he takes the knife and runs it down my chest, the tip slicin' into the skin over my breastbone and I don't haveta look down to know I'm bleedin'. He's cut me. And it ain't gonna stop there.

I'm screamin' and flailin' and whippin' my head around, but somehow I know it ain't gonna do no good. There ain't no one around to hear me and he seems to know what he's doin'. Oh God, he ain't gonna stop. He ain't gonna stop.

And the knife's diggin' down further, scrapin' against the bone, openin' me up - it feels like there's a fire in my chest and there ain't nothin' I can do to stop it.

He leans forward, the bloody knife at my throat, his lips beside my ear.

"Don't scream", he says. "You're gonna want to save your strength".

I don't doubt that I will. But when he plunges the blade into my stomach, I can't help but scream. All I can do is hope someone hears me. Cuz he ain't gonna stop. And it's gonna be a long, long night.

***

Homesick - Part Two (Hunter)
by Lizzie

***

Of all the goddamn fucking places for my goddamn fucking car to break down, it just had to be here. Right out in the middle of fucking nowhere, NC. I don�t even know how I got talked into driving and not taking the plane like I usually would, but who gives a fuck, I�m here now and there�s fuck all I can do about it. But you can bet your ass I�m gonna get someone�s ass fired when I get back to Greenwich. Heads are gonna roll. They�re gonna fucking roll.

It�s not even like they got me a decent car. I�m not asking for a fucking Rolls Royce for fuck�s sake, I just expect something a little more reliable than this beat-up fifteen-year-old Japanese piece of shit. It�s so goddamn dented it looks like someone�s taken a sledgehammer to it - not that I�m saying that�s a particularly bad idea right now, �cause hell, I don�t think it�d exactly do a whole lot of damage. Goddamn Japanese piece of broken-down shit. Argh!

But y�know, suddenly this isn�t looking half so bad.

He�s shorter than me, but then again the vast majority of people I meet are. Still, he�s not exactly that much shorter, even if he is a hell of a lot less bulky. Okay, that makes me sound like I�m fat or something, and I�m not. I�m just very well built. Taken fucking hours in the gym to get this way. Hours that I don�t really have in my line of work. Managing a huge-ass company definitely has its advantages, but hours and hours of free time is not one of them.

And he�s got dyed hair. I�m not gonna pretend like I�ve never dyed my hair, but I can�t say I�ve ever thought about dying it that particular colour. I think I�d probably look a complete jackass with blue hair. Most of my clients must already think I look a little odd with the length of my hair, without my dyeing it blue. Looks kinda good on him, though.

As do the baggy black cargo pants and tight white long-sleeved shirt. Even the chipped black nail varnish looks great on him. And I can�t help wondering what he�s doing here in this diner. He looks like he belongs on stage somewhere with a guitar or a drum kit or something, or riding that dirt bike he�s got parked out in the parking lot, not striding into a dingy North Carolina diner just before closing. He looks like someone I might meet in New York or San Francisco or any city come to think of it but not in small town Carolina. Something just doesn�t seem right about him being here. Maybe I should ask him if he�s from here. I�ll bet he�s visiting a sick aunt or something.

I wonder what he�s ordering. I wonder if I should go over there and tell him I�ll pick up the check. But I don�t want to scare him off� Hell, the suit�s probably done that already, might as well give it a try.

�Can I buy you a coffee?� I ask, walking over to where he�s standing at the counter. A pair of green eyes flicker up and focus in on my face. He smiles and suddenly I feel slightly weak at the knees. What the hell�s wrong with me? I�m getting weak-kneed over some guy who looks like he might just be twenty-three at the very, very most?

He nods. �Sure�, he says. I glance at the waitress and she scurries off for the coffee. Then he takes the cup and the slice of apple pie he just ordered and leads me back to my table, slides onto the seat opposite me.

�What�s your name?� he asks, digging into the pie, glancing up at me briefly.

�Hunter�, I tell him. �You?�

�Jeff. Hardy. You�re not from around here�.

�No, actually, I�m from Greenwich�. He frowns a little. �Connecticut�.

�Oh. So what are you doing way out here?�

�Just passing through. My piece of shit rental car broke down and stranded me here �til the morning. What about you?�

�Oh, I live here�.

�You *live* here?� I can�t hide the surprise in my voice. He smiles.

�Yeah, just about all my life. I live just outside of town, with my brother. But he�s away at the moment�. He leans forward slightly, licking a little ice cream from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. �Do you have anywhere to stay tonight? Your car won�t be ready �til the morning, I checked�.

And just like that he�s got me. I don�t think I could say no to him if I wanted. Which incidentally I don�t.

�No, no I don�t. What would you suggest?�

He smirks slightly. �I think you know what I�d suggest�.

�Maybe I just wanna hear you say it, Jeff�.

�Spend the night with me�, he says with a smile, before going back to licking his spoon.

�How�s the pie?� I ask, like maybe that's the answer to his question.

He puts down the spoon, raises himself up and leans forward across the table, grabbing my tie and pulling me towards him. �You tell me�, he says before kissing me, hard, deep. The pie�s good, but not half as god as him.

And for some reason I don�t care that I�m sitting in a diner kissing some guy I just met. It just feels too good to care.

He stands and pulls me with him - I barely have time to grab my coat and briefcase as he pulls me toward the door.

I feel vaguely ridiculous hanging onto him with one arm, sitting on the back of his bike, holding my briefcase in the other. The sun�s just going down and the wind�s blowing in my hair and for some reason despite how stupid this has just got to look, it feels really good. Despite the fact I�m riding home with a guy I just met on the back of his bike to a house that�s deserted and out of town. How was this a good idea? Except I�m sure I could overpower him if I needed to. Why am I worrying?

�Whose is the bike?� I ask, nodding to the Harley in the driveway as we come to a stop on the gravel.

He shrugs. �Just a friend�s�, he says. �Coming in?� There�s no way I can say no to the devilish look on his face. I follow him up the steps onto the front porch and through the door into the house.

It smells a little funny in here, like something�s rotted and someone�s tried to cover it over with cheap air fresheners. Maybe he just left something out in the sun or a cat died under the house or whatever, but I get this strange sinking feeling that something�s wrong. I don�t have time to think about it, though, �cause he�s pressing against me and I can feel how hard he is through the cargo pants and my suit. Suddenly I�m painfully hard myself and I have to be inside him, *now*.

He kisses me, still tasting like apple pie and the coffee I bought him, and something else that�s kinda sweet and kinda coppery and completely intoxicating. He�s tickling the roof of my mouth with his tongue and sucking at my bottom lip and pulling me toward him by my shoulders and my hips, making me press him back against a wall, grinding my cock against his hip. He�s biting gently at my lip and digging his fingers into my back and my ass and pulling the elastic out of my hair, running his fingers through it, twining them in it �til I think he�s gonna pull it out.

Then he draws back, resting his head back against the wall. �Fuck me�, he gasps. I�m not gonna say no.

I practically fucking tear off his shirt then start clawing at his pants - they come off pretty easily once I�ve ripped off the button �cause they just fall and pool around his feet. And he�s pawing at my suit, pushing the jacket off my shoulders, pulling down my pants. He presses a tube of lube into my hand and I rub it over my throbbing cock before I just push into him, making him moan and buck against me. Somehow his legs end up around my waist and he�s holding himself up against the wall grasping the collar of my shirt - for some reason I don�t care that he�s ruining a fucking expensive Armani thing my lover bought me for my last birthday.

Hmm, my lover. I wonder what Kurt�s doing now. Probably settling down to watch VH1 or cooking dinner or something. Sweet, dependable Kurt. He knows I�ve cheated on him in the past. He knows I�ll cheat on him this time I�m away. I always do. Hell, it�s not like he doesn�t cheat on me, and at least I don�t cheat on him with people we know. Like he�s ever gonna meet Jeff Hardy.

His fingernails are grazing my nipples through my shirt and I swear to God I�m moaning but for a moment it almost didn�t register that it was me. And he�s sucking at my neck, moving to bite at my lip, throwing his head back �til I think he�ll knock himself out on the wall if he�s not fucking careful. Fucking careful. That�s a fucking laugh. I don�t think I�ve fucked careful in my whole life.

Then he moans one last time and comes as I come inside him. I sink forward against his chest, feeling his legs drop from my waist. He kisses me softly, resting his forehead against mine, his fingertips tracing circles on the back of my neck.

What the fuck? He�s yanking my hair and pushing me backwards, pulling my tie tight around my neck �til I almost can�t breathe and I know I must be going red; I claw at the tie, eyes wide, staring at him as he pushed me back over a table I didn�t know was there, and what the fuck�s in his hand? What the fuck�s going on here? Christ, dear sweet God that hurts! Fuck! Oh God I know what that noise is. Hunter, don�t look. Don�t look. Except I can�t help it. I have to look. The sound�s enough to make me gag and I think I�d be throwing up if I didn�t have a Versace tie cutting into my throat. It�s grating, squelching, grinding, the bit of the electric drill he�s holding in his hands biting through the palm of my hand and into the table.

I stare at him, wide-eyed, as he drills into my other hand. I almost can�t feel it anymore. I think I�m going to pass out and I think that would be a good thing, except I don�t think he�s going to let me. Oh God this can�t be happening. This shouldn�t be happening. I can�t do anything, I can�t move, I�m bent back over the table and it feels like I�m being snapped in half and he�s drilled me to the table. There are screws through my hands. Oh God there�s so much blood�

�What the fuck are you doing?� I choke, barely audible �cause almost all my air�s cut off.

He puts down the drill, picks up a knife, walks back in front of me, pulls up my head by my hair. The smile on his face turns my stomach, but that�s nothing compared to the look in his eyes.

�Practicing�, he says.

So maybe this wasn�t such a great idea after all.

***

Homesick - Part Three (Shane)
by Lizzie

***

�No, sorry - he�s not back yet�, Jeff tells me as I stand on the front porch of the Hardys� house. �Want me to tell him you stopped by when he gets home?�

�Yeah, sure. Any idea when that�ll be?�

He shrugs. �Couple of hours? Couple of days? Your guess is as good as mine. You know how he gets�.

I find myself nodded. �Cause I guess I do know how Matt gets. Sometimes he just disappears for weeks on end and doesn�t let anyone know where he�s going or when he�ll be back. Sometimes he doesn�t even tell us he�s going. We try to tell ourselves it�s the nature of his job, but it isn�t really. He�s an engineer and sorta advises people on building projects all around the world, so sometimes he does haveta jet off at a moment�s notice. Whereas I�m stuck here playing mechanic and part-time clerk at the comic book store and Jeff, well, fuck knows what Jeff does. It seems to�ve been Matt�s life�s work to make it so Jeff doesn�t have to work. All I ever see him do is mess with his bikes and watch TV.

Speaking of bikes�

�Whose is the bike?� I ask, nodding to the gorgeous, huge Harley sitting in the drive.

�Mark�s�, he says absently, scratching at the paint peeling off the door. Matt earns enough money, I don�t see why they don�t redecorate once in a while, make the place look a little nicer. I know they could, but neither of them seems to notice the state it�s in. Then he looks up. �A friend. He�s staying for a while�.

�Real biker type, is he?�

Jeff nods. �Yeah. He was here for the rally a couple of weeks ago, remember?�

I guess I do, vaguely. There seemed to be a lot of bikers in town that week but I hadn�t realised there�d been a rally. God knows why anyone would schedule a bike rally out here. Didn�t know Matt and Jeff knew any bikers - we have basically all the same friends apart from Matt�s friends from the office over in Charlotte, or this mysterious guy he keeps telling us about. I�ve never known Matt to be secretive, but I guess he is when it comes to his love life.

So I nod. �Yeah, I guess I do�, I say. �Hey, did something crawl under your house and die? It smells awful out here!�

He shrugs. �I don�t know, haven�t been able to figure out what it is. Do you want to come in? I�ve got a refrigerator full of cold beers��

All he had to say was cold beer. �Sounds great�.

I follow him into the house; it smells even worse in there if that�s at all possible, but I don�t say anything. He doesn�t seem to notice it and I guess I don�t really know Jeff well enough to insult his housekeeping. Weird, really - I spend more time with Jeff than I do with his brother but I know Matt so much better. He kinda keeps himself to himself.

There�s a briefcase sitting on the table in the lounge, between two huge holes. I frown at it then shrug off the odd feeling it gives me, flowing Jeff through into the kitchen and taking the beer he offers me. I take a huge gulp and that seems to calm my nerves - I hadn�t even realised I was nervous. And it doesn�t smell so bad in here now. Probably because Jeff�s standing so close to me that all I can smell is his aftershave and well, just him.

�Whose is the briefcase?� I ask.

�Hunter�s�, he replies.

�Another friend?�

�Yeah. Businessman in from out of town�. He turns to me and gives me this odd look, and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. He�s having a real odd effect on me today. Not that he normally doesn�t, but normally I have Matt there to keep me in check. God knows what I�m gonna do if I don�t get outta here� �Jealous?�

I almost cough out my mouthful of beer and gape at him. Jealous? Oh hell yeah I�m jealous. Of Mark the biker guy, of Hunter the businessman, of every guy he�s ever been with �cause if I�m honest I�ve had the hots for Jeff ever since we first met, and that was a hell of a long time ago.

�It�s okay�, he says, almost fucking purrs, stepping closer to me, taking the beer out of my hand and putting it on the counter. �I like you too�.

And he kisses me. I�m so stunned that for a second I just stand there and let him kiss me, his hands going to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. Then I realise what�s happening, however unlikely the situation may be, and I kiss back. Hard. As hard as he's kissing me, 'til our teeth are almost touching and his tongue's so far down my throat I can't breathe anymore. He's pushing me backwards down the hall and I know where he's taking me - I don't want to break the kiss so I stumble backwards up the stairs toward his room.

I push through the door with my back, collapse on the bed with him on top of me. He's pulling off my shirt, and I want to tell him to be careful 'cause it's my best Green Lantern shirt but somehow the words won't form. I just gasp at him as he pulls off my clothes, followed by his own 'til they're all pooled on the floor by the bedside.

Then he's kissing me again, rolling over, pulling me up off the bed with him 'til I'm dizzy and I'm wondering why we came in here in the first place if all he's gonna do is drag me down the hall. Then we're in the bathroom and I see why we came down here 'cos the bath's running slowly and he turns on the shower over it as we step in, pressing to the slippery wall until he turns me and pushes me down 'til I'm sitting on the edge of the tub.

I'm not quite sure I want to know what he's gonna do 'til in one swift movement he's impaled himself on my cock and starts riding me like a man possessed. It's an astounding thing to see, my best friend's little brother bouncing up and down on me under the falling water, head thrown back, naked and absolutely beautiful. Doesn't even matter that he's got his hair dyed this revolting shade of neon green. He's just so tight and so hot, *so* fucking hot, and I'm not even sure I can think anymore 'cause I'm coming and he's coming and it's just the best feeling in the whole goddamn world, I'm sure, fucking Jeff Hardy.

He stands. Must've hurt like hell to kneel over me on the side of the tub like that and I'm pretty damn sure he'll have bruises across his shins from that, but I'm guessing he'll think it's worth it. And how he found the strength I don't know, 'cause I know if I tried it I'd just collapse. He showers he come off my belly then turns and pulls me down into the tub with him. I lie back against the side and he kneels between my knees, runs his hands over my chest. It feels so good to be here with him like this, more than I ever thought it'd be. 'Cause I have to admit I've thought about it. Jeff's just amazing to look at, even if he's the single most mysterious person I've met in my entire life.

But I can't breathe. I can't breathe 'cause he's got his hands around my throat, pressing into my windpipe, making my vision all blurred and my head hurt and I... I can't breathe! Fuck, what's he doing? Does he know he's hurting me? I look up and I know he does. He smiles down at me but that's not his smile, there's something wrong with it, and he's got me in this awkward position and he's not gonna let me up and...

Oh God I'm under the water. He's dunked my head under the water and I'm looking up at him through it, seeing him blurrily, all in outlines 'cause I'm thrashing about, trying to get him off me, trying to get up because I don't want to die, oh God I don't want to die, please don't let him kill me!

But I'm not strong enough. I'm just not strong enough. And everything's going black now. I don't think I'll ever wake up.

***

Homesick - Part Four (Matt)
by Lizzie

***

Jeff's crying. He's sitting in the dining room, at the table, crying. He hasn't heard me come in. So I slip my bag down off my shoulder, leave it at the foot of the stairs and walk over to him.

I lay my hand over his shoulder and he flinches, turns and looks up at me with red, puffy eyes, but he smiles and when he smiles his whole face lights up. Even looking like that he's beautiful. He's always beautiful. He knows what his smiles do to me.

I smile back and tug him to his feet, into my arms. I smooth back his hair, press my lips to his neck, hug him tightly to my chest. His arms go about my waist and he rests his head on my shoulder. But he's still crying. His tears are soaking into the shoulder of my shirt. I have to bite my lip to keep from kissing him senseless.

"Do you think the house smells funny?" he asks at last, just as I think I�m gonna lose my control and eat him whole. I sniff the air and shake my head. Even if I can�t smell anything and think this is probably just another of his weird paranoid delusions, I�m grateful for the distraction.

"Nope, doesn't smell any different to me", I tell him. "Why?"

He smiles again, against my neck. "Shane thought it smelled funny. Like something crawled under the porch and died".

I sniff again. "No, seriously, I don't smell anything". And I don't. It just smells like home to me, and I realise then just how glad I am to be home. Back home in the States, back home in Carolina, back home in Jeff's arms. I draw back slightly and kiss his forehead. It's slightly sticky, slightly red. Faintly I wonder what he's been doing.

"Shane came over?" I ask.

"Yeah, about four hours ago. I left him in the bath. I wouldn't go in there. I made a bit of a mess".

I roll my eyes and pass him my handkerchief as he sniffles. I roll my eyes again as he blows his nose on it and offers it back. Eventually he just drops it on the table, which is a complete mess. Looks like he's drilled a couple of holes in it with that power drill I gave him last Christmas. Okay so maybe that wasn't the best gift to give him, but I thought it might come in useful. Obviously it did, I just didn't figure on our dining room table being part of the equation.

"Don't worry about it", I say. "I'll clean up later. C'mon upstairs. I got you a present..."

His eyes light up as I say that, and he lets me take his hand, lead him to the stairs where I pick up my bag then we walk up together, hand-in-hand, to our room. Shane's clothes are in a pile next to the bed - I know they're his because of the hideous green Green Lantern shirt sitting on top. Almost the same colour as Jeff's hair is now. I dread to think what possessed him to dye it that colour. I'll have to see if I can persuade him to dye it blue again, or better yet, let it grow out and go blonde again. His natural hair colour's so much nicer, but for some reason he's got this thing about dyeing it.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and I put the bag next to him, pull the zipper open and dig around amongst my clothes. I start pulling them out and dropping them on the floor 'cause I can tell he's getting impatient and I am too. Not to mention the fact my heart's beating so fast it feels like I'm gonna pass out. I'm really excited, I can't help it.

And then I find it. The small package sitting right at the bottom of the bag, under absolutely everything. It just would be there, wouldn't it. I take it out and I pass it to him, seeing the curiosity flicker in his eyes.

"I thought you might like it", I say as he peels back the wrapping paper, pulls out his gift. It was hell to get through customs on the way back from my latest trip, structural engineering in Singapore. I must've been gone over a month and I feel guilty as hell as always for not telling Jeff goodbye. But I never can. It's just too hard to let go of him sometimes, because I don't ever want to leave him. But at the same time I know I have to, because there's no way Jeff could ever work. I work hard enough in a job that pays well enough that he doesn't have to work. It's the least I can do for him, after all he's done for me.

It's a knife. Not just any old knife - this one's special. He owns so many, but none like this. It's blue for a start, double-bladed, razor-sharp and a good eight inches long. The handle's in the shape of a dragon with an open mouth and silver teeth, little rubies for eyes. It's a magnificent thing - should be for the money it cost. But it's worth it to see the look on his face as he unwraps it, runs his hands over it. I wish I'd remembered to take the address of the guy who made it so I could personally write and thank him for how happy he's made my brother with that masterpiece of metalwork.

He turns it over in his hands, tracing the edge of one of the split blades with his fingertip, just hard enough to fetch blood. He looks up at me with this beaming smile on his face and holds out his hand to me. Without a second�s hesitation I take it in mine, pull it to my lips, my eyes on his as I lick the blood from the cut, suck lightly, taste the sharp copper tang of it on my tongue. His blood. Our blood. I�m so glad I�m home.

�I�ve missed you�, he says, leaning forward and pulling the tie from my hair, fanning it out over my shoulders in that way he does, running his fingers through it, tracing them over my scalp. I want to do the same with his, but I�ll just let him have a moment. It�s my way of telling him I�m sorry for taking off again without telling him where I�d be or when I�d be back. I know it kills him every time I do it, but it�s really the way it�s gotta be and I know he knows that, deep down.

�I missed you too�, I whisper.

�I wish you didn�t have to leave. It never feels like home without you here. I was homesick for you�.

�I wish I didn�t have to, too. But you know I have to�.

�Yeah, I know�.

And he does know. He appreciates what I do for him in his own way. But he loved me like I love him and it�s always hard for him when I�m not around. He�s not built to cope on his own.

�I really have to go to the bathroom, Jeff�, I tell him suddenly. I hadn�t realised I had to go, but suddenly I do. Probably that plane trip and the taxi ride. God, it took absolutely forever. I hate travelling, even if I know it�s a necessary evil.

He nods, looking down at his hands as he holds the knife. �I�m sorry, Matty, it�s such a mess in there��

�It�s okay�, I tell him, and I leave the room.

He�s right, the bathroom�s a total mess. There�s water and blood everywhere, towels strewn all over the floor, and he�s left Shane partially dismembered in the tub. I wish he�d stop doing that, but I guess he doesn�t really have any control over it. He�s never quite sure what to do when he�s done - I�ve always been the one to deal with that end of things. When I�m not here he doesn�t know what to do. That�s probably why Shane thought the house smelled funny. He�s intelligent and everything but Jeff�s just not equipped to deal with the world. He doesn�t get that it�s not a good idea to bury things in the back yard or to stuff them under the porch. I should make out a list every time I go away, but I don�t think he�d use it. It�s easier just to deal with it when I get back.

This is why I have to work. I work so hard, all over the world, just so I have enough money for us to keep this house and for Jeff to be okay here on his own. He has everything he could ever need - I see to that. He couldn�t work. I don�t want him to have to try. Because he�s special and special people shouldn�t have to work. He�s got a world all his own in this house, with me, with what he does, and I could never take that away from him. Not after everything he�s given me.

I walk back to the our bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind me. I don�t want to have to think about that just yet - I�ve got Jeff waiting for me. And he is waiting for me, lying on the bed, naked as the day he was born, toying with the knife on his belly, just over that delicious little trail of hair. He looks up at me as I lounge in the doorway, this wicked little smile on his face, and props himself up on one elbow.

�I think you�re a little overdressed, Matty�, he says. I�d have to agree.

Off comes my suit in record time, tossed into the pile with Jeff�s clothes and Shane�s clothes. I think I can see a leather vest poking out from under the bed, too, but I won�t ask about it just yet. I�ve got other things on my mind. Like my baby brother lying out on the bed like that, looking so inviting, almost good enough to eat�

�I love you�, he murmurs against my ear as I push into him. Just like I knew he would be, he�s already prepared. I smile and kiss his ear, suck at the lobe.

�I love you too�, I tell him as we begin to move together.

He�s still got Shane�s blood on his stomach. It�s dry and flaking off, but I know it�s there, marking him, so I have to rub it away even as I�m inside him. I can�t bear to know he�s been with anyone else. I�m fiercely protective of him and it makes me feel terrible that he�s been taking chances on his own while I�m away. I don�t want anything to happen to him. I just wish there could be a way to keep him safe when I�m not there. I can�t take him with me but I can�t stay either.

His fingernails graze my nipples, up my chest and over my neck, into my hair. I�m leaning over him, into him, hands braced either side of his shoulders, looking down into his eyes. He�s so beautiful - I wish I could keep him like this forever, never leave him, share his life with him, share our lives. It would be so perfect, just like him. Maybe one day I�ll have made enough money to retire and then we�ll be able to live together, just us together, for the rest of our life, and I�ll never have to leave him again. That�s all I want.

Because I love him. I love him so much. I always have. And he loves me. It�s so incredible knowing he loves me too, because I never dreamt he could. The day I told him I thought he was going to hate me, but I had to tell him, and then he was kissing me like he�s kissing me now and telling me he loved me too. He gave the me the greatest gift anyone�s ever given me - he gave me his love, he let me into his heart, he gave me himself completely. Just like I gave him myself. We belong to each other. Now I owe him the best life I can possibly give him.

I fit inside him like we were made to be together, and I think maybe we were. No one understands me like Jeff does, and no one understands him like me. He couldn�t survive without me, I know that. I think he knows it too, and I kinda like that he knows. Because he�s gotta know that I couldn�t survive without him either. I have to be in control because he needs me, but without him I don�t know what I�d do.

I come inside him, bring him over with me, and we lie there together, side by side, in each other�s arms. He�s holding me just as much as I�m holding him and that�s exactly the way it�s meant to be. Even as he puts the knife to my throat.

�Jeff, what are you doing?� I don�t understand. I don�t know why he�s doing this. I need to know.

�You can�t leave me again, Matty�, he says, moving so he�s sitting astride my hips. �I don�t think I can cope with you leaving again. You can�t leave. But you will. So I have to do this, do you see? I�ve been practicing, Matty. It�ll be okay, really. I know what to do. It�ll be perfect. You just have to trust me�.

�You know you can�t live without me, don�t you?� I ask.

He nods. �I know. I don�t want to. I just want to be with you�.

I smile.

He slides the tip of the knife into the hollow at the base of my neck, just the tip, the metal cold in my skin, and I shudder. I have to fight to keep still, to keep from bucking up against him, to keep from trying to shove him away. I want to and maybe I think I should, but I really shouldn�t. I can�t. I just can�t.

�You�re gonna have to tie me up, Jeff�, I tell him, still shuddering. �I don�t want to hurt you. Please. Tie me up�.

He nods, reaches down off the bed, pulls up his restraints. I lie there bleeding as he fastens them around my wrists, around my ankles, to the posts of the bed. And I feel better then. I know I won�t hurt him now.

�I love you, Matt�, he whispers as he drills through my hands, whispering the words over and over, and through the tears in my eyes I can see his lips moving. I can�t hear - the drill and my screams are too loud for that. I can�t keep myself from screaming. It just hurts so much. All I can do is nod. I know he loves me. I know it.

He licks the blood pooling by my neck, I see it smeared over his lips, and he leans up to kiss me. I kiss back, taste my blood in his mouth like I have so many times before, know this is the last time.

�I love you, Jeff�, I tell him. He smiles, brushes the hair back from my cheek. I can feel the screws in my hands as I flex them - all I want is to hold him one last time, but I can�t. So he holds me instead, lies down by my side, twines his arms around my waist, lays his head on my chest.

�It�ll be okay�, he coos, tracing circles around my bellybutton, leaving little lines of my blood.

�I know�, I say. �I won�t leave you ever again. Use the knife, Jeff�.

�Just give me a little while� want to listen to your heartbeat��

I smile as everything starts to go black.

***

Homesick - Part Five (Jeff)
by Lizzie

***

My brother�s taken care of me my whole life. He�s done everything he could for me. He�s always been there, always loved me unconditionally, always tried to make my life everything I wanted it to be. He�s given me everything. Now he�s finally mine, body and soul. Forever.

I didn�t think it would ever happen �cause he just kept on leaving me. He had to, I know that, because it was his job and that�s the only way he had to give me everything I needed. I just wish he hadn�t had to go away all the time because all I really wanted was to be near him. I�ve never really understood why he couldn�t take me with him, either. I accept that he couldn�t because that�s what he always told me, but I never really understood. Maybe he thought I�d be too much of a distraction. I guess I would.

But I can�t let him leave me again. It tears me apart every time I walk into the house and find that he�s not there, because I know he�s gone away and I never know where he�s gone or when he�ll be back. Then I have to stay home alone, waiting for him. Except I get impatient and I have to find people to pass the time with. But they�d leave me too. So I had to make them stay.

Matt showed me what to do. He�s been doing it since he was about eighteen I think, so he�s had practice. I didn�t start �til I was twenty, just four years ago. It�s not long enough. I was nowhere near as good as Matt even if I did it twice or three times as often as he did. I had more experience but I was messy. God, I was so messy. I�d get blood and gore all over and I didn�t know what to do with it so I�d just have to wait �til Matt got home and have him clear it up. Trying to do it myself is always a mess. I don�t know what to do. I�m just so awkward and I put things in the wrong place and everything goes wrong, then, patient as he always is with me, I�d see Matt getting mad at me. I don�t want him to be mad. I just do things wrong and I wish I didn�t but I can�t do things on my own like he can.

I love him so much. I think I always have in a way, and I was just so relieved the day he told me. It made me all warm inside like I hadn�t been in years, maybe my whole life, and suddenly I was complete. But only until he went away that first time, �cos then I didn�t know what to do. Even then I started to plan, started to wonder if there was a way I could make him stay.

Things are so great when he�s with me. We�ll stay in bed all day or we�ll go walking together or he�ll take me out in his car or I�ll take him out on my bike and everything�ll be great. We�ll pick someone up and we�ll take them home, and afterwards Matt�ll cook. He�s a great cook. He always knows exactly what to do. I wish I could be more like him, do things for him. It seems like all I do is cause him trouble, make him have to spend half his life away from me because I can�t look after myself. He doesn�t like being away from me, and I like it even less. I�m not in control. It feels like my heads spinning and I can�t think straight �til he�s here again. I do stupid things. I make a mess. I don�t want to but I can�t help myself.

So that�s why I have to make him stay. I want us to be together, always. This is the only way we can be. He understands.

I�ve practiced for months now. I�ve tried everything I could think of. I think I�ve been quite creative, trying to find the way to do it. And I�ve met some interesting people. Like Mark - he was a nice guy. Really tall and really strong, and he seemed to like me. Hunter too - I wish I�d had longer to get to know him, but he can�t leave me now and he helped me� Shane I knew for a long time, taught me I couldn�t do it that way. It was far too messy. He�ll never get cleaned up. I�m sorry about that. Then there�s Adam, Jay, Chris� Scott too. Matt helped with them. I think maybe he had an idea what I was doing, but he never said anything. I�m glad he didn�t. It would�ve spoiled the surprise.

I�m glad he didn�t fight me. That wouldn�t have been right. It was thoughtful of him to tell me to tie him up - I didn�t really want to do it, but he was right. He might�ve tried to hurt me, and that wouldn�t have been good. I didn�t want to have to hit him or hold him down and I should�ve known that he wouldn�t be able to control himself while I did it. No one could, I think. I hadn�t thought about that.

I screwed his hands to the bedposts. I cut him open from his throat all the way down to his belly, spread his blood out over my fingers, licked at the edges of the wounds, kissed his cooling mouth. He screamed for a start and I didn�t want to gag him so I just let him scream. Then he stopped. He bit down on his lip to keep from screaming because he knew I didn�t want him to scream. I could see the blood trickling down over his chin, pooling in the wound at his throat. He looked so pretty. I was glad I hadn�t done it in the tub. It was better this way.

The knife he�d bought me was perfect. I�d had another in mind, but this was better. It cut so cleanly, the designs on it were so fine, and it didn�t slip even when it was covered in blood. He always bought me the best gifts. I felt him take his last breath as I plunged the knife into his heart, and I felt sad then, though I don�t know why. He�ll be with me forever now. This was the only way.

Now there�s only a little left to do.

I pry the screws out of his hands, and I feel a little sad when the end of the knife bends slightly. I place it on the nightstand and run my fingers over it, feeling the warm steel and thanking him again. Then I lie down and pull his arms around me. He feels a little different now, heavier, but it�s okay. He�s still my Matt. Then I reach over and take the knife in my hand, run it first over one wrist then the other, feel the bite of the steel in my skin and in my veins. It�s almost over. Then we�ll be together forever.

�I love you, Matt�, I whisper, and even though I know he can�t say it back, he feels it. He loves me so much. Like I love him. I could never live without him. I wouldn�t want to.

And I�m getting cold now, stroking back his hair and frowning when I get my blood over his face. I try to wipe it away but it�s staining him and I just whimper because I haven�t got the strength to do anything about it. But it doesn�t really matter, I�m just being silly. He won�t mind a little bit of blood. He never did.

So I lay my head on his chest and I close my eyes. It�s all going to be okay now. Because we�ll always be together.

***
End
***