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Title: Nothing Without You
Author: Lizzie
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: Yet another R. One of these days I�ll get back up to a nice NC-17, I swear.
Content: Hmm. Death, blood, mention of violence, mention of m/m sex, oh and incest.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and unless I wake up one morning having mysteriously become Vince McMahon, I doubt they ever will be. Damn, that's a scary thought.
Distribution: Not that you're likely to want it, but if you do, just tell me where.
Summary: Matt/Jeff fic except Jeff�s dead. You�ll see what I mean. From Matt�s POV.
Notes: Wrote this in two and a half hours while I�d been kicked off the computer and couldn�t work on the next instalment of the Possession series. Damn that Raven-muse, he�s as loud as ever. I thought I�d gagged him. And I claim all mistakes in this fic as my own as I have no beta reader. *g*

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Nothing Without You
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You were only twenty-three when you died. Just a couple of months shy of your twenty-fourth birthday. We had it all planned, from the flavour of the cake to the colour of the balloons to the guest list to the songs we wanted the band to play. You were so excited. I remember how you were practically bouncing off the walls for days while we made the arrangements and you were actually crossing off the days on the calendar with a thick red magic marker. You�d even picked out a special new shirt you wanted to wear that was going to set me back about a hundred bucks. It came mail-order three days after you died. When the police released your body I gave the shirt to the undertakers to make sure you got to wear it at least once.

The house is mostly empty without you. It�s too big for me to live in by myself but I can�t sell it. I have too many memories of us here, and I don�t know if it would stay the same if I moved. I don�t want to forget a single thing about you. And while I�m not here I always wonder if there�s some perfect memory of you hiding out in my head that I can�t quite remember because I�m missing the right smell or the right sound that I can only find at home. I have to take a stack of photos of you with me everywhere I go too, because I�m so scared that I�m going to forget the way you smiled or the exact colour of your eyes. I just know there�s so much I must have forgotten already. I drive myself insane at night lying in bed thinking that one day I�m going to forget one of those special things that made you you, or thinking that maybe I already have.

Then there�s some things I remember, only I�m not really sure if I�m remembering something that happened or just something I wanted to. Like the time we shared a pint of ice-cream on the swing on the back porch then I fell asleep with you in my arms and when you woke me up with a kiss you still tasted like Rocky Road. Or the time we staying up all night just talking in your room then you went silent and just held me as we watched the sunrise. They�re two of the best memories of my life, and I don�t even know it they�re real. I don�t know anything anymore.

Except that I loved you. And I still do. I�m going to love you my whole life just like I promised I would, and when I die I�m still going to love you. No matter what. No matter where we wind up. That�s one thing I remember � the day you asked me if I thought we�d go to hell for what we felt and what we did. I didn�t have an answer. I don�t think you expected me to, either. You just wanted to be sure that I knew what you�d go through to be with me. Because I know you loved me too. And I know that no matter what you�re always going to love me. Sometimes that�s all I have to get me through the day.

You see, you died too young. It wasn�t your time. God, that�s such a clich�, but it�s so true. It wasn�t supposed to be your time. You weren�t supposed to go before me. First we were supposed to grow old together and then I was supposed to go. Because I�m the oldest. And I always knew my life would be nothing without you anyway. And it is, you know. Nothing. It�s absolutely nothing. Because my whole world was you. When you died, my whole world went away.

***

You left me. I wasn�t even here to say goodbye. You�d been home for a week with stomach flu or something that basically made you throw up once every few hours and had you virtually bedridden. I was in Texas for Raw and Smackdown most of the week and when I got home you were dead.

But you didn�t leave me alone. Well, not really. You left me empty, sure, but not alone. There was always someone there who was trying to fill the space you left in my heart. It�s not his fault that he never has. It�s not his fault that he never will.

He�d been chasing me or whatever the hell you want to call it for months, and your death gave him the opportunity to move in on me. I wasn�t in any state to resist, and he knew it. So he got me. We�re together now. I don�t honestly know if he�s trying to be a substitute you, but if he is then he�s not doing a very good job. He�s nothing like you. He never will be. For starters he�s way older than you were. He doesn�t dye his hair wacky colours. He�s nowhere near as much fun. He�ll never be as beautiful as you or as perfect for me. And one big point � he�s not my baby brother.

That was one of the things that made us special. We were brothers. The bond we shared was more than emotional, more than physical � it was in our blood. It was in everything we were. We knew each other better than anyone and sometimes better than we knew ourselves. We never had to put on an act or pretend like we were something we weren�t. We were honest. Everything we ever did or said came naturally to us. There was never any need for lies and there was never a threat of betrayal. Everything we were was for each other. I lived for you.

We were in love. We had to hide it in public because we knew what people would think, and I know that hurt you. You wanted everyone to know how in love we were, how perfect it was. Because aside from public opinion of what we had, what we had was perfect. It�s like having a lover who�s more like the missing part of yourself than another person. Every moment I was with you I just felt so content, like I was whole and not some broken-down half person, and I know you felt the same. I wish we could have been able to share that with our friends, with anyone who knew us, because it was just so amazing. But they would have thought it was wrong. I�ll never understand how one type of love can be celebrated and rejoiced while another has to be hidden. It�s not right and it�s not fair and I guess that�s human nature.

But when we were alone it was perfect. We were so close that half the time we didn�t need to talk to know what each other was thinking. But we did talk. Almost constantly. About any little thing that crossed our minds. It�s an amazing thing to know you can say anything and the person that you�re saying it to will never ever think any less of you no matter what it was. And I loved to hear you talk. Not for the words themselves, but for the look on your face and the tone of your voice as you hit something you loved. Like wrestling, or bikes, or even deciding what colour you were going to dye your hair next. You were never more beautiful than when you were talking about something you loved.

Unless you count how you looked while we were making love, because you were always so beautiful then. You�d be slick with sweat and smiling and staring straight into my eyes and I�d just know that that moment was the happiest you�d ever had. And knowing that made me happy too, because it was me that made you feel that way. We made you happy. Lying beneath me, screaming my name while I was inside of you, you looked as beautiful as anyone has ever looked.

Not that I think you weren�t happy when we weren�t in bed, because I don�t. I know better. What we had didn�t have to be physical, it was so strong for so long without ever going beyond a hug or a held hand. I�m grateful it did, though. It gave me a chance to show you physically how I felt inside. And you showed me right back. Sex with you really was more than just sex. It was making love. It was throwing all of our emotions together and burning in the heat. Not many people in this world can honestly say they�ve given themselves completely to another. That�s what we did every time we were together.

***

I lived for you. For the longest time you were the only thing that meant anything to me. I loved you more than I�ve ever loved anyone and more than I�ve ever loved myself. For the longest time you were everything to me, but then you were gone. I didn�t think I had anything else to live for.

Except I had him. He�s the only one who understood how I felt. Because he was the only one who knew. About us, I mean. He knew. I didn�t even have to tell him, it was like he just saw us together and saw what was between us. He�s intuitive like that. He knows so many things that I�ve never told him. Just like he knew what I was planning the day I thought I was going to kill myself. He came to my room and he stopped me. I didn�t want him to and mostly I wish he hadn�t, but he did. I�m alive because of him. He�s the only thing that�s keeping me from trying again. Because he watches me like a hawk. Or like a Raven.

So now I live for him. I�m not going to be coy about it � I don�t have you to live for anymore and if I can�t kill myself then I need something. And the only thing I have is him.

But I don�t love him. I�m never going to love him. He could never ever take your place no matter how much I know he wants to. You were everything to me. He�s just the one last thread that�s keeping me from suicide. But I live for him. Because there�s nothing else and because I have no choice.

I know other people would like to try to give me something to live for. Vince McMahon tried to help me by handing me the IC title. Some of the guys tried to help me by taking me out for drinks and generally not leaving me alone. Some of the girls tried to help me by setting me up on pointless blind dates. I did my best for them and I appreciate what they were trying to do, but none of that stuff was worth living for without you. And they were mostly hollow attempts anyway because they were scared to death of getting too close. You know why? Because he�s there. He�s always there. And they�re scared to death of him.

Everyone knows we�re a couple. I don�t go out of my way to let everyone know, but I don�t have to because he does. I think he makes a point of it. And why shouldn�t he? He�s gone through enough to get me. I don�t blame him for showing me off or marking his territory or whatever it is you want to call what he does.

Although the main reason he does it has to be to show me off. Or at least his handiwork. He beats me black and blue and seems to like people to know it. He likes to show off the scars the cuffs have made on my wrists, the bruises on my back and chest and neck. It�s like it�s he way of claiming me, I don�t know. The same way as he sees the bruises he has me put on him claim him as mine. And I guess in a twisted way he is because he did all this for me, but somehow I just can�t seem to care.

And I think he loves me. I honestly think he does. At least he thinks he does, and he�s convinced himself he does because I don�t think he has anything left to live for either. His lover died about two months before you did, and I think that left him as empty as your death left me. That�s why he came after me. He chose me to be his substitute Stevie.

Only there was a problem with his plan. You see, when he wanted me back then he couldn�t have me. He asked me to dinner and I politely declined. He asked me a couple more times after a couple more shows and I had to admit that I was involved with someone. A couple more come-ons and I was telling him I was seriously involved. But he wouldn�t take no for an answer, he just kept bugging me. And I�m not going to pretend like I wasn�t flattered, because he�s a stunning guy. But I was with someone. I was with you. And eventually I made it clear that there was no way I was ever going to leave you. He seemed to accept that and it definitely made things easier at work. I guess I just never noticed how closely he was watching us.

***

You looked so beautiful in your casket. It was a sort of metallic grey, not silver but the colour of storm clouds, y�know? And the lining was white satin. You were almost as white as it was, and just as cold as the casket when I touched you, when I pressed my lips to your forehead and said goodbye. I wondered if you could feel it, then I realised how stupid that was. You weren�t there anymore. None of that stuff that made you who you were was there anymore. You were gone and all that was left was your body, ready to rot in the ground. That thought made me sick. You wouldn�t be beautiful for much longer. Except that wasn�t really you, because the real you would be beautiful forever.

But you really did look beautiful as you lay there. You were pale and motionless, your eyes closed, lying on the bed of white satin in your new blue hundred-dollar shirt. It clashed with your purple hair but that didn�t matter, because if fit you so well, hugging your chest and stomach, and I almost couldn�t tell that you�d lost any weight from the flu. Just like you couldn�t tell that the wounds that killed you were just underneath the shirt. And besides, you never matched anyway. I think you prided yourself on all those clashing outfits, so it was only fitting you be buried in one. One you would�ve been wearing the day you turned twenty-four. Only you never did and you never will.

I cried as they lowered you into the ground and I didn�t care who saw. I�d lost my brother and it was okay for me to cry. But there was one person there who really understood what I�d lost. Raven did. He tugged on my shoulder and pulled me into his arms at your graveside and I was so overwhelmed by it all that I couldn�t pull away. I couldn�t believe what was happening. In you I�d lost me brother, my best friend and my lover all in one fell swoop. And the one person I didn�t want to see was the one person who knew enough to comfort me.

I didn�t know what to do after the funeral, but that didn�t matter because he bundled me into his car and drove me home in silence. He didn�t even bother me to ask directions. And when we got there he asked if he could come in. I nodded and he followed me inside. I shrugged when he asked me if he could take a look around � it wasn�t like he�d never been there before. I watched him as he wandered up the stairs and then I followed him.

�Did you expect me today at the funeral?� he asked, pushing his hair back behind one ear as he took a seat on your bed. Our bed. The bed we�d shared for years.

All I could do in reply was nod. My throat was dry and I didn�t trust my voice not to break. But it was still a reply. And a truthful one, because I had expected him. I�d hoped he wouldn�t show but I�d known he would. He couldn�t not because he�d gone to so much trouble just for me. He needed to be with me. I was his now.

�Were you pleased to see me?�

I nodded again, this time not so truthful. I know I only told him that to keep him happy. I could see his eyes light up as I nodded. His question had been so nervous it was almost painful. But I wasn�t pleased to see him. I just couldn�t tell him that because I didn�t know how he�d react if I told the truth, and I didn�t want to find out.

He smiled, and he held out his arms to me. And I went to him. I sat down next to him feeling as hollow and empty as I�d ever felt. It was like I wasn�t even there anymore, like the afternoon heat wasn�t touching me because I was cold inside and I didn�t care that he was there anymore. I didn�t even feel any more alive when he kissed me, because it was a physical reaction not an emotional one. No one�s ever going to make me feel the way you did, especially not him. And not even as he undressed me, fucked me in our bed. I couldn�t take my eyes off the bloodstain that was still on the mattress the whole time he was inside me. That stain�s never going to come out. And every time I see it it�s just going to remind me of you.

***

I couldn�t believe what I was seeing when I came home that day. I called to you when I walked through the door but you didn�t answer so I figured you were either asleep or throwing up upstairs, so I went up to our room. The door was closed. I opened it. I wish I hadn�t.

You were lying there, your wrists slashed, bleeding to death on the bed. I don�t even know if you were dead or alive then and it�s probably best I never know. There was blood everywhere. It was on the sheets and it was dripping from your wrist as it hung over the edge of the bed, dripping onto the floor where there was a pool that I was almost standing in. I gagged and nearly fell into the pool at my feet. You were dead. I�d lost you. I�d gone away from you for a week then come back and found you�d done this.

Because I thought you�d done it to yourself. For a second I really thought you�d killed yourself.

I died in the moment I realised you were dead. In that moment I lost everything in my life that was worth living for. I lost the only thing I ever really cared about and I died inside.

I didn�t even care anymore when I turned and saw Raven sitting in the chair by the window, the knife in his hands. I just shivered a little then turned back to you, sat by you for a while as he watched me.

Then I called the police. They decided he�d killed himself. There wasn�t any evidence otherwise. I didn�t see any reason to turn him in. After all, if you were gone then nothing else mattered to me. So I let him get away with killing you.

***

I�m sorry he killed you. You know that I wouldn�t have let him do it if I�d known. I didn�t want you to die. You were everything to me. I didn�t want you to leave me.

But you did. And now you�re gone it�s like I�m not really living anymore, I�m just watching my life go by from outside, like this isn�t really me. And it isn�t. Because you know you were the missing part of me. I�m nothing without you, Jeff. Nothing.

You were the only thing that made me whole. You were the only thing that made me happy. I just want you to know that wherever you are and however far apart we are, however long I�m here without you, I�ll always love you. Always. Don�t you ever, ever forget that.

So here I am with the man who killed you. He did this to you to get to me, and that�s what makes me sad. It�s my fault you�re dead, Jeff. Because he wanted me, you�re dead. So now I�m with him. And I know I�ll be with him until he does the same thing to me as he did to you.

***
End
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