MichaelOwnsMe (foreverbm) wrote in qaf_drabbles, @ 2008-06-06 18:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: foreverbm, challenge #69: season 3 |
challenge #69 - Season 3
Title: Taking Control (Parts 1 - 8)
Author: Foreverbm
Timeline: Season 3 steroid arc
Pairing: Ben and Michael
A/N: One of my many takes on the steroid storyline arc.
Condom: 8 to Vic
I watched, hidden in the shadows, as he pulled a needle from his gym bag. This wasn’t the first time I had done this, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. He was too intent on what he was doing to realize I was there. I didn’t want him to see me, or perhaps I did. Then at least it would be out in the open, we could discuss what he was doing and why. But that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t Ben when that shit was pumping through his veins, nothing I could have said would have reached him.
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His mood swings were getting worse, I dreaded him arriving home, the silences that filled the room as we sat together, but seemingly apart, were driving a wedge deeper between us as each day passed. The tenderness and love that had filled our lives up until a month ago had all but disappeared. A peck on the cheek, a hurried goodbye, another broken promise was all I received now. He couldn’t look me in the eye, which gave me a glimmer of hope that the Ben I loved was fighting to overcome the Ben who thought steroids would cheat death.
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I must have made a noise because his eyes darted towards the door. I held my breath as the seconds passed, expecting him to ask what I was doing spying on him, but he turned back to the needle, the sound of his nail flicking against the glass vial the only sound to be heard. Another chance to confront him had passed, cowardice once again taking hold of me.
I walked quietly away, not wanting to watch as he injected himself, knowing that the poison filling his body would do nothing to stop the disease that was part of him.
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I could accept that but he thought it was going to kill him as it had Paul. Didn’t he know he was nothing like Paul?
Had he forgotten that; along with all the words he once told me about not regretting the past or fearing the future, about living in the now; in his misguided need to become some sort of Superman.
I reached our bedroom and climbed onto the bed, sitting quietly, wrapping my arms around my knees, waiting for him to find me. I knew he would, if only to tell me he was going to the gym.
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His second home now, the home that gave him what he wanted, that he cared about more than he cared about me. I gave myself a mental shake. Sitting here wallowing in self pity because I did not have the balls to confront him was not the answer. I knew what was, but did I have the strength to do it?
“Michael, I’m going to the gym” His words brought me back to the present. I looked at him, his bulked up frame filling the doorway, his eyes dark, no emotion showing on his face, and I made my decision.
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I climbed slowly off the bed, ignoring him and walked to the wardrobe, stretching up to reach the case on the top shelf. I finally managed to get it down and carried it to the bed, unzipping it quickly. I could feel his eyes boring into me but I ignored him filling the case with bare essentials as I waited for him to say something.
I walked to the door, pushing past him, heading to the bathroom, my eyes drawn to the empty vial in the trash can, which made my resolve to do what I must deepen even more.
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I grabbed what I thought I would need and walked back to our room. He hadn’t moved, but I thought I saw a look of realization in his eyes.
I zipped up the case, hauled it off the bed and walked to the doorway, stopping in front of him, looking him in the eye, waiting for him to say the words I wanted to hear. The silence was deafening. I mentally counted off the seconds, the minutes my eyes never leaving his face. I could see that he was struggling with what he wanted to say, and finally he spoke.
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“I’m off to the gym.”
He walked away, his body language showing me that although those were the words that had passed his lips; they were not what he wanted to say. One day I hoped he’d say them. Until then he’d have to fight his demons alone. I was done with being his verbal punching bag. I loved him, but I didn’t like him at the moment. Perhaps he felt the same about me. What happened now was in his hands. I hoped that my decision would make him choose a path that would not keep us apart forever.