"My mind won’t shut up about you."

pg-13 | dark au | warning: brief mention of blood, but nothing serious.

a/n: I'm not sure what this is, to be honest. Just something that sprang to mind yesterday.
You can consider a short sequel to House of Cards, but it can also stand alone.

I lie on the bed until it is dark outside, the only light coming from the moon. I stare at the ceiling, feeling the cold crawling inside my bones, making me shiver.

My mind won’t shut up about you, hasn’t ever since we met all those years ago. Over and over on a loop, and now it won’t ever stop.

The clock’s sound is loud in the otherwise quiet room, and I want to get up and smash it. I hate the painful reminder that you are late once again, I hate the thoughts that always creep into my head when you do, the doubts and questions and ‘he did it once, who says he won’t do it again?’.

I force these thoughts away and focus on anything but them.

I want to call, ask when you will be home. I want to walk with you everywhere, protect you from everyone and everything, from myself.

I want to do a lot of things but I shouldn’t. One more push and you will be angry, or worse, tired of me.

Sometimes I wonder why you are still here. Are you entertained by my torments? Afraid of what I will do if you leave?

Do you still love me?

When I look at my hands in the dark, I can almost see the blood again. I remember the scared look on your face and my heartbeat quickens. The blood nightmares stopped but the ones where you leave never do.

I close my eyes and listen. I imagine you walking, hands buried in your coat to keep from the cold, steam floating in front of you as you speed up. It is late and you don’t like to keep me waiting.

Or maybe you do. Maybe you are taking your time, knowing that I’m waiting, that I can’t sleep without you here, and you enjoy it.

I’m trying to stop thinking like this, but I can’t.

You won’t pick up the phone. Later, you will say you didn’t see my texts, and it was on mute. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I don’t know if I can trust you.

I’m up as soon as I hear a sound outside. I find you in the living room, shrugging out of your coat, humming a tune. Always without a thing troubling you, I envy that.

I take a couple of steps and wait. You turn around and blink, hazy eyes focusing. You grin, slow and lazy, and I’m distracted briefly by how beautiful you look.

You go inside and I follow. I help you change, while your hands run through my hair.

We sit down. The alcohol on your breath is making my skin itch. I’m grinding my teeth and staring at your hands and imagining them around my throat. You smile and you look at me, expectant, and I can’t help but reach forward and kiss you.

I hate how much I need you. I hate how much you don’t need me, not like how I do.

You mumble an apology between kisses - something about a celebration - even though you know I won’t talk about this in the morning, you wrap your arms around my neck and whisper sweet nothings until you fall asleep.

I lie awake, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, watching the expressions in your face change; the frown that crosses your face briefly before it disappears, the little smile that comes and goes.

Something is giving me hope and I want to set it alight because I know that it isn’t real, that it will destroy me once again like it did before. I think It’s your skin or the light in your eyes.

You reach out in the darkness for me. Your fingers touch my chest. I hold it and kiss the palm of your hand. Your eyes flutter open briefly, and you snuggle closer to me.

I close my eyes and breathe your scent. The moonlight shines and the heat of your body next to me burns like a fire.