John's Journal 3

Closet

by Cynical_Coat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asc/ccoat/jjournal03.php
Summary: John writes in his journal as any wounded romantic does, without reserve

My mind is two by four by eight.

Two feet wide.

Four feet deep.

Eight feet high.

And shrinking...

My mind has three walls and a door...

My mind is a closet.

A forgotten storage space filled with old pain and older fear.

My mind is a closet.

And it's starting to smell...

The hinges are rusted.

If I ever get up the courage to open the door, it's gonna screech like all the bat's of hell that wait for men like me...

It's better if I just leave it closed...

That seems to be the plan anyway...

I sent him away.

He came to me, as a friend, for comfort.

For friendship.

For a little reminder of home.

And I sent him away.

I shut him out with some vulgar innuendo about having some woman waiting for me... I don't remember.

Anything to deny the fact that just seeing him made me hard.

All he wanted was someone to sit with, to talk to... all he wanted was the friend I'm supposed to be.

But I sent him away.

Because I shouldn't want him like this.

And I can't love him.

Because no matter how many guys I've fucked, no matter how many DADT one night stands I've initiated...

I'm as much in the closet as he is.

No one knows.

It's not in any file.

As far as they know, I'm still trying to trip Teyla or Weir into my seemingly notorious bed.

Everyone thinks it.

I know that from how quickly he bought my lame little story.

As though he had already known that that would be the case.

But the truth...?

The truth is almost as sad.

The whole time we've been here, there's only been one person in my bed.

Me.

Just me and my right hand, doing the solo tango in the night...

And thinking of him...

I sent him away.

All I had to do was let him in.

I didn't have to tell him tonight...

I don't *have* to tell him ever...

All I have to do is let him in...

He's a smart guy.

He'll figure it out eventually.

My past experiences tell me that that can only hurt.

Both of us.

So why wait?

Why prolong the torture of knowing it can only get worse?

Why wait when I can hurt us both now when it really is nothing and get it over with?

...

Because I want to let him in.

To have at least that much before he's gone.

Because I'm selfish.

And self-destructive.

I'm an asshole, and--

And, fuck...

I'm in love.

Dammit... I told myself I wouldn't let this happen... again...

Not that it ever works that way...

***

Carson rubbed at his aching eyes and glanced at the clock. Far past the hour when sensible folk were fast asleep.

He didn't want to be reading this... any of this.

He didn't want to watch in his minds eye as Sheppard bled onto the page, baring his heart and soul to what must have been his only companion for years... the man was nearly a poet. A writer.

Carson felt for him... but his first plan had failed.

Maybe sending Rodney unannounced and unprepared hadn't been the best plan...

Well... there was always next time...

~fin~

Next: Skin