Lost in Translation.

"Do you still love me?"

Fazzi is quiet, and it’s an odd quiet. A contemplative quiet.

"You're still in love with me, aren't you?" A smirk starts to crawl on Adam’s face, and he slides closer to Fazzi. “You’re—“

A smack resonates within the room, and Adam cups his red cheek, his eyes shocked and watery, at the force behind it.

In all of their time together, Fazzi's never laid a hand on him.Serves him right, because they’re not really together now, are they?

Fazzi stands there, his hand poised in mid-air, a fusion of sadness, guilt, anger, and nervousness scribbled onto his gorgeous face.

They both stare at each other, before lunging forward, wrapping each other in a lusty embrace, where mouths clash and hands fumble around the tops of jeans. Fazzi gets pushed to the living room wall, where Adam drops to his knees, nuzzling Fazzi's stomach, before pulling his pants/boxers down in one motion.

"Want this." Adam mouths hot and wet into Fazzi's neck, before messing the belt of his jeans.

"Then do it." Fazzi glares, yanking Adam’s head back, and kissing him.

It's just hard, raw fucking, with Fazzi pinned against the wall, his hands gripping the back of Adam’s head so hard, he thinks little tufts of hair might spiral downward if he were to release his fists. Blood is smeared on the bottom of Adam’s lip, where he bit too hard in their hasty clashing of words, but he knows Adam doesn't care.

Adam's face is buried into Fazzi's neck, grunting and muffling whatever indecencies he can think of, his hand hooked firmly under Fazzi's knee, and the other at his lower back, pushing them closer together. Fazzi yanks sharply at the back of Adam’s head, kissing him hard and angry and bittersweet, all three of which do not register on Adam’s Scale of Human Emotions.

Fazzi knows this. He knows this so hard, and he wants Adam to feel some sort of physical pain, but he knows that no amount of pain shared in this moment will ever amount to the emotional turmoil of being sick and tired of feeling angry and resentful at yourself, because you realized an infallible truth, and it wasn't what you wanted, nor expected. And you spend every waking moment blaming everybody else for your denial, when you know you just need to submerge yourself in the icy depths of reality. And you don't want to do it, because everything is so perfect and taking that away, is like taking what's most important in your fake, constructed utopia, it's like taking away the safety and security, and replacing it with an immovable susceptibility. And when the truth comes knocking back, full circle, to bite you in the ass, it doesn't just get you anywhere, it gets you in the innermost pits of your vulnerability. It feels—

It's.

It feels like no other.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is real pain.

And while Fazzi wouldn't dare inflict that kind of real pain on Adam, he's content with lying on the sort of fictionalized pain, like the pulling of hair, or the bruising of hipbones, or Adam’s teeth breaking the skin on his neck.

Adam's panting gets heavier, and the upward curvature of his thrusts become more forceful, and he doesn't care. Adam's lip is slightly bruised, and bleeding, and he's pretty positive there are thumb marks on his neck from where Fazzi is gripping onto him, but he doesn't care either. Because in these ten minutes, they're both getting what they want.

Adam lets out some sort of low noise, and he stills, before gazing up at Fazzi with brown, imploring eyes. Fazzi looks away, reaching between them to pull up his pants.

Adam watches, like a movie unfurling in his mind, and it's complete déjà vu of when Fazzi walked away from him the first time. If he can help it, he's not about to let him go now.

But somehow, he can't move. He can't call out, he just stands and gazes, as Fazzi walks to the door.

"Just so you know, I hate you." Fazzi begins slowly, turning the door knob. "Some part of me always will hate you, because you're letting me walk away from you for the second time in a row."

"Fazzi—"

"No." Fazzi turns to Adam, staring. "I fucking hate you, but I love you so much." He sighs, turning back to the door. "And I suppose if I wait long enough, the part that loves you will eat away at everything else."

"So, you do love me."

"Adam." Fazzi inhales deeply, looking upwards. "I love you, but I never want to see your face again. You need to stay out of my life, right now." He opens the door a tiny bit. "I know those are pretty big words, and maybe someday, I'll take it all back, but right now you need to just stay away, before I give you the chance to destroy me."

"I would never—" Adam looks horrified.

"I know you like the back of my hand." Fazzi chuckles, looking down at his shoes. "You’re going to destroy me sooner or later, and I just want to make sure my heart is strong enough to handle that." He glances back to Adam. "Because it's not right now."

"So that's it?" Adam asks. "You're leaving because you're afraid I'm going to break your heart?"

"It's so much more than that."

Adam tiredly rubs his hands over his face. He just wants Fazzi to come back. He just wants to be able to hear Fazzi squeal when he tickles him on the stomach, or watch him eat, or see his sleepy, morning smile combined with his hair that sticks up in thirty different places. He thought loving Fazzi would be enough, but it's not.

Fazzi just makes a weird breathing sound, before pulling the door open completely.

"Fazzi, don't go." Adam begs, biting his already bruised lip. "Please. Just…stay."

"I'm sorry." Fazzi shrugs, stepping outside into the warm, spring air. "You're the one who let me walk away."