My Paper Heart

It was the moaning. It drove him nearly insane. The constant moaning and groaning that always came from the next room. The moans that reminded Rory that he couldn’t have the only one he loved, the only one he ever wanted to love. And what was worse was the part where there was always a new day, a new boy, a new girl.

Not that he could complain. Some of the boys were pretty cute, big, brown doe eyes, and curly hair, and short.

Jace liked the short ones, that was obvious.

But sometimes, Rory couldn’t help but wonder if Jace noticed him. Well of course he was noticed, he was taking up precious space and air in Jace’s small flat, but he often wondered if Jace noticed him. More than just knew he was there. He wondered if Jace thought about him all the time, or made up silly poems, or thought of all the good things, just about Rory. That would have been nice, knowing that Jace had the same feelings.

“Oh. Jace, you didn’t tell me that you had a roommate. What’s his name?” a feminine voice asked. Rory whipped around in his spinny chair, shuffling his papers all together to hide the latest drawing of Jace he’d been working on.

Jace had one eyebrow raised and an arm wrapped around the person next to him. It was hard for Rory to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but knowing Jace’s pattern, it was most likely a boy.

“I’m Rory. Nice to meet you,” he said, rising from his chair and holding his hand out for the person to shake. Judging by the handshake, the person was a man.

Just as predicted.

“I’m Satin. Nice to meet you too, darling.” he said. Jace flashed Rory a smile and a wink, and as much as Rory wanted to return it, to be a part of Jace’s happiness at the current moment, he couldn’t. It just wasn’t there. Instead he felt hatred and jealousy at this man that just so brazenly intruded into his home and was now trying to take away the only man that Rory had ever loved, ever will love and--

“Are you alright, Rory? You’re shaking,” Jace said. The concern in his voice just barely registered in Rory’s mind.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to go to bed now. Try not to be as loud as you usually are, please.”

Rory stomped off to his room before his temper got the best of him. His temper always got the best of him, but not this time. As it was, the two couldn’t afford to pay for more patched walls with only Rory’s income. And the bitchy manager woman (or dragon as Jace and Rory liked to joke) wouldn’t tolerate more patches anyway. She’d throw them out the second Rory paged the maintenance man.

Once inside his own room, Rory slammed the door and just stood. He had no clue what to do about Jace. Jace wasn’t Rory’s to govern; he was twenty-two for God’s sake. He could make his own decisions and choose who to sleep with and who to completely ignore, even if that certain someone would give his life, his food, the clothes off of his fucking back for him. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered to Rory, so he could just shut his big fat mouth and stop worrying about what isn’t and never will be his.

Oh, but it mattered. It mattered to Rory because as long as he was living with Jace, he would never be free of the moaning, the groaning, the constant aching pain that his heart went through every single day without cease because he couldn’t have his beloved. Or maybe it was the pain that his beloved didn’t even know that he was loved.

Words played over and over in Rory’s mind, taunting him, making him believe more and more that maybe, just maybe if he could only just tell Jace, that Jace would stop right in the middle of fucking whomever-- let’s go with a pretty blonde this time. A girl. And nice cleavage-- and admit to Rory that he always thinks about Rory when he’s having sex. That’s what gets him off. All the people, they’re nothing but Rory-Replacers.

Because that would happen.

The very tone of his own mental sarcasm made Rory collapse on his bed.

But no tears yet.

Because big girls don’t cry, said Fergie.

Before Rory could even think the thought to trigger happy thoughts, more sad kept rushing in.

Jace is with another man.

He’ll never love you.

He’ll never know about you.

He’ll find your drawings.

He’ll fucking hate you.

The drawings, Rory, the drawings.

Rory sat up bolt-straight on his bed. It was probably too late already. Best to just creep out quietly and ninja everything out of Jace’s hands.

As if he could be ninja. Rory was only good at drawing, and if he tried, he could manage to squeeze out a decent backstory for a picture or two. Barely. If he really really tried.

He stood up and straightened out his clothes. Best to look as dignified as possible while your dignity is being ripped to shreds.

He crept out of his room as slowly as possible, hoping for the best of situations. Except, Rory being Rory, he had no such luck. Jace and his newest toy were in the front room, talking with hushed voices. He couldn’t see them from his position.

His immediate reaction was to panic. His gut clenched and threatened to send everything he’d eaten in the last few hours back up. Not that it was much anyway, but it would still be pretty disgusting.

Down the hallway Rory went, his fingers twisting themselves into tighter and more and more complex knots with every step. He reached the end and the worst was happening.

Jace was holding up pictures.

Rory’s pictures.

Rory’s pictures of Jace.

Rory cleared his throat, already knowing that despite his efforts, his voice would crack. Welcome to life, kid.

“Can I-- um-- can I have my stuff back, please?” he asked quietly. Even then he managed to startle Jace.

Jace looked up at Rory and then back down to the piece of paper. “Why is this me?” he asked. Rory couldn’t tell if Jace’s tone was dangerous or curious; it all blended in.

“Jace, I can explain exactly why, I just--”

“Rory, I won’t ask again,” Jace said. Rory’s entire frame drooped, much like a small puppy that’s been denied its favorite treat.

“Okay... Could we have some privacy?” Rory asked. He glanced at Jace’s toy, who for some odd reason, had a name that he just couldn’t remember. He knew it started with an M, had to. Or a C. Candy? Carmen? Caramel, Misty, Molly, Mandy, Cinna--

“Satin, sorry, but you’ve got to go. I have some uh, business to work out with my roommate. Maybe we can go out some other time?” Jace asked. Satin gave him back the paper in his hands and smiled softly.

“Sure, I’ll call you.”

He had no intentions of calling Jace. Not ever. Not when his roommate was so obsessed with him that there were drawings of his various body parts (none being the genitalia, mind you) floating around the small flat. His nose. His eyes. A hand, an arm, a chest. And the occasional full facial portrait, and the even rarer full body portrait. As Satin left the small flat, Jace watched him go. Rory watched Jace watch Satin go. Everything was blank, spotless, clear in Rory’s mind. But that only meant he had nothing to say. Nothing to even begin to start explaining himself to Jace.

Jace pointed at the paper with one finger, as if to pick out a particular detail.

“This is fucking creepy, Rory.”

“I know.”

“And I think you’re fucking creepy now.”

“I know.”

“Explanations?” Jace demanded. He set the drawing back onto the desk behind him. “Go ahead. Explain yourself. I’m giving you an opportunity to redeem yourself before I go over there and smash your fucking face in.”

Rory swallowed hard. Now was the time. He’d tell Jace. And everything would be fine and peachy.

Jace would hold out his arms and Rory would fall into them, and the sun would suddenly rise, despite the time being just before two A.M.

“Jace, I-- I like you. A whole lot,” Rory stammered. Jace’s expression of anger turned into
amusement. “And when I like something or someone, I tend to want to draw them and just like, you know, get their perfection into a picture, because pictures last longer. And I wanted to save yours, you know? Some moments, I just--”

Jace walked to Rory, arms crossed, face amused. Rory’s throat constricted tightly. It was harder to breathe, harder to think. Harder to get himself out of this mess he’d gotten himself into.

Jace put his hands on Rory’s shoulders slowly, but even then, Rory flinched. He wasn’t usually touched by a sober Jace. Only the drunken Jace that could get furious at the drop of a hat, the one that would burst into Rory’s room in the wee hours of the morning and beat Rory to a bloody pulp before passing out in the bathroom.

But that was okay.

Jace was cute when he slept.

“Rory, look at me. I know you’d like me to tell you that you should have told me sooner, that I feel exactly the same way. Thing is, I don’t.”