It looked like Hell on earth. Smoke and ash were whipped around in the strong winds. Los Angeles was burning; the foothills surrounding the city were going up in flames after a long, hot summer. I loved it. It was nighttime and I was on the roof watching the flames dance in the distance, and thinking about the best way to do what I needed to do tonight.

Thomas had left for Stanford weeks ago now. In truth, I was a little lonely, but it was mostly self-imposed. I could have been spending time with Tate, but I wasn't. After our last time together, and my subsequent freak-out over it, I had gone to talk to him where he was holed up in the basement. I could feel his pain seeping out around the door like toxic fumes. That night I had explained to him that I was terrified that he would hurt me again, and that that fear was keeping me from being with him. He had immediately wanted to know what he could do to make it right, but I told him there was nothing to do, I just needed time.

But he had changed around me after that. We'd be doing something, and he'd be fine one minute, and then the next his eyes would fill with guilt. Every time it would happen I could feel my heart breaking a little. His guilt over the pain he had caused me had, like my fear, been a thing that that rose up between us and prevented us from truly being together.

What we needed was to let go of everything, and I was hoping that tonight we could do that. I twirled a fresh razor between my fingers. Tate was probably going to flip when he learned what I had in mind, but there wasn't another way. Sitting up here and worrying about it wasn't going to make it any easier either. I carefully crawled in the attic window, and went back to what was kind of my room again now that Thomas was gone.

I was surprised to find Tate lying across the bed with his eyes closed. I watched him for a moment before quietly setting the razor on the nightstand, and stripping off my tights to be more comfortable. I thought he might be asleep, so as gently as I could I lay down next to him, but he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. Without opening his eyes he asked me quietly, "what were you doing on the roof?"

"Thinking" I whispered.

"About?"

"You and me." I reached up to lightly touch his face. When I got close enough he kissed my hand.

"What about us?"

"The things that come between us." I could feel his body tense with nervousness next to me. "I think I might know a way of starting over." Now he opened his eyes.

"How?" he asked in a startled voice.

I pulled away from him to reach over to the small table and pick up the razor. When I turned back to face him I held it up. "With this." He just looked from me to the razor in confusion, so I explained, "I'm scared you'll hurt me again, and that's keeping me from you; you're drowning in guilt over hurting me, and that's keeping you from me. So I want you to hurt me. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think it's the only way. If we can face our fears over it maybe we can get past them." I finished.

"You want me to cut you?" His tone was just as confused as the expression on his face.

"Yes." I said firmly.

"And what if it doesn't work? What if we do this, and we still can't be together?" There was a slight edge to his tone now.

"If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. It's not like you can get carried away and kill me, so what's the problem?"

"No. I won't do it."

I was suddenly furious. I was giving him a way for us to be whole again, and he wouldn't take it. After everything he put me through he wouldn't do this one thing. I got up off the bed; Tate tried to grab my hand, but I whipped it out of his. "So it's fine for you to throw me on the ground or grab me hard enough to bruise me in a fit of anger, but you won't cut me?" I spat at him.

He was angry now to, and got up off the bed to stand in front of me. "I never hurt you intentionally, and I won't start now."

"So all your talk about doing anything to have me back was all bullshit? I'm giving you a way to make us whole again, and you're throwing it in my face." Just as quickly as the anger came it was replaced by intense sadness. I felt defeated. "Please Tate" I said, on the brink of tears now.

"No." And his tone was so final I knew there was no arguing with him.

I leaned against the wall for support. I couldn't even look at him as I quietly said, "get out."

"Vi -" He started, but I cut him off. "Leave."

After a moment he shuffled to the door, and I heard it open and close. "I hate you!" I screamed in frustration, and burst into angry tears. After everything he was gone. I felt broken, incomplete. I doubled over in pain, it felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest, and sobbed. I was so lost in the pain that I didn't feel the razor clutched in my hand cutting a deep gash that was making blood drip over my knuckles. So lost in it that I didn't hear the footsteps approaching me. Suddenly I was aware of hands gripping my shoulders, pushing me up against the wall, and rough lips on mine.

Tate pulled away from me. "I died that day so that I could be with you." He said fiercely, and his lips were back on mine. One hand sliding down to wrap firmly around my waist, and the other sliding down to the hand that held the razor and lifting it over my head, opening my fingers, and pressing his palm against mine so that our blood could mingle as it cut him too. "I won't lose you again."

He tightened his grip on my waist and steered me over to the bed where he pulled my shirt off before laying me down. He hovered over me, and looked deeply into my eyes, but there was apprehension there. I left the razor in his palm as I reached up to stroke his face, leaving a brilliant smear of red across his cheek. "Just let go", I whispered, and then tangled my hand in his hair to pull him back to my mouth.

I felt his hands on my back, pulling me up so we were both on our knees in front of each other. I stopped kissing him long enough to rip the shirt off his back and fling it to the floor, running my hands up his chest, savoring it. As my hands slipped down to do the same to his belt I nipped his ear playfully. He groaned and pushed me back down, and then he was there between my legs, his hardness gently rutting against me through our clothes. I kissed and nipped every inch of him I could reach: lips, neck, and shoulders.

I could feel his hand kneading it's way up the inside of my leg, finally pushing my panties aside so that he could slip a finger into my slit, then another, making me whimper with pleasure. "God, Vi", he rasped as he tugged my bra off before nipping and sucking on my nipples. The pleasure of it all left me gasping for breath. If I didn't slow things down I was going to come, and I didn't want to. Not yet. I wanted him inside of me when I let go.

The glinting of the razor in the low light caught my eye, and I decided to something a little rash. Tate was still devoting his attention to my breasts, so I picked up the razor, and quickly drew it across his shoulders; not deeply, but enough to make him bleed. He was startled, but when he looked at me all I could see was the darkness and lust that were in my eyes, in his as well.

His tongue trailed a path back up to my neck as his hand, sticky with my wetness, pulled the razor from my hand. I took the chance to unzip his pants and slip my hand inside to slowly stroke his erection; not enough to make him come, just enough to tease. It was thick, and heavy, and leaking, and my teasing made him groan "I need you, Vi" into the hollow of my neck as his member twitched in my hand. The next moment he was kicking out of his jeans and boxers, and I stripped my skirt off to lay naked under him.

He pressed his body against mine, kissing my shoulders as his hands forced my arms above my head to pin them there. I could feel his member ghosting over my slit, teasing me. I felt the tip slip between my lips and it was almost unbearable, and I whined with the desire. As he pushed inside of me he drew the razor down the inside of my arm all the way to the crook of my elbow, making us both moan in pleasure. He finally released my hands, and I wrapped him in my arms around him, mixing my blood with his again, and covering up both in its hot stickiness. He kissed and licked my wound covering his lips with blood before his kissed me.

He began thrusting in and out, not gently, but not rough either. It was like with each thrust he was claiming me as his own. Nothing else mattered but his skin on mine; his lips possessing my mouth. No one would ever make me feel this way. Nothing and no one mattered but him. The house could burn down around us, and we were so lost in each other we wouldn't notice. Time stopped. We drowned in each other. Every moan, every thrust, every drop of blood baptized us, and we emerged from it clean, and pure, and loved.

One of his hands was in mine, fingers intertwined, and the other gripping my hip so hard I was developing a bruise when I came with an inarticulate cry. My walls tightening around his hardness pushed him over the edge, and I felt his cock twitch and release inside of me, before he collapsed against me, grunting and pouring sweat.

Even as he slipped out of me he cradled my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply, passionately, pulling me with him as he lay next to me so that my arm was draped across him. When he released me I put head on his chest and listened to our ragged breathing steady as I rested my hand over his heart. His hand was rubbing up and down my back, and I gave myself over to the feelings of peace and security and contentment swirling around me. We drifted off to sleep tangled together, and didn't wake until late in the morning.

When I woke Tate was watching me, and he kissed me gently before he spoke. "I used to watch you sleep when you first moved in."

I yawned and stretched, "why?"

"After I saw you cutting in the bathroom the first time I was fascinated by you. I wanted you in a way I never wanted anyone before, and I didn't understand it. The first night I thought about killing you." And there was no shame or guilt in his eyes at the memory. "But I couldn't do it. I couldn't hurt you even though I wanted you forever. It confused me until I realized I just wanted to love you, and you to love me too."

I considered that for a moment as I brushed my fingers across his cheek. "I would have stayed, in the end, even if I had to die to do it. You waited for me for 17 years." I leaned in and kissed him, and the lust flared up between us. Tate pulled me on top of him and slipped inside of me again. We spent the rest of the day saying all the things we hadn't said and making love over and over again until we fell into a deep, exhausted sleep that night. For the first time in 7 years I felt whole, and happy, and loved.

When Thomas came home for Thanksgiving a few months later he found me under the big tree in the backyard leaning against Tate's chest with my head resting on his shoulder as he read me a letter John Keats had written to his lover. I was anxious to hear his news, but just as anxious to get back to Tate because it was me and him, for always.

I just wanted to thank everyone for the positive feedback. This is the first fanfic I've written and it was really nice to know a few people enjoyed it :) The chapters are named for the songs I wrote them to. Definitely listen to them sometime.

The Ghost Who Walks - Karen Elson

An Itch - Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

Just Like Honey - Jesus & Mary Chain

By Your Side - Beachwood Sparks

Far Away - Washed Out

Harsh Realm - Widowspeak

Lust - The Raveonettes