Unrequited

Unrequited

Author: Shuri
Pairing: RonaldxAlan, unrequited
Rating: none

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His heart hurt.

Ronald tried to concentrate on the form in front of him, useless paper with letters on it his brain refused to comprehend right now. Despite his better judgment he lifted his green eyes, peering through silky blond strands of hair at the cause of his preoccupation, angling his head slightly so that the light bouncing off his oversized glasses hid his longing expression from view. It was a trick he had copied from William. He was becoming good at it lately. He shouldn't be.

Again, his heart ached.

He knew he shouldn't watch. He had no right to. It was as useless as trying to fight the urge to. He couldn't stop. Time and time again, his eyes would wander across the squad room, to the one he needed to forget. Alan Humphries. Just a few years older than him, by appearance at least, a thousand times more beautiful than even an angel could be, and currently safely tucked away between the two strong arms of Eric Slingby standing behind him, leaning over him, hands firmly planted on the desk. Just a little too close.

They thought they were being discreet, but he saw. All of it, every little thing. That hand, ever so slightly touching those graceful, slender fingers. A small caress, a loving squeeze. Soft smiles at things only the two of them shared, furtive glances holding secret messages just for each other to read. The coy giggle leaving the beautiful lips he would never taste, the light blush coloring those pale, porcelain cheeks as the other's mouth was brought a little too close to that silky, chestnut hair to whisper things in his ear that no other would ever hear.

Every touch, sound, look, a pinprick in his heart. Mildly uncomfortable on their own, downright painful and frustrating when put together. And yet, he couldn't look away.

They so belonged together, in a way he had never seen two people belong together before. A unity so strong, so perfect, it was as if they simply could not exist with anyone but each other by their side. It seemed pure blasphemy to even think of wanting to be where Eric was now.

His stomach twisted, slim fingers gripping tightly around the struggling pen.

He had had crushes before, many of them, but this was not like that. Crushes came, stayed for a while and then they were gone. This one wouldn't leave. This was the real thing, this was what kept him up at night. Not just with adolescent fantasies he thought he would never have about a man, but with the longing to simply hold him and feel those gentle arms around him, and a worry about his frail health so deep it rendered any physical need completely irrelevant.

And there was the uselessness.

Ronald forced himself to look away and fill in a few lines. Alan didn't need him. There was no need for his wanting nothing more than to protect the petite brunette, to be there for him when he was suffering, to fight away his fears and take care of his every need. To make him enjoy life as much as he possibly could. To do everything in his power to make a genuine smile appear on that delicate face, to be all he could be to make him happy.

Everything Eric already did, better than he ever could, and would continue to do until the day they both died.

The knowledge was like a wall he hit full-force every time he let his thoughts wander in that direction, a swift kick in the arse hurtling him right back to his designated spot at the sideline. It hurt.

The pen halted under once again increasing pressure, its dark contents threatening to spill and engulf the orderly surface beneath.

He could do nothing but sit here and watch. Look, but not ever touch. No, not even look, Third Wheel Syndrome had almost reached its final stage. But even when he didn't look, he saw them in his mind, failing to stop himself from imagining the things they might do when no-one was around. Pangs of guilt and jealousy shot through his chest. How he envied the hands and the mouth that were allowed to explore that sensual beauty he would never have to himself, to caress that flawless skin, feel his warmth, to love him with all the passion and tenderness they possessed, and be loved back with equal intensity. How he had hated himself for feeling that way about a man.

He, Ronald Knox, who could have all the gorgeous girls he could ever desire at the wink of an eye and the snap of a finger. He had fought, struggled, searched his soul for nights on end. Had drunk himself silly, yelled at Grell, got bitchslapped in return. Found out the hard way that picking drunken fights with Eric was not a good idea. Messed up an assignment, mouthed off to William, suffered the consequences, hated himself more. Two weeks unpaid overtime had been torture, but the condemning silence and that disappointed look had felt infinitely worse.

The paperwork-filled nights had been long and lonely, then Alan had shown up. Always the concerned one, a worried rant about his behaviour worrying his friends had flown from those velvety lips. Then nothing had mattered anymore. He cared, loving him couldn't be wrong.

The pressure eased off the still idle pen, the danger of spilling over averted.

Ronald willed a smile onto his face, forcing away upcoming tears before they fell. No, nothing mattered. As long as there was someone making Alan as happy as could be, everything else was irrelevant. It didn't matter that it wasn't him, that he could never have him, never hold him, never be his. Even though it hurt like a bugger, even though it sometimes made him want to smash his head into the wall until the whole world stopped. He had no right to feel this way, to even think of being so selfish to want to break that perfect bond. He lived to see the people he cared about happy, and he had done too much wrong already. Alan would never know. The brunette would never see him hurting, would never see him cry, for him he would always smile.

The form, it had to get finished, and well on time. It was the least he could do after failing William like he had.

He realized, too late, that he was being watched. That he had been staring again, and Alan was looking back. He quickly forced a smile, a thumb going up, but the brunette's emerald eyes seemed to fill up with pain, an apology hiding in their depths. Then Eric seemed to notice the silent exchange. The look he sent Ronald burned. The slow, incredibly possessive kiss he then pulled his small lover into, was more like a dagger aimed straight at the heart.

The pen snapped.

The paper ripped.

Darkness burst forth, staining the white beyond repair.

He pushed back his chair, just a little too hard, a curse hitching in his tightening throat. Various other reapers in the room looked up. He gathered the stack of papers, throwing them together just a bit too roughly. Tears threatened to spill like the ink on his work, but he kept them in. Without looking at his two coworkers even once he walked out of the room, dragging his lawnmower deathscythe behind him, a little bit too aggressively. As he passed them, he could hear their conversation, but he did not stop until he was outside in the hallway.

"You can be such a jerk sometimes, Eric, that was uncalled for." "Kid needs to learn that he can't have everything. There's no greater pain than pining for someone you can't have….well, almost none." "…But do you have to break his heart for that?" "Sometimes things have to be broken in order to heal properly…"

They would NOT see him cry.