F A N F I C T I O N > V . M A R S
This Is What You Get by Amberina
The smoke of Lilly's memory drifts and curves around their bodies. Faint echoes of her voice keep a soft, slow beat with their movements. When Veronica kisses them, she swears she tastes Lilly's blood on their tongues.
When she comes, she dies just a little.
It's not that she doesn't like them, love them, want them. She does. She just didn't expect it to be like this, she doesn't want this. This is not right, and angering the dead is never a good idea.
What's funny, if anything deserves the label of "funny" anymore, is that Lilly would only hate it because she couldn't join in. That fact doesn't stop Veronica's mind from wandering to things she doesn't even know how to articulate without making herself sick.
She didn't expect love. She never expects love, not anymore. Not love, not candy, not flowers. Even then, she's still a little surprised when she's left holding nothing but dead lilies.
They sleep together because they need to. They are the ones left behind, and they can never get away from each other, no matter how they try. They're completely and totally tied to each other by history, by death, by Lilly, who surrounds them, and connects them, like thin strands of what they used to be.
It doesn't matter if they don't want it, not really. It's a magnetic pull, the craving to be near someone, anyone that has an inkling what's going through your head. That's what Duncan thinks, at least, when he kisses down Veronica's body (soft and sweet and everything she is and was and will never be again), while Logan's hands drift down his pants.
They are together only to survive, and they survive only because they have to. Duncan repeats this to himself, over and over again. It's survival. Survival. They need this.
Their bodies crash together, and Duncan feels like he's watching himself from a distance as the collision of skin and sweat and pure, undistilled despair shakes them each apart at the seams.
Logan feels like he's burning up from the inside out. He thinks that one of these times, there will be nothing but ashes left on the bed where their bodies used to be. He hopes that day comes soon, because he's getting so tired.
Tired of being this, and being that. Walls thrown up to protect himself, walls torn down to keep himself sane. He just wants the walls, and the rubble, and the intense need to pretend he's okay to go away.
So he thrusts. Inside Veronica, inside Duncan, into his own hand. It's all part of his plan of destruction. He doesn't want to take them out with him, but if he has to, he will. Every time, he comes, and every time, he's disappointed.
Maybe if things were okay, he could fuck them, and he could enjoy it for what it was. Maybe he could get off without wishing he was dead. Maybe if Lilly was alive, she'd laugh and she'd smile and she'd lie. Logan wants the lies back. Lies make everything okay.
Logan can't lie anymore.