Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Things Left Unsaid	By : RoseThorne Category: +M to R > Pandora Hearts Views: 891 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts and do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Things Left Unsaid
- 1
Things Left Unsaid

by Rose Thorne

Disclaimer: Pandora Hearts is owned by Jun Mochizuki, Square Enix, et al.

With their secret out, and Liam’s obvious fear, they had given up all pretense of sleeping in separate rooms. In some ways, it was relieving to finally be able to be open about it and stop sneaking around, as worrying as it was that someone might use Liam against him, but in other ways…

It was the third time in six days that Break had woken to the bed heaving beneath him as Liam flailed himself awake, but it was the first time he found the gun. He had reached out to calm him and his hand had touched warm metal.

With the gun, he knew it might be harder to calm him down, in part because Break wasn’t able to contain his first reaction; he lashed out and sent it flying across the room, skittering across the tile floor in the direction of the dresser. That certainly didn’t help, sending his half-asleep lover into a sort of breathing fit. Break could only listen as he hyperventilated, not daring to touch him.

The first two nights, Break had tried to snuggle it away; after all, with Liam that generally worked—but Liam had never had nightmares nearly this severe. Instead, it had only made things worse. The first night Liam had scrambled away, falling out of the bed and reopening his shoulder in his panic. The second night, Break had been forced to let go of him lest he get hurt when Liam had started clawing at him frantically.

Tonight, Break kept his distance, trying to avoid sending him into a violent panic. Instead he spoke to him, gently, as though coaxing a potential jumper from the top of a high building.

“You’re alright. It was only a dream. You’re at the Rainsworths. I’m right here, Liam…”

Being unable to see him had never been as hard as it was now. Break didn’t know whether talking was working until Liam’s hand touched his face.

“Xerxes…”

Then, and only then, did he know it was alright to pull Liam close, to hold him while the shaking caused by whatever he’d dreamed subsided.

“Tell me?” he asked, not particularly hopeful that his request would be fulfilled.

Liam had consistently refused to discuss his dreams, just as he’d refused to tell him what had happened before Break had managed to stop Vincent. What the bastard had said and done to him, aside from reopen his wounds.

He had told him everything else, in bits and pieces, as much as he could handle telling in one sitting.

Of the attack. Of waking to Lily and panicking, and being a split second away from having his throat torn out by a Chain whose breath smelled of old blood. The information he had gleaned from the discussion with the Baskerville who was, at intervals, an innocent child and a raging psychopath.

Of distracting her with the March Hare, and shooting her in the back of the head—Break knew that had pained him, regretted himself that Liam had gotten blood on his hands.

Of her getting up…

Liam hadn’t been able to continue far with the description of what had come next. Pain, the knowledge that he was going to die. Being beyond terror, to the regret of disappointing everyone—disappointing Break—with his failure, with his uselessness. Using the March Hare’s False Death, not knowing if he would ever wake up again, but knowing without it Lily would kill him.

Of not knowing if he was alive when he woke up, a moment of hysteria before he managed to drag himself outside. Just in time to distract Lily. And the look of joyful relief on her face when she saw him, the violent sociopath gone again, replaced by an innocent child.

Liam had even mentioned a thought that obviously disturbed him, from the way he shuddered when he voiced it: that Lily hadn’t wounded him fatally because she had been playing, as only psychopathic little girls knew how.

He had gotten through it eventually, and had detailed his injuries—extensive, but not fatal. No arteries severed or even damaged. No castration. The slash against his torso hadn’t been deep enough to disembowel him, something Liam didn’t mention or seem to realize and which Break kept to himself.

But Liam wouldn’t talk about Vincent.

So when Liam shook his head, refusing to discuss it for the third night of nightmares, Break knew they were Vincent’s fault.

He was going to kill the bastard. Slowly. And he was going to let Liam watch.

Break carded his fingers through Liam’s short hair, carefully avoiding the bandage by his forehead, comforting him. Slowly, his breath calmed from near-sobbing pants to just slightly shaky breaths.

The gun had been under the pillow, he realized. It was the only place it could have been. He could only imagine that it hadn’t been there before, or he would have encountered it one of the first nights.

Though he hadn’t actually touched it for more than a second, Break knew it couldn’t be the same one he had taken to Yura’s party—he knew from Gil that Lily would have shot him with it had Liam not yelled to distract her. They had never retrieved it.

Until yesterday, Liam had hardly been in any condition to make it on his own to the bathroom, let alone to sneak out to purchase a new gun. He only had new glasses because Barma had sent him a new pair.

Which meant that he had asked someone for it—someone who was not Break—and then had neglected to mention it.

“You don’t need to sleep with a gun,” he whispered. “You have me.”

Liam’s reaction, the way he clung to him briefly and then pulled away, closing off, told him he’d said exactly the wrong thing.

Break tried not to take it personally, but that was a bit difficult.

After all, he had failed Liam. Failed to keep him from ‘dying’ a false death (something he knew couldn’t be easy for someone like Liam, forcing himself to let go like that; it must have been much like walking off a cliff and trusting gravity to fail). Failed to avenge him, hadn’t managed to kill the one who had nearly ended Liam’s life—even if he had killed her companion, it wasn’t good enough. But, worst of all, Break had failed to protect him, first by acknowledging that Liam meant something to him, and then by not getting to him before Vincent.

He couldn’t even protect Liam from his nightmares.

The silence between them was cloying, and it stretched for far too long. He could tell Liam hadn’t fallen asleep from the forced-calm way he was breathing.

“I won’t let him get you,” Break finally said, just to break that awful silence. “I’ll protect you.”

There was another long period of silence, during which Break had far too much time to wonder if he had truly proven he couldn’t protect him, before Liam responded.

“You won’t always be here to protect me, Xerx.” It would have been better, easier somehow, if his voice had been accusing, but it was just a grieved statement of fact.

Break felt frozen. They’d avoided this subject. Or, rather, he’d carefully danced away from it each time it seemed like Liam might bring it up. But now… Liam grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, and he found himself in his arms.

Now there was no escaping this subject. And, truthfully, Break wasn’t sure he’d have tried even if there was. Not in this situation. This subject was slightly better than the one he had expected, but only in that they were simply slightly different shades of horrid.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s something you don’t want to talk about,” Liam whispered, but in that tone that told him that he was going to patiently make him. As though the way he was holding Break hadn’t made it obvious.

Break sighed, and Liam seemed to recognize that as a reluctant surrender.

“It’s hard enough that you’ll be gone,” Liam tried to keep his voice level, but it cracked on the last word, “but once you are…? I’m not exactly skilled at protecting myself. I proved that at Yura’s party. Being unnoticeable was my protection.”

Liam barely took a breath before continuing, babbling as he tended to when he was particularly flustered or upset. Break had learned, over the years, that sometimes it was best to let him talk, especially since more often than not he wound up talking himself down.

He rather hoped that was the case now, with this conversation, and at first it seemed to be headed in that direction. But when Liam went so far as to apologize for being useless and burdening him… Well, Break shut him up in the most expedient way possible.

Break tried to pour everything he couldn’t say into the kiss.

Really, he wasn’t exactly the best at expressing these sorts of emotions; if he had been, it wouldn’t have taken Liam getting spectacularly drunk and initiating everything for this side of their relationship to begin. Break had always been far more comfortable with action, so that he had known how to handle. (He had waited for Liam to sober up before allowing him to take it to a more intimate level, but that was just common sense, and despite popular opinion to the contrary he did possess that.)

But there was desperation in the way Liam was kissing him now, and Break knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one so easily. It wasn’t like either of them was in any condition for the distraction that having sex would afford—and he owed it to Liam to respect him enough to talk about it. After all, it was, in no small part, his fault Liam had been so badly injured, that he was having the nightmares that had them awake and talking about this now.

Liam also seemed disinclined to break the kiss, despite the fact that both of them were becoming oxygen deprived—quite ill-advised in Liam’s condition, at least—so he was the one who finally pulled away.

When he’d sufficiently caught his breath to not require panting between words, he cupped Liam’s cheek in his hand. “You are not useless, or a burden—and I don’t have to act as though you are in public anymore, which is just about the only good thing about Vincent knowing about us now!”

In fact, it meant that he could likely get away with some very interesting things that would make Liam blush in public now, but before Break’s mind could wander down that particular path, he realized that Liam had actually flinched at the mention of Vincent.

What on earth had Vincent said to him?

“I’m going to kill him,” Break said matter-of-factly, as though he was discussing the fact that the sky, when not covered by clouds or disguised by the darkness of night, was blue. It was, after all, a fact with a similar absolute nature.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but he certainly hadn’t expected Liam to yank him tighter, hissing in pain as Break’s chin hit his shoulder but not loosening his grip.

“You will not.”

Break gently pulled back, mindful of Liam’s injuries even if the man himself was ignoring them. “Whatever he said to you was bad enough that you won’t even tell me. That makes it perfectly clear that he deserves it.”

Liam didn’t reply immediately, and Break brought a hand up to feel at his shoulder, to check for moisture that might indicate that he should get a doctor. He didn’t quite reach it before Liam grabbed his hand.

“I don’t care about Vincent Nightray. I am going nowhere near him, especially if no one else is around.”

Break could tell from the tremor in his voice that Liam knew that didn’t necessarily mean that Vincent wouldn’t seek him out, but he knew better than to point that out. At least Barma’s threat might keep him away—Break knew first-hand how dangerous his information could be—but there was no guarantee. He had targeted Sharon, after all, despite the danger of Shelly’s reaction. And Break had never managed to kill him even after that.

“But if you go to kill him… What then, Xerxes? You use Mad Hatter and get yourself killed as well? You kill him without it and get put to death for killing a nobleman?”

“Liam…”

Break intended to tell him how ridiculous both of those scenarios were, that he could get to Vincent and kill him without resorting to his chain (a gutter rat like him didn’t deserve to die by the Hatter’s hands anyway, though that might be unavoidable if he truly was a Baskerville spy) or getting caught, but before he could Liam brought his other hand to Break’s mouth, placed a couple of fingers to his lips.

“No, you listen.” Liam’s hand was on his like a vice. “Maybe it’s a selfish request, but if you’re going to die at least give me as much time with you as possible before you run full speed toward it like you seem so intent on doing.”

Break winced. He didn’t seek death, or hadn’t until the Baskerville had uttered the terrible words that had thrown everything he’d allowed himself since leaving the Abyss into disarray.

He had, after all, only allowed himself Liam because he’d been aware of his dwindling time. Break would die first, and though that certainly wasn’t fair to Liam, he couldn’t handle it any other way after losing everything once. He’d had to destroy Cheshire’s bell to save Sharon for the same reason, and, had Echo not intervened, he would have jumped off the balcony in an effort to save the antidote.

With Liam gone, everything else had disappeared. The only thing left to him, more important than his promise to the Will of the Abyss, more important than anything, was to follow him, follow him before reality sank in—but it was too late, as soon as the fight dragged out and he saw in his mind’s eye Liam yelling at him for putting himself in danger, as soon as he knew that would never happen again…

Not that he’d been allowed to seek death, ultimately. Gil had stopped him and reminded him that there were other people in the world, and then Liam had been not-dead and so alive and flippantly commenting about his expression in that way that Break knew he meant, There are other people around, Xerxes, you idiot.

And then Break had gone and been an idiot anyway, and he knew he couldn’t stop Vincent on his own. As though relying on Gilbert wasn’t bad enough, he’d had to rely on Barma, a man who would gleefully get him killed if it suited him, to save Liam from Break’s own idiocy.

Useless. When had he become so useless?

Liam brought him back to the present by kissing his knuckles softly, and he realized he was breathing shakily and made an effort to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” Liam whispered.

Break only shook his head, moving closer and relaxing when he felt Liam’s arm curl around him.

He knew that Liam meant he was sorry for bringing it up, likely believing that was what had upset him, or maybe sorry for refusing to tell him what the rat had said and done to him—not that he was going to relent on that.

But to Break it was like he was apologizing again for dying on him, for leaving him alone, for being Break’s weakness.

Break settled against him, tucking his head under Liam’s chin and pressing his lips to the pulse that still, six days later, relieved him with its beating. That he would do almost anything to keep beating.

Except go after Vincent.

Because Liam had a point, one that wasn’t selfish at all. If he expected Liam to survive him, to let him be selfish and die first, he had an obligation to stay with him as long as possible.

He’d just have to gather enough evidence against him for Pandora to kill Vincent for him. If that meant working with Barma, so be it—at least he knew the duke had Liam’s best interests in mind. The fact that Liam was here, in the Rainsworth household, with Break, while he healed, was proof enough of that.

Break could feel Liam’s body start to relax as he was dragged back to sleep, and he settled his own arm gently around him, mindful of his injuries, to rub his back.

“No more sleeping with a gun?” he finally asked softly.

He was hoping that Liam would be more amenable half-asleep and would keep his promise—Break could, after all, generally trust that he would. But Break knew that if he didn’t get that promise and didn’t wake first, the gun would disappear from underneath the dresser. Liam would hide it better this time, or at least make it difficult for Break to find it now that he was completely blind.

Regardless of whether it was in reach, Vincent was a better shot than Liam even when he was fully awake. Like a lot of the rest of his thoughts, Break kept that one to himself.

But instead of a sleepy agreement, the tension came back into Liam’s body, a little tremor running through him.

“Wouldn’t matter if I did,” Liam whispered, voicing it for him. He pulled Break closer—this time careful of his injuries.

It was close enough to a promise to suit Break.

“Well, I’d have Gil train you, but he’s always been a poor shot,” he murmured lightly, nuzzling the juncture of Liam’s shoulder and neck on his uninjured side. “I still don’t understand why he insists on using a gun as his primary weapon. It’s only cool if he actually hits the target.”

Liam let out an amused huff at that. Break found the blanket and pulled it up over them, and stroked his back comfortingly. He was relieved when those muscles started to relax again.

He slipped one leg in between Liam’s, bringing them as close as possible without actually having sex. Liam, for his part, altered his grip on Break, moving his arm up his back until his fingers were playing with the hair at the back of Break’s neck, and rested his cheek against Break’s ear. Under the petting, Liam’s muscles relaxed until he was soft and pliable and warm, and their bodies fitted comfortably together.

Liam’s breathing evened out, and this time Break said nothing, letting him slip into what would hopefully be a much more peaceful slumber.

The warmth of a so very alive Liam seeping into him, his breath slow and steady against his ear, combined to chase away all terrible thoughts. Break relaxed into his embrace and let himself be dragged toward sleep.

Companion fic to “What the Dormouse Said.” I think I’ll be writing in this particular corner of my Pandora Hearts headverse for a while. At least until it’s contradicted by canon.

Seriously, who wouldn’t have nightmares about Vincent in this situation?
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Things Left Unsaid