War in Me

Kimberly/Roy. PG-13. ~150 words.
Other men turn to drink to drown their guilty sorrows.

The thick blankets rustle as Kimberly rolls over to sit up. Soft, glowing light from the banked fire throws one half of Roy’s face into black shadow.

Other men turn to drink to drown their guilty sorrows. Some lose themselves in the smoky haze of the desert’s herbs. Roy comes to him.

“I’m going to start thinking you’re falling in love with me, Flame,” Kimberly says, lips slanting in a wide grin. His voice is rough from sleep and rising anticipation.

Roy’s fist clenches at his side.

Kimberly reaches out, trails the tips of his fingers over the thin, delicate skin of Roy’s wrist. He can feel tense muscles practically quiver with the need to hurt him, but that’s the one thing Roy never lets himself do.

It’s clear in dark eyes that Roy hates himself for being weak, for using him and letting himself be used. He believes that one night, he won’t seek out Kimberly to forget.

Kimberly knows better.

End

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