Ficlet: Midas (Logan/Veronica) PG-13

Title: Midas
Author: _flutter
Pairing/Character: Logan, bits of Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 764
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Later, when he'll say that he's sorry and watch as she shatters beneath him. She’ll reply that she knows, and she’ll say it like she means it.
Spoilers/Warnings: Up to "Hot Dogs"



Midas


This is going to end badly; he breaks everything that he touches.

Every thing he’s ever laid a hand on, every person he’s ever “loved”, every single goddamn thing. He figures that one of these days, someone should just tie his hands behind his back so as to not risk any more damage.

Maybe he’ll do it himself to save the trouble.

He remembers the first thing he ever broke.

For Christmas, his grandmother had given him his father’s old model airplane. It was worn and loved and Logan remembers looking in awe at the intricacy of the plastic parts. He remembers taking it out of the case when the nanny-of-the-week wasn’t looking and holding it in his small hands. He remembers running into the coffee table and the wrinkle in the rug that caught his foot. He remembers the crash and the fall.

Falling. Breaking. Shattering.

He remembers getting punished afterwards.

For no deed went unnoticed under his father’s watch.

So much for that, he thinks.

This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to have nice things for too long.

This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone.

Because, really, what good was he doing them? The two people he ever truly “loved” ended up dying too early, and was it really a coincidence that they both had him in common?

He doesn’t think in terms of coincidence.

He figures that life’s too complicated for it to be one big lie, one big mistake.

So, having possessions is out, loving is out …

So, really, what the hell is he doing with her?

She of porcelain.

She of glass.

She of everything that he’s never allowed himself to have.

This is going to end badly.

He can feel it in his bones.

History always has a way of repeating itself, and he’s never been one to hope for a different, happier, ending.

So, hypothetically, if he truly did care about her, he’d revert back to his old, immediate post-Lily days, and go out of his way to call her names, to make her life a living hell again. If he truly did care about her, he’d push her away, without explanation, and leave her thinking that she was just another temporary thing.

If he truly cared … but he’s always been selfish.

So it’s hard to think on those terms, with her mouth on his, hot and sweet, small body pressed neatly to his. It’s difficult, with her murmuring something about ‘forever’ in his ear, hand gliding lightly along his chest, unbuttoning.

And later, when he slips into her, he’ll whisper that he’s sorry. (So sorry.)

And later, when he wipes away her tears, he’ll watch as she shatters beneath him.

Falling. Breaking. Gone.

She’ll reply that she knows, and she’ll say it like she means it.

But he knows, he knows all too well that this is going to end badly.

They are the model example of the tension of opposites—she is the creator, he is the destroyer. She is the cure, he is the poison. She is the beginning, he is the end.

There’s no room for ‘forever’ in the life that they’ve both created for themselves.

But he’s not asking for forever, not with her, because forever is a temporary thing anyway. He’s not stupid enough to ask for something long term. He just wants the here and the now, and is that really too much to ask?

He just wants the present, just wants this one thing, and he says it out loud (to no one in particular) that he won’t ask for anything more. Just this one thing. Just this. Just her.

But he’s always been too greedy for his own good.

This is going to end badly—-him and her.

He sees the porcelain doll beginning to break already, the pieces already laying themselves on the ground. It’s just a matter of time now.

One day, he’ll say something stupid and she’ll get mad, and that’ll be that.

One day, he’ll do something inevitable, tired of the ‘good boy’ act that he put on to fool her, and she’ll catch him in a lie—and it’ll end before he knows it.

One day, the poison that he drugged her with will catch up, and she’ll realize that he was her destruction, her end. Because that is who he is, that is the role he’s always been destined to play.

She of life, he of death—and they’ll always be circling one another.

Only a matter of time.

He’s just waiting for the fall.

- end



xposted to veronicamarsfic and veronicalogan