They say once bitten, twice shy; that every blow to the heart leaves it bruised and battered, but prepared for the next.
Jamie’s fond of the expression. He’s always liked the idea of his heart slowly turning to stone; a lump of caution that will protect him from ever hurting again. He sometimes imagines he can feel it hammering against his chest, growing stronger with age and experience, a heavy organ weighed down over the years by the beatings it’s taken.
Jamie thinks he could probably see the scars etched upon it if he looked hard enough, each blemish there to make him stronger, to remind him that trust and hope and love can no longer be brandished so openly.
His heart is there to guide him, to shout and kick and scream and thump whenever Jamie starts to give in; when he falls, when he hopes… when he loses all sense and begins to forget.
So now, as Pepe strokes his arm, leaning over him and smiling into his eyes, Jamie doesn’t understand why his heart has suddenly grown silent.
“Trust me,” Pepe tells him, not for the first time. “I am not going anywhere. Stop fighting this and let me in.”
And Jamie waits for a signal; for the rock to beat against his ribcage in protest. He takes a deep breath and anticipates the moment his heart warns him he’s too close to the edge, on the verge of another beating… a hundred times bitten, never quite shy.
But the caution isn’t forthcoming.
Pepe simply continues to smile, pulling him closer, and chipping away at the stone that’s become Jamie’s heart.
And that’s when Jamie realises.
Wrapped in Pepe’s arms, safe and secure and surrounded by the one thing his heart’s always craved, he can finally relax.
They say once bitten, twice shy; that every blow to the heart leaves it bruised and battered, but prepared for the next.
Jamie’s fond of the expression. He’s always liked the idea of his heart slowly turning to stone; a lump of caution that will protect him from ever hurting again. He sometimes imagines he can feel it hammering against his chest, growing stronger with age and experience, a heavy organ weighed down over the years by the beatings it’s taken.
Jamie thinks he could probably see the scars etched upon it if he looked hard enough, each blemish there to make him stronger, to remind him that trust and hope and love can no longer be brandished so openly.
His heart is there to guide him, to shout and kick and scream and thump whenever Jamie starts to give in; when he falls, when he hopes… when he loses all sense and begins to forget.
So now, as Pepe strokes his arm, leaning over him and smiling into his eyes, Jamie doesn’t understand why his heart has suddenly grown silent.
“Trust me,” Pepe tells him, not for the first time. “I am not going anywhere. Stop fighting this and let me in.”
And Jamie waits for a signal; for the rock to beat against his ribcage in protest. He takes a deep breath and anticipates the moment his heart warns him he’s too close to the edge, on the verge of another beating… a hundred times bitten, never quite shy.
But the caution isn’t forthcoming.
Pepe simply continues to smile, pulling him closer, and chipping away at the stone that’s become Jamie’s heart.
And that’s when Jamie realises.
Wrapped in Pepe’s arms, safe and secure and surrounded by the one thing his heart’s always craved, he can finally relax.
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