Torchwood tomorrow! This is very, very angsty, and a bit closer to home than I would have liked, but I felt guilty about not writing for so long, so I decided to post this... please review!
The tears fell quick and fast and he didn't know how to stop them. It reminded him of a time once before, and he delved into the memory gratefully… anything to stop him thinking about the present. About the future.
The tears fell quick and fast and he didn't know how to stop them. Maybe he would have gone downstairs for comfort but awkward questions would be asked. It was his fault anyway; his fault for looking at the picture and his fault for listening to a song about love at the same time. His fault for wanting the older boy to hold him. His fault for being wrong, wrong, wrong, and now he didn't know how to stop the tears flowing.
Ianto turned over to muffle the sound of his weakness and his secret in the pillow, so that nobody asked him what was wrong. If they heard the music, and saw the picture he'd taken, kept and worshipped in secret, they could put two and two together and-
He lay there, unable to move, and the tears fell quick and fast and he couldn't stop them.
The pain had numbed, but never gone away. This pain, the age old and yet brand new pain of unrequited love was new and fresh and it hurt. It hurt so much.
As Ianto lay there, the tears flowing quick and fast, Jack came to hold him. He'd seen Ianto's eyes and he knew what was wrong. What Ianto was thinking, feeling, crying for. He held Ianto and he whispered into his ear.
The tears fell quick and fast, but Jack Harkness managed to stop them.