A/N: What happens when you're alone on a Saturday night, blasting your music. Leah/Paul one-shot. Post-phasing. Rated T. Drama. Go ahead, have fun.
Never Let Me Go
"Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft."
I'd read a speech somewhere once. I didn't remember entirely what it was about, or who even gave the speech, or when it was given, but I did remember that specific quote.
I'd lived in Northern California before. It was pleasant and quaint, yet terribly boring and quiet. And now I was living in New York City. I hadn't moved around because of the poem. That wouldn't even make sense. I'd moved around because of things with Paul Lahote, my boyfriend of seven years. That man followed me anywhere, and I'd done the same. How many times had we ran away from home now? It had been too many times to count.
We didn't make much sense together. We were a match created from the deep, dark, and dangerous pits of Hell. But we both had wants and needs. Different wants and needs. However, what we did have in common was the fact that neither of us knew how to find what we wanted, and we both would stop at nothing to find it. We never found what we wanted and needed, though. Maybe they just weren't for us.
It also didn't help that we were the most temperamental wolves in La Push. Or we had been the most temperamental. Our wolf days were long behind us. Thank God we both stopped phasing already. Still phasing at the age of twenty-six would have really fucking sucked.
Paul and I had been through a lot in our seven years of dating each other. Too much. And we didn't know how to stay away from each other. We'd broken up and gotten back together countless times. We'd been through everything, even before we started dating. I remembered the pack days. Yeah, that was a lot.
But he loved me. He loved every inch of me with every beat of his cocaine heart. Paul didn't joke around with love, especially not with me. He knew not to.
I was wondering where Paul was as I lit another cigarette and waited for him outside of the coffee shop we were supposed to meet. I must have looked nervous, though I shouldn't have been. I slowly lit the cigarette and took a long drag, as if it was my last one. Jesus.
Paul eventually strolled his cocky ass over, like there was nothing wrong. "You're late," I said. "Again."
He smirked and shrugged. "Just taking care of business." Then he pressed his lips to mine. Really, every kiss he gave me felt like our first - or last. Paul knew me. He knew me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and even more. He knew that I liked attention (and I wasn't afraid to admit it), so kissing me in public was the best at the moment.
And he wasn't afraid to show that he loved me. He was fearless of what anyone else thought.
Paul Lahote was the love of my life. It was crappy how bad we were together, but being with him was heaven, even for a sinner like me.
Ew, I was gushing. I needed to stop.
It seemed like forever when Paul finished kissing me. I almost didn't believe it when he went to one knee and pulled a small black box out of his pocket. He opened the box and there was a beautiful diamond ring sitting in it. Even though I knew it was in his character to do things in public, I was absolutely silent.
"Is this...?" I said quietly. I was at a loss for words.
"Leah Clearwater," he began, "I love you so much, and even though we're sorta broke, and even though we have no family out here, and even though we've been through a lot, and even though we used to be werewolves, and even though this is really cheap because I should have taken you somewhere to propose but I didn't want to wait... where was I again?"
I laughed. "You love me," I reminded him.
"Oh, right. Leah, will you marry me?"
I dropped my cigarette and stamped it out with the ball of my boot. "Hell yes."
He slipped the ring on the ring finger of my left hand, stood up, and kissed me again.
Crazy how the angriest of wolves ended up together for life.
We caught a subway later that day. We were going out for dinner, and it was way out of town. Nothing was out of the ordinary until I noticed a bag on the train.
It wasn't a small bag. There must have been something in it.
The strange thing, though, was that nobody came even close to the bag. It was like they were scared of it. It was just a bag.
"Do you know what all that's about?" I asked Paul, my voice low.
"What, the bag?"
"I don't know. Maybe there's a bomb in it or some shit." He left.
I snickered. "Right. And it's gonna blow us all up."
"Think we can phase when that happens?"
I smiled and shook my head. I didn't miss phasing at all, but there were some things that were so different to live without now. I still wasn't used to being human one hundred percent of the time.
Paul, being the gooey, romantic, sly bastard that I knew and loved, held my hand as we got off the train.
We must have jinxed the bomb thing, because right as we were off, I heard an explosion. Paul and I went flying in a different direction.
I couldn't recall letting go of Paul's hand.
We survived, though. I wasn't sure how, but we did.
We were lucky. Beyond lucky.
He never let me go after that.