Love/Hate (Lemon GarouxReader 🍋)

Let The Games Begin

"Come back..." your words hang uneasily in the air between you and your hot, satisfied bodies.
He doesn't look too keen on the idea.
"Just like that?" He frowns, still holding you carefully.
"Just like that," you confirm but you can tell he's thinking, analysing, working something out in his mind.
"If it's school you're worried about," you say, hands still holding on around his neck, "I'll catch you up, no problem. You're a fast learner," you tease.
"Don't give a shit about that," he rolls his eyes.
"Of course you don't," you sigh.
What are you asking him here... You're asking him to give up everything he's been working towards. All his goals...and become what? The idea of coming back to this life...it feels so inviting, so warm and at the same time, suffocating, a trap.
"Will you even consider it?" You ask, troubled by the expression on his face, as if he's ready to fight something, like a cornered beast, the silence too long.
"Why the hell would I want to?" he says slowly, suspiciously.
The freedom he's had lately, the exhilaration of not playing by anybody's rules but his own. Why would he give that up? Voluntarily give himself up for restraint?
You sense it's going against all his instincts, like asking a wild animal to be tamed. But you have no wish to take away his independent cocky streak, just prevent him from falling over the edge completely.
"Because," you say quietly, wriggling out of his arms and setting your feet lightly on the floor again, "doesn't it feel lonely?"
"That's what's great about it," he smiles in a way that you don't like.
He can see something sad pass across your eyes. Only momentarily. But you don't even notice it yourself. You disentangle your hands from around his neck.
Wait. No. He didn't mean it like that. Shit.
"You're free to be as alone as you like," you say, retying his belt, "but you can be alone here, and not out there doing God knows what," you give it a final tug.
"That ain't how it works," he says. If he's here, if he's back at school, there's always people to deal with, always the same bullshit. What do you think alone means?
"Look," you suddenly get an idea. "Just come back until the end of school. Until April. Just finish school with us. And then if you still feel like doing...what you were doing..." you still can't bring yourself to fully describe his violence, "then we'll part ways, you'll never see me again and we'll be free of each other forever."
But he's still suspicious. Why until April? And why do you say 'if' he still feels like it. There is no if. He'll always feel like it. Just because he doesn't like you getting caught up in it doesn't mean he's suddenly laid down his dreams, his ambitions. Have you got some plan brewing? Thinking you can change him? There's a spark of anger.
"I ain't your little pet project," he tries not to scowl but it comes through anyway. "You think you're going to save me? That you're gonna make me realise the fucking error of my ways?"
What is he going on about? Why does he always think everyone is out to get him, hold him down? All you want is to keep him off the street, keep others safe and, if you're lucky, he'll come to prefer human company on his own. You have neither the time, nor the energy...
"As if anyone could make you do anything. You are the least of my concerns," you shoot back. "Like I don't have enough to worry without you. All I said is you should come back and at least give this life a try before you throw it away forever. But your salvation is your own business."
"Why?" He's frowning again. "I been trying it all this time."
"No, you haven't," you challenge. "You pushed everyone away, and even school, you didn't even give a shit last year. It was a pretty half-assed attempt if you ask me."
"I ain't asking," he retorts.
You don't take the bite, preferring to not start something now.
"Just, try it," you finally say.
"Why?" He asks, still wary and suspicious of your proposition. "Because I owe it to you?"
"No," you say, somewhat puzzled. What do you have to do with it? Why does he think he owes you anything? Doesn't he ever get tired of assuming the worst of what everyone thinks? "You owe it to yourself."
He goes to say something but you can suddenly hear the bright chirp of the washing machine from down the hall.
You leave him thinking and go to grab his torn shirt, bringing it back.
"I don't want to see you in this again," you warn, remembering too much, as you shake the knot of black fabric at him before handing it over, still damp.
He doesn't care. In fact, on this hot night it feels pretty refreshing as he pulls it back on, while you begin to pull yours off, about to get changed into your home clothes.
"Just think about it," you say as he turns to leave. And you really hate to do this, it's not your style at all, but if it works... "Stop running," you add, making him pause, and you can see him tense unpleasantly at your words, get his back up. "For once, stop running away from people. Not everyone is as heartless as you think."
Men, you think. Just prod their ego a little, stand back and watch.
He turns around, a stinging comeback on the tip of his tongue, but he sees you just standing there in the lamplight, almost naked, looking right back at him, your shirt in your hands, his eyes travel to your shoulder, the scar that he didn't notice in the heat of the moment, so clear now, a stern reminder of recent events and those cold words melt away. Right now, it's better to say nothing at all.
"Just think about it," your voice is soft as you repeat your words. The ball is in his court now. You've shown all your cards. It's all up to him.