"Battlefield"

Song: "Battlefield" by Jordin Sparks (Requested)

Pairing: Thalia/Luke

Notes: I've noticed I made the girl the "victim" of sorts in a lot of these...and I know the stereotypical thing to do here, so I tried something different and I hope it works out. Sorry if it doesn't, especially to the requester. I'm happy to rewrite. Also, sorry I'm not getting these up as fast as I normally do, but my lame excuse is that I've been sick so...hopefully the next one will be up tonight or tomorrow! And yes. This is AU!

He can't even tell anymore. It was like the air would change, and all sense of peace would disappear, like she snapped her fingers and unraveled all sense of calm he thought they'd have. 

"I love you," she'd whisper right into his ear, and he'd hold her close, because he loved her to. His hands would stroke her hair and he'd hum a little, a small smile on his face. He wouldn't smile much anymore, so it would feel like a breath of fresh air. 

And then she'd get up suddenly, tearing away from his embrace, her eyes full of anger and distrust. "You don't love me?" she'd gasp, and scramble backwards a little bit, causing him to stiffen. He'd feel a flash of fear in his heart and then he'd scramble back, too, until the arm of the couch dug into his skinny back. 

"I do!" he'd protest, his eyes getting wider at every second. 

"Then why didn't you say it?" she'd yell, her voice growing louder and louder, deafening his ears. He wouldn't be able to look at her properly, as much as he would want to, as much as he could want to - he just wouldn't know what's going on, and he would want it to stop, to have her back. "I'm sorry," he'd whisper, finally getting the courage to stare at her electric blue eyes. They'd stare back at him, burning an image into his head that he would never forget. 

"I don't understand why it's so hard for you to say things like that," she'd counter, straightening up, trying to look intimidating, but a glint of exhaustion would be hidden behind the walls she had put up. He would have those same walls, staring right back at her. "Can't we just be okay?"

"Weren't we always?" he'd finally have the strength to reply, inching forwards a little. She'd look so vulnerable that she'd just want to help her, make her feel okay again. 

She wouldn't have an answer, but neither would he. Neither of them would know what had started all of it. Little things would set them off, and then they'd be okay, but they wouldn't be. The cruel thing is that they both would know it in their hearts. 

She'd crawl back into his arms, and then he'd hold her close, feeling the rhythm of her chest against his, her presence warming his aching heart. He wouldn't know what to do, but he'd keep whispering that he loved her until her eyes would flutter closed and she'd fall asleep. Even then, he'd whisper that he loved her. 

Because he's sure he does. Isn't he?

Luke knows it's not going to change. He wants it to, but that's just the way things are. That's how his relationship is. He doesn't want to leave her alone, because he's worried about what she'll do - he can accept this. 

So he'll fall asleep, only thoughts of her on his mind. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Morning," he hears when he wakes up. He turns over a little, looking at where it came from. Thalia's up already and she's off in the kitchen, making breakfast. Or coffee. Both of them are okay with him. 

"Morning," he repeats, careful not to repeat last night's mistake. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Better than the night before," she replies, flashing him a grateful smile. Her smile is dazzling, just as they always are; they're a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel for Luke. That's another reason he stays. If he left, he wouldn't see her smile anymore. She wouldn't smile anymore. The world would lose something special, and Luke wouldn't be able to live knowing it was his fault. 

"That's great," he says geniunely, sitting down at the counter. 

"What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs? Toast?"

"Toast is fine," he decides, not wanting her to work too hard. He follows it up with a quick, "Do you need any help?"

She turns on her heels and glares at him, and he immediately knows he must've worded it wrong. "Do you think I need help?" she hisses. "Do you think I'm useless? That I can't do anything myself?"

This is worse than last night, and he knows it. He's not sure why. He was trying to be nice. 

He's tempted to walk out the door now. End it. Leave it. Be with someone better. 

But he doesn't. He stays, for more reasons than he knows. And he listens to her yell, and he waits, before saying that he's sorry and no, she's not useless, that he's an idiot, and then they hug and they love each other again. 

So, yeah, he'll stay. He'll always stay. 

Somehow.