Harder to Breathe Pt. 2

       When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
       
       I knew my Master would be back when the seasons changed. He didn't mind the cold, but his indifference to the chilly air couldn't stop his longing for warmth-my warmth. I didn't mind, though. I missed him too. He felt that it was safer-that he was safer- for me to be with him when it was cold. The drumming, the constant drumming that he had to endure, was never as strong in the cold air. I hate that. I hate that the Master-that my Master, the only one I've ever loved, the only one I've ever given myself to- has to guard himself around me.
       
       You'll understand what I mean when I say there's no way we're gonna give up
       
       "We can't go on like this," he says, not meeting my eyes as he pulls his shirt back on. I say nothing, only moving to pull the bedspread up to my waist. I watch as his eyes move to my torso, lingering on the marks he left on my chest. "Doctor," his voice is torn, and I sit up, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back on the bed, almost in my lap.
       "Master," I reply, pressing our foreheads together, letting my hand rub circles into the back of his head. I know he hears the drums. It hurts me, but I can't let him see that. If he knew how much his pain hurt me, he would never come back. I know him well enough to know that. "I'm not giving up on you."
       He smiles-a bittersweet smile- pulling me towards him as he kisses me. I return his kiss, relaxing my body onto his. I know he understands, that there is no need for words. I'll never give up on you.
       
       And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams
       
       My dreams are haunted. I see the worlds I destroyed, the lives I've stopped. On the nights my dreams take on the darker tones of nightmares, the Master wakes me. He holds me as I stop shaking, talking about nothing in particular as he comforts me. He holds me as we lay back down, drifting off in our respective ways. "Master," I say desperately. I can hear sleep's claws as it draws nearer to me, bringing more nightmares as it does, but I can't sleep before I tell him. "I love you."
       "I love you too."
       
       Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
       
       As soon as the drumming starts again, as soon as it becomes too much for him to bear, my Master leaves me again. He never tells me when he's going to leave, because he knows I'll try to stop him, and I know if I tried to stop him, he would lose his resolve. He thinks he can't afford that. On days when the drumming is too much, everything I do is wrong. He becomes furious with me, oftentimes beating me. He hates when he does this-it takes him weeks before he can look me in the eye again- but I understand. I know it's not his fault.
       
       Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
       
       Understanding doesn't make his absence any easier for me. I love him: so much so that it scares me sometimes. But the love I have for him, the strange love we share, I wouldn't trade it for anything. The desperate kisses, the passionate love-making, the long nights where we do nothing but sit and enjoy each other's company, mean everything to me. The Master means everything to him. Some days, sometimes the days after my haunted dreams, sometimes just days when his absence is more than I can bear, I think I need him like I need the air I breathe.