Author: october lies PM
prose. at the stroke of a chin and the touch of a fingertip, you knew everything that was in her heart, in her mind, you knew how to make the world right again.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Angst - Words: 607 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 09-26-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2576888
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
by: october lies (august 31, 2008, 3:23am)
russian roulette is a potentially lethal game of chance in which participants place a single round in a revolver, spin the cylinder, place the muzzle against their head and pull the trigger.
oh, trigger boy, if only you knew how everyone saw past that little lying rich-boy-face of yours and saw the truth, saw the deceiving monster growing inside your mind. if only you knew how little they all believed you, how little they trusted you, how much they hate the way you act like you're better than us.
but, oh, there was something in your eyes that unfolded before her, that came undone when you said those first words to her, after who knows how long. your once-fragile-best-friendship left it's toll on both you and her, and for a year, you have been anything but at peace. you knew when to hold her hand, when to nuzzle her neck and let loose a few butterfly kisses. calloused hands, white as bone, held fast at her waist and hugs that left echo breathless and cold.
at the stroke of a chin and the touch of a fingertip, you knew everything that was in her heart, in her mind, you knew how to make the world right again.
but that all fell apart, shattered to pieces when you left her, cold and numb and so very alone. all the saving you did, all the rescue missions and nurturing went to waste and crumbled, useless, when you forgot, yes, you forgot all about her and never said goodbye. when you forgot all about her and never bothered to remember anything at all.
and now you're back, trying to take ahold of something that was once yours, but now belongs to him. you're putting out the ache, and the tears, and the sadness, and telling her just how much you love her and all that you'd like to do to prove it, to show her that you're worth anything in the world. you tell her, "i'm much better than him, you know i am. he can't do half the things that i can, he doesn't know how to treat you, but i do." you're begging her, "trying to make her see" what she "should have seen" so long ago; trying to show her that he only hurts where he shouldn't, trying to show that he doesn't love her, but you do.
she ignores the rip in her heart, the ache of the emotional bleeding inside her body, and shakes her head, because, god, how would you know if he loves her or if you're better than him? because god, how could you be telling the truth when it's not like you ever have before and your baby-blue eyes say something else, something different. how could you be telling the truth when she can see everything in those sky-blue eyes that can never hide a lie. and she realizes that she should have said goodbye all those months ago and stopped all the pain before it got any worse. she realizes that you were never worth the time and let's you go, almost thirteen months later than she should have.
"you once won her over, made her doubt everything they had together, made her doubt how much she loved him, but now–now she sees who you are, and it's over for you."
(sorry for the three-day late post. personal issues went down with the boyfriend.)