Teresa Robledo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hey_sexy_latte) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixwordstories2013-06-05 11:21 pm
hey_sexy_latte) wrote in sixwordstories2013-06-05 11:21 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Contentedly reading while drinking some coffee.
...as always, apologies for the gratuitous use of the f-bomb. You've seen this movie. /o\
afuckingloser
2013-06-06 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
Isn't that fucking nice. That she can just. Fucking sit there. Reading. Looking calm as fuck. Not getting eaten up inside by the fact that he had acci-fucking-dentally said something stupid as shit and she said it back but while goddamn drunk so fuck knows what the shit hell that means.
Because clearly, she's got no memory of it. Clearly, her mind's a fucking blank about their conversation apart from the 'I'll see you for coffee' bit. Because she spent the whole walk from picking her up from her afternoon shift back to her place super fucking chipper. And is clearly not being dragged the fuck over an internal rack of coal while they sit leaned comfortably together on her couch, her reading and him tapping at his phone to finish off a bit of work.
Fuck.
There's a bit of a clatter as he tosses his mobile down again, drags his hand over his face. Get it the shit together, Gaines.
Because clearly, she's got no memory of it. Clearly, her mind's a fucking blank about their conversation apart from the 'I'll see you for coffee' bit. Because she spent the whole walk from picking her up from her afternoon shift back to her place super fucking chipper. And is clearly not being dragged the fuck over an internal rack of coal while they sit leaned comfortably together on her couch, her reading and him tapping at his phone to finish off a bit of work.
Fuck.
There's a bit of a clatter as he tosses his mobile down again, drags his hand over his face. Get it the shit together, Gaines.
No no I haven't waaah why are you swearing at me /o\ ;3
hey_sexy_latte
2013-06-06 05:32 am (UTC)(link)
She is remarkably chipper considering the mother of all hangovers she'd had this morning and was still nursing the tail ends of. But she appeared to have made it home okay and a quick review of her phone had informed her that she hadn't made the poor decision of texting anyone she shouldn't have, so she went about her day looking forward to the coffee she could just barely remember promising she'd have with him. All's well in the world.
At least, she thought it was until his phone drops and he rubs his hand against his face. She shifts so she's looking up at him with a faint furrow of concern in her brows.
"What's up?"
At least, she thought it was until his phone drops and he rubs his hand against his face. She shifts so she's looking up at him with a faint furrow of concern in her brows.
"What's up?"
"Nothing."
Clearly not nothing, though. Clearly his foot was tapping and his shoulders were tense and his face, when he was done mashing at it with his own fingers, was pulled more toward distraught than 'sitting with coffee and girlfriend' ought to be. Fuck.
"Work."
Lying to people he was about to kill was so easy. Why did that have to mean lying to people he wanted to keep alive felt-- not easy?
Clearly not nothing, though. Clearly his foot was tapping and his shoulders were tense and his face, when he was done mashing at it with his own fingers, was pulled more toward distraught than 'sitting with coffee and girlfriend' ought to be. Fuck.
"Work."
Lying to people he was about to kill was so easy. Why did that have to mean lying to people he wanted to keep alive felt-- not easy?
It's not nothing. It's obviously something. It's just that she doesn't remember much to be concerned that it isn't, in fact, actually work.
"Are you allowed to talk about it?"
"Are you allowed to talk about it?"
Just say 'no.' Just say fucking 'no' and be done with it. Turn it into a reason to curl around her and enjoy the odd comfort of burying his face in her hair.
Except that that would just be more of this goddamn problem of love. Fucking--
"Don't--" But she doesn't remember. There's nothing he can yell at her about. He tugs himself to his feet, moves to pace away from her. "It's fine. Just-- leave it."
Except that that would just be more of this goddamn problem of love. Fucking--
"Don't--" But she doesn't remember. There's nothing he can yell at her about. He tugs himself to his feet, moves to pace away from her. "It's fine. Just-- leave it."
The worry is clear in her expression as he moves away, and she bites her lip.
"Are you sure?"
He's obviously stressed out, after all.
"Are you sure?"
He's obviously stressed out, after all.
No. No, he's not sure they should leave it. No, he does think maybe this needs to be a conversation or a breaking point.
Why the shit isn't pacing, picking up things and putting them down, helping. It should help.
"I'm-- just not sure I should-- be here, yeah?"
Why the shit isn't pacing, picking up things and putting them down, helping. It should help.
"I'm-- just not sure I should-- be here, yeah?"
She can't contain the flash of hurt across her features, doesn't try to.
"--Why not?"
"--Why not?"
"You--"
But the words end there, really, if only for a moment. She's the reason he shouldn't be here. She doesn't need... this. In her life. Fucking up her quiet coffee.
"--you don't-- remember last night."
But the words end there, really, if only for a moment. She's the reason he shouldn't be here. She doesn't need... this. In her life. Fucking up her quiet coffee.
"--you don't-- remember last night."
...Well, crap. And here she thought everything went well. It must have been during the phone call. Crap, crap, crap.
She shakes her head, biting down on her lip hard.
"--No, I don't. Did I-- I'm so sorry if I said anything that offended you, I'm sure I didn't mean it."
It would sound more sincere, she's sure, if she could remember what it was.
She shakes her head, biting down on her lip hard.
"--No, I don't. Did I-- I'm so sorry if I said anything that offended you, I'm sure I didn't mean it."
It would sound more sincere, she's sure, if she could remember what it was.
She doesn't remember. So it shouldn't feel fucked up that she didn't mean that she felt-- strongly about him.
And it really shouldn't suck that she doesn't feel strongly about him. Because fuck, she shouldn't, for both their sakes.
Fuck.
"We..." Both said it. That had been the fucking saving grace and worst bit all at once. "...we both said-- things we shouldn't, really."
And it really shouldn't suck that she doesn't feel strongly about him. Because fuck, she shouldn't, for both their sakes.
Fuck.
"We..." Both said it. That had been the fucking saving grace and worst bit all at once. "...we both said-- things we shouldn't, really."
"I'm sorry," she says again, looking as though she wants to get up but isn't certain if she should.
"I know that might not help but-- I am."
"I know that might not help but-- I am."
She's sorry. Well, technically, she doesn't remember, but still--she's sorry.
His fingers twitch at a photo frame, a piece of bric-a-brac, the edge of a book. His eyes stick to the ground. "It's-- my malfunction. You were-- drunk. It-- I'll go, yeah?"
His fingers twitch at a photo frame, a piece of bric-a-brac, the edge of a book. His eyes stick to the ground. "It's-- my malfunction. You were-- drunk. It-- I'll go, yeah?"
He wants to go. She doesn't even know what she said, but it must have been bad if he was feeling like this. She bites her lip again, but nods.
"If you-- feel like you have to."
"If you-- feel like you have to."
"I'll-- call you, yeah?"
From somewhere else. From, likely, another country, to tell her he was sorry and it wasn't working out and she should find a better man. That's a good plan.
Then again, moving to kiss her cheek felt like a good plan, but taking the first step toward her twisted his stomach so much he had to veer off track. "Tonight. Just-- sorry."
From somewhere else. From, likely, another country, to tell her he was sorry and it wasn't working out and she should find a better man. That's a good plan.
Then again, moving to kiss her cheek felt like a good plan, but taking the first step toward her twisted his stomach so much he had to veer off track. "Tonight. Just-- sorry."
"...All right." She's a little frozen to her couch, she realizes. She's never really felt like that before.
"Tonight. I'll-- wait for you to call."
"Tonight. I'll-- wait for you to call."
So now it's just a matter of leaving. Calling from the road. Untangling and letting them both hurt in a numb fashion rather than bleeding out on each other.
He makes it back to the hotel, get his bags completely packed and his life ready to vanish again into nothingness. He double-checks assignments, readies a transfer back to the base in London.
Can't actually purchase the plane tickets he finds.
It's later than he intended when he actually remembers to call her, fingers fumbling on the mobile and almost unable to find her number in the dim light of the alleyway.
He makes it back to the hotel, get his bags completely packed and his life ready to vanish again into nothingness. He double-checks assignments, readies a transfer back to the base in London.
Can't actually purchase the plane tickets he finds.
It's later than he intended when he actually remembers to call her, fingers fumbling on the mobile and almost unable to find her number in the dim light of the alleyway.
She's still not asleep when he calls, although on any other night she'd've passed out by now. Tonight, she's far too anxious to even get to the bed.
She picks up the phone a little too quickly then she should, voice still tending towards nervousness, "Hello?"
She picks up the phone a little too quickly then she should, voice still tending towards nervousness, "Hello?"
Her voice shouldn't make him smile. He can't help it. Then again, who cares? No one's here to see. He's not even entirely cogent enough to be bothered by it.
"You." It took quite a bit more than two margaritas to get him slurring like this. It took a good deal of hard liquor at all to get him on the phone. "You-- are wonderful."
Yes. Smoother when he's drunk, clearly.
"You." It took quite a bit more than two margaritas to get him slurring like this. It took a good deal of hard liquor at all to get him on the phone. "You-- are wonderful."
Yes. Smoother when he's drunk, clearly.
Well. That's hardly what she expected to hear from him after the way he'd left so suddenly. The surprise is clear in her voice, even though the words have her smiling instantly.
"Yeah? 's that so?"
"Yeah? 's that so?"
"But it-- fucking sucks." There. That sounded more like himself, didn't it. "Because you're-- sorry about it. An' if-- I put myself out there, an' I think you've done the same, but-- then you're sorry, T, that's-- sucky."
Descriptive, he knows.
Descriptive, he knows.
Much more like himself, certainly. But also much more confusing.
"What-- d'you mean? Didn't I-- say something awful to you? I should be sorry. I don't ever want to-- make you feel bad."
"What-- d'you mean? Didn't I-- say something awful to you? I should be sorry. I don't ever want to-- make you feel bad."
"Fuckin'-- said I love you. And you-- You're sorry you said it too."
Which is, he's fairly certain in his half-conscious state of inebriation, the entire definition of 'sucky.'
"Like-- whole thing-- in the first place 'f-- caring this much is shitty, but-- you're sorry about it. Fuck."
Which is, he's fairly certain in his half-conscious state of inebriation, the entire definition of 'sucky.'
"Like-- whole thing-- in the first place 'f-- caring this much is shitty, but-- you're sorry about it. Fuck."
Her grip around her phone tightens, eyes widening in surprise as she realizes that it hadn't been something offensive at all that she'd said. Quite the opposite.
She's surprised, then a little irritated-- because of course he would get worked up about like this; it's why she hasn't said it to him already-- before she works her way back to flustered.
"Y'told me-- you loved me? And-- I said it back?"
Give her a little bit more time to properly process this.
She's surprised, then a little irritated-- because of course he would get worked up about like this; it's why she hasn't said it to him already-- before she works her way back to flustered.
"Y'told me-- you loved me? And-- I said it back?"
Give her a little bit more time to properly process this.
"But now 's-- all taken back. An' you're-- You were drunk. So it didn't... But you said it."
And it had felt good, for half a second. Before it felt terrifying.
And it had felt good, for half a second. Before it felt terrifying.
Page 1 of 3