Drabbles
Title:Drabble
Author: colinsgal
Pairing:Ry/Col
It's 3am. I haven't bothered going to bed. What's the point? Going to bed means sleep (only a very slim chance if I'm lucky) and forgetting how shit things are only to wake up and have the dawn light smugly rub your face in the aforementioned shit. Sleep? Fuck that. No thank you - I'm not falling for that anymore.
You know what's good? Beer. Beer is fucking good. I've got one now. You've probably guessed that. I have a lot. Used to be vodka, but hey- that gets expensive when you haven't worked in a while. Sure there have been offers. Not too many lately...but there have been. I'm not interested anymore. After it happened there didn't seem much point. To anything...to me. But yeah, too much of a coward for what you're thinking, so I'm stuck here wallowing in my own pity, misery, and yeah - if I'm honest - filth.
Christ this place is a tip. It really isn't me. Well - it never used to be me. A lot of things never used to be me and I never used to be a lot of things, but whatever. I miss stuff. Stupid stuff that you take for granted; stuff you soon realise doesn't get done when you're on your own. But as She said - I made my choice. Yeah - I did. Trouble being I thought it was the right one. It was the right one, until He decided it was all fucking wrong. Apparently. 'Apparently' he coulnd't do it anymore. But it was too late by then. Too late for me anyway.
Ha! Oh hahahahaha! Jeeze if this isn't poetic justice - no wait, maybe it's irony I mean. Fuck I don't know what I mean anymore.
Great. Now I'm fucking crying again. I do that a lot. The alcohol doesn't help - yeah I know. But it numbs the pain. Can't alter the TV schedules though. Irony I think is what I mean. I've gone channel hopping and what have I found? Bingo. Him. Hot Shots Part Deux to be specific. We're about an hour in. Topper's just been exploded out of the water and landed head first in the dirt with his legs sticking up. And He's there beside him. Just as He used to be beside me - the way He said He always wanted it.
It's a goofy film I know, but it has its niche and was actually funny. Well, better than the first one I thought anyway. He thought so too.
I can see a close up of His hands as He pulls Topper out of the dirt. Strong hands; slender fingers; the way the veins stick out as He grips and holds him. I remember when He used to hold me. I was always fascinated by His hands. They were always so safe and strong. Powerful yet gentle. Until He let go of me for the last time. Before He walked out the door. 'Sorry' He said. But He couldn't look at me. 'I'll be home soon - home is you' He always said that when He left to go back to her. But this time He never came home; I knew He wouldn't. But part of me is still waiting...
It's funny; I never thought of Him as ever having aged. I've persistently looked middle aged sicen I was 17, but He was always the opposite - a look of perpetual youth. Now I can see how He aged. He looks little more than a boy on the screen. But it's still Him. Still My Ryan. Sorry, was My Ryan. Funny how the mind forgets. Or sadistically reminds you, perhaps. Yeah, I think I prefer that description.
I don't think I can watch this anymore. There go those fucking tears a.g.a.i.n. I've become worse than a woman now. Every look He gives used to be directed at me. It was for me and only me.
Ha! Those stupid, over exaggerated expressions still crack me up. Perfect for that stupid film too. He asked me what was my favourite part once. I said all of it and He didn't believe me. But it was true, because, as I told Him - He wore military fatigues for most of it and looked (looks) hot. I got a laugh for that one. He hadn't anticiapted that.
At first He never understood what I saw in Him. He was insecure about everything then - His marriage, His looks. He had a big nose, was too skinny, goofy (His words, not mine - although I would call Him my Big, Tall Goof - well, when He was mine).
When He came to me I didn't hesitate. As soon as He said how He felt, everything else ceased to exist for me. I shut it all down for Him. He was all I needed and wanted. Word of advice - never be too fucking hasty.
For a while I was all He wanted. For a while. Somehow part of me always knew it would be transitory; that I only ever had Him on loan; on borrowed time. And yet I gave up everything for that brief period together. Well, it's what you do isn't it? Risk it all- all or nothing. You can guess how I came out of it.
It was 'too difficult' for Him. What was too difficult? I asked. What it was doing to His kids. Ah. yes- that predictable chestnut that I should have seen falling long ago, hurtling towards my head. That was hard for me too, but I was willing to make.things.work. When it got hard He didn't even want to try. That's how it seemed. He was always worth it for me. But I obviously wasn't worth it for Him. 'I have to go back - I don't have any other choice. what can I do?' That's what He said. What choice did I have? What could I do? Nothing. And that's what I did. It's what I continue to do. Literally and metaphorically.
-o-
She rings me every week. Asks, begs me to come back. We'll be able to fix things she says. She still loves me. Doesn't want me to be on my own. She says we can work it out. Won't I come back for Luke's sake if not for hers or my own?
But she doesn't understand. It is precisely for his, her and my own sake that I don't. That I can't. When I made my decision I knew it would either work out or ruin everything in the process. It worked out for a while but it also ruined everything. It ruined me. I can't love anyone else - not anymkore; not after loving Him. Not after He loved me. Nothing can compare and nothing should have to. So that's why I'm on my own and that's how it will stay. That way no one can get hurt. Not even me. I've wrapped myself in a cocoon of self pity that no one can penetrate. Well, except the cell phone that's ringing. Caller Id: Ry. And so it begins again. 'Hello?'
-o-
'Col?' It was as if He didn't expect me to answer. Who else would it be? I know you're probably thinking that I'm weak for even answering in the first place. I probably am; I'll concede that. But it was instinct. I've never refused Him anything; never been able to. As soon as He asked I was His. I gave up everything because He was all I wanted. I knew that as soon as He said how He felt. Like I say - instinct.
He asked how I was. 'Fine'. A lie, obviously, and I know that He knew that, but it didn't matter. This was going to be one of those conversations where we both knew that neither of us was acknowledging what was really being said. Cowardly? Possibly. Foolish? Definintely.
'I miss you' He said.
I'll admit that I hadn't anticipated that and it threw me. All I remember is that I said 'oh'. Yeah - I know, crap. He sounded upset. Well, more quiet and withdrawn. I figured He might be drunk. I asked Him. He said He wasn't.
'I'm sorry' He said. Sorry for what? 'You know...everything'. I knew, but I also knew that I'd heard this from Him a hundred times. And everytime ends up the same. Yeah, yeah I know - you'd think that I'd know better by now.
The sigh from the other end of the phone was intoxicating; transporting me back to the blissful place We used to be. To the tmes when His sighs were for me - caused by me. To a time when His sigh was a hot breath on my skin. My ear was burning as my mind regressed, taking me with it. I.can't.fucking.help.it. Every part of me belongs with Him. To Him.
'Can I come over?'
His voice was quiet but resolute.
'To talk...to see you'.
My 'yes' had escaped me before I even realised that he'd asked the question. It's like I was no longer in control. Realistically I know that I wasn't. That I'm not. Not since the caller ID flashed Him back into my life again.
'I'll see you in 20 mins' He said before the line clicked off.
I checked the received call list three times to make sure that I hadn't imagined it all ina drunken stupour. The knock at the door told me I hadn't.
When I opened the door I didn't know what to say. He didn't speak either. He was sloped against the door frame at an angle; those green eyes that forever bored into my soul were tired, and as glazed as my own I guessed.
He had aged. Even since the last tim I'd seen Him. The silent picture of Him flashing on my TV in the background was a shadow of the man I saw now. But this was Real. The Real Ryan -someone I know that only I ever truly knew. My Ryan. I saw myself in Him. He was part of me and I a part of Him.
I still couldn't say anything; but I stepped aside and watched Him move into the room as I closed the door. He was watching the TV - watching Himself. It was almost over. His face crinkled - like it always would when I'd break Him up during a taping. It always made me so happy to be able to do that to Him.
He looked at me, those eyes now with more life in them - more light. Like when they were for me.
'Have you been watching this?' He asked. Channel hopping, I explained.
'Me too' He said. 'It made me think of you'.
His eyes met mine once again and I knew I was His.
'Psychic link' He said. I think I smiled becayse He did too.
'It made me remember the way we were'
I think that's what He said, but I can't be sure becayse every part of me had frozen when He'd raised His hand to my face and traced His fingertips down to my shoulder. He left His hand there, burning a heat through my body. I know that He expected me to say something, but I couldn't. All I could do was fix my eyes on His hand. It was how I'd remembered and how it was in the film. Strong, yet gentle. But this time His touch was for me once again.
'Are you coming Home?' I asked.
'I'm already there' He said.
His lips touched mine; the touch that was the missing piece of me; the touch that connected us just as it had done for the first time all those years ago. He made me feel alive again. He made me feel me again. His touch instantly gave back to me what I had lost. He gave me life with every kiss.....every touch...every sigh...
-o-
As I sit here now I know how fucking pathetic all this must sound. I hate myself for being so predictable - so weak. It's what I am - well, what I was...but not anymore....
He left when He thought I was asleep. I couldn't fall asleep because I was scared He'd leave. I wasn't going to win either way. I wanted to reach out and cling to Him. When I felt Him get out of the bed there was that fucking uncomfortable chill again; occupying the place where He should be. Where He belongs. I can't do this again....
I heard Him cough and sob quietly as He closed the door. The faint jingle of His keys rang like a crashing cymbal in my ears. A crashing that made me the most awake I'd been in many months. His form was still on the sheets beside me. As ever, He'd gone but was forever with me, haunting me. His remainder a reminder that He had gone. I felt paralysed; my face wet with silent tears. I had willed Him to stay but still He'd gone. What could I do? His smell still on the pillow.
-o-
I looked up at the window as I sat in the car and wiped my eyes. Why the fuck had I put Him through this again? I loved Him - i love Him, but why couldn't I just fucking tell Him? What the fuck is wrong with me? Yeah I know I'm a selfish bastard. I fucking hate myself. It feels like I'm not good enough for Him. All I'll do is hurt Him; I know that. That's why I had to leave.
I know I'm speeding, breaking the limit by miles, but I need to get away. I need to forget what I've done. What I can't seem to fucking stop myself from doing. Every fucking time I just can't. He's The One but I can't let myself be His. I'll hurt Him, like I've fucking hurt Him again.
I shouldn't have fucking done it. I shouldn't have called Him. I've ruined it all. Again. I can't see through the rain of tears. I'm getting further and further away from where I know I want to be. But I can't get back. I've done enough damage. I can't go any faster. I want to enter oblivion but I can't. He's still with me. I can't forget. I don't want to forget. It's all over; I can't fix it. Why.the.FUCK.did.I.LEAVE? Why am I fucking incapable? Why can't I just be?
I can't drive anymore. I can't see; my head is throbbing from the pain of crying. All I see is Him. Asleep as I left. Why? I don't fucking know. He never said anything...
My cell's vibrating on the passenger seat. Caller ID: 'Home'.
'Hello?' I choke
'When are you coming Home? It's late'
My mind clears almost instantly. Instinctively I know where I belong and where I need to be. My decision is made. For good.
'I'll see you in 20 mins'.