Ours Chapter 4
Title: Ours
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: A year after his high school graduation, David is living with Cook in L.A., but keeping their love hidden from the public eye brings up obstacles that threaten their relationship.
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from September 2008 to October 2009. :)
4
I. David Archuleta.
I angrily wiped away the teardrop that had fallen on the leather body of the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. My fingers drifted over to grip the circular frame, and I glanced over at the keys still in the passenger seat where I’d tossed them. I felt no desire to reach for them; the parking garage was dark, with its bare concrete walls and dim lighting, and there was relief that came from knowing that no one could see me behind the tinted windows of my car.
‘Arch, just drop it.’
Those four words had been the last straw, and the frustration that been building up lately had pushed its way out.
There was no way to describe heartache, the searing pain that started in my chest and spread through my body like an unstoppable fire - the hurt that came from the realization that the one person I loved most in this world had felt hesitation and doubt about me. Little hints had been getting dropped, intentionally or not, but I had always brushed them away as my usual tendency to overanalyze everything. Today, however, my fear was proven to be true.
Cook was ashamed of me, of what we had.
I glared down at my hands, and recalled the way Cook had abruptly let go as soon as we came into the building. It had been that way ever since the first day I accompanied him to the studio. Silently and quickly he would pull free from our entangled fingers the second we passed through the glass doors. I never said anything, convincing myself that it was only natural for him to do so. No one could know about us.
I think it had been a little thrilling in the beginning, catching each other’s eyes when the recording engineer was sitting just a few feet away, exchanging small smiles. But the things that made my skin tingle stifled me after awhile, and Cook’s cautious behavior didn’t help.
‘My life has just gotten busier, you know? And now we’re here, enjoying our life together -’
‘Is it because this… what we have… isn’t conventional?’
‘That’s not what I meant, Archie.’
A bitter laugh escaped through my lips.
“You don’t have to lie, Cook,” I whispered into thin air, shutting my eyes to let the tears flow.
I wished that Cook would just tell me that this lifestyle wasn’t working for him. Why didn’t he admit that living together wasn’t what he had expected, that he was powerless against reality?
Then again, I wondered if Cook had already given up and resorted to another way of shielding us from scrutinizing eyes, in the form of a strikingly beautiful woman. A rose that, despite the thorns, suited Cook well and would leave no doubt in the public’s mind that he was normal.
No scandalous secret.
No boyfriend.
No me.
II. David Cook.
I remained rooted in the spot where David had left me, standing so still that heads began to turn as people passed by on their way out. Groaning, I roughly ran a hand through my hair, angrily tugging at the strands caught between my fingers. Deep inside, I was aching to scream at the top of my lungs, in the hopes that it just may relieve the tension that had made my body become completely rigid. But I couldn’t. I was conscious of those around me.
All of the eyes that were watching, all of the ears that were listening, all of the voices that were dying to gossip… Perhaps I had been wrong when I’d convinced myself that this was going to work. Being under a spotlight in cutthroat Hollywood and being in love with someone so unbelievably pure were two conflicting parts of my life that seemed to have finally come head to head. But those two sides were both embedded deeply into my soul, my identity. As they clashed, I was being ripped apart.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to raise a child with David. It would be a dream come true - being a father with the person I loved most. But it wasn’t the same when we were being scrutinized by those whose only interest was to find a reason to splash either of us across the page of a trashy magazine under a tacky headline.
This wasn’t something that I could make a decision about and naively hope that everything would work out. I knew enough about the realities of this industry to be extremely cautious, especially because the minds behind the business were more conservative than I’d imagined. There were execs that knew the formulas on how to mold a celebrity, and they weren’t planning on veering off the deeply paved track anytime soon.
I knew I was hurting David and the thought tore my heart ruthlessly to shreds, but I couldn’t risk anything. His talent was finally being put out there for the world to hear and adore, and all of that could possibly be taken away in an instant if our secret was revealed.
I didn’t want to be the obstacle standing in his way.
+
My feet made barely any noise on the maple floor as I went across the foyer in our apartment. I stopped when I was passed the living room and heard soft breathing coming from the inside.
David was asleep on the sofa, his knees bent and his body curled up like a child’s. When I stepped closer to him, I reflexively clutched at the front of my shirt at the sudden, throbbing pain in my chest. Under the dimmed lighting, I could see the tear streaks on his paled cheeks and the droplets on his dark lashes that hadn’t fallen.
I went into the guest room to grab the comforter off the bed. After I lay it over David’s body, I kneeled down next to him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that he couldn’t hear me.
+
David avoided me the next morning. All that could be heard were the sounds of the milk and cereal being poured. We kept brushing each other as we shuffled around the kitchen, and after awhile I couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Archie,” I called.
He didn’t respond.
“Archie,” I tried again. “Arch, don’t ignore me.”
“… You told me to drop it, Cook. Remember?”
“I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
“… Tell me what’s going on.”
“… The execs thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to bring a date to the VMAs in September. They set me up with Veronica Cortez because she’s a big name right now, and…” I paused to catch my breath. “I told them that it’s not going to happen, Arch. There’s no way I’m… Look, I didn’t know she was going to be there.”
David absorbed the words without batting an eyelash. He simply looked back at me with those striking brown and olive green eyes. He didn’t seem to care very much for my explanation, and his blank expression told me that there was still something amiss. I went up to him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but rather stood there limply like a doll.
“What else aren’t you telling me, Cook?”
“I don’t understand.”
“This isn’t just about Veronica. I don’t care about her as long you love me, Cook. But lately… You’ve been so different, I… I don’t know if we are what we used to be.”
His confession was like a harsh slap across my face and, before I could respond, he turned and grabbed his keys off the counter.
Moments later, I heard the front door close with a crisp click.
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: A year after his high school graduation, David is living with Cook in L.A., but keeping their love hidden from the public eye brings up obstacles that threaten their relationship.
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from September 2008 to October 2009. :)
4
I. David Archuleta.
I angrily wiped away the teardrop that had fallen on the leather body of the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. My fingers drifted over to grip the circular frame, and I glanced over at the keys still in the passenger seat where I’d tossed them. I felt no desire to reach for them; the parking garage was dark, with its bare concrete walls and dim lighting, and there was relief that came from knowing that no one could see me behind the tinted windows of my car.
‘Arch, just drop it.’
Those four words had been the last straw, and the frustration that been building up lately had pushed its way out.
There was no way to describe heartache, the searing pain that started in my chest and spread through my body like an unstoppable fire - the hurt that came from the realization that the one person I loved most in this world had felt hesitation and doubt about me. Little hints had been getting dropped, intentionally or not, but I had always brushed them away as my usual tendency to overanalyze everything. Today, however, my fear was proven to be true.
Cook was ashamed of me, of what we had.
I glared down at my hands, and recalled the way Cook had abruptly let go as soon as we came into the building. It had been that way ever since the first day I accompanied him to the studio. Silently and quickly he would pull free from our entangled fingers the second we passed through the glass doors. I never said anything, convincing myself that it was only natural for him to do so. No one could know about us.
I think it had been a little thrilling in the beginning, catching each other’s eyes when the recording engineer was sitting just a few feet away, exchanging small smiles. But the things that made my skin tingle stifled me after awhile, and Cook’s cautious behavior didn’t help.
‘My life has just gotten busier, you know? And now we’re here, enjoying our life together -’
‘Is it because this… what we have… isn’t conventional?’
‘That’s not what I meant, Archie.’
A bitter laugh escaped through my lips.
“You don’t have to lie, Cook,” I whispered into thin air, shutting my eyes to let the tears flow.
I wished that Cook would just tell me that this lifestyle wasn’t working for him. Why didn’t he admit that living together wasn’t what he had expected, that he was powerless against reality?
Then again, I wondered if Cook had already given up and resorted to another way of shielding us from scrutinizing eyes, in the form of a strikingly beautiful woman. A rose that, despite the thorns, suited Cook well and would leave no doubt in the public’s mind that he was normal.
No scandalous secret.
No boyfriend.
No me.
II. David Cook.
I remained rooted in the spot where David had left me, standing so still that heads began to turn as people passed by on their way out. Groaning, I roughly ran a hand through my hair, angrily tugging at the strands caught between my fingers. Deep inside, I was aching to scream at the top of my lungs, in the hopes that it just may relieve the tension that had made my body become completely rigid. But I couldn’t. I was conscious of those around me.
All of the eyes that were watching, all of the ears that were listening, all of the voices that were dying to gossip… Perhaps I had been wrong when I’d convinced myself that this was going to work. Being under a spotlight in cutthroat Hollywood and being in love with someone so unbelievably pure were two conflicting parts of my life that seemed to have finally come head to head. But those two sides were both embedded deeply into my soul, my identity. As they clashed, I was being ripped apart.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to raise a child with David. It would be a dream come true - being a father with the person I loved most. But it wasn’t the same when we were being scrutinized by those whose only interest was to find a reason to splash either of us across the page of a trashy magazine under a tacky headline.
This wasn’t something that I could make a decision about and naively hope that everything would work out. I knew enough about the realities of this industry to be extremely cautious, especially because the minds behind the business were more conservative than I’d imagined. There were execs that knew the formulas on how to mold a celebrity, and they weren’t planning on veering off the deeply paved track anytime soon.
I knew I was hurting David and the thought tore my heart ruthlessly to shreds, but I couldn’t risk anything. His talent was finally being put out there for the world to hear and adore, and all of that could possibly be taken away in an instant if our secret was revealed.
I didn’t want to be the obstacle standing in his way.
+
My feet made barely any noise on the maple floor as I went across the foyer in our apartment. I stopped when I was passed the living room and heard soft breathing coming from the inside.
David was asleep on the sofa, his knees bent and his body curled up like a child’s. When I stepped closer to him, I reflexively clutched at the front of my shirt at the sudden, throbbing pain in my chest. Under the dimmed lighting, I could see the tear streaks on his paled cheeks and the droplets on his dark lashes that hadn’t fallen.
I went into the guest room to grab the comforter off the bed. After I lay it over David’s body, I kneeled down next to him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that he couldn’t hear me.
+
David avoided me the next morning. All that could be heard were the sounds of the milk and cereal being poured. We kept brushing each other as we shuffled around the kitchen, and after awhile I couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Archie,” I called.
He didn’t respond.
“Archie,” I tried again. “Arch, don’t ignore me.”
“… You told me to drop it, Cook. Remember?”
“I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
“… Tell me what’s going on.”
“… The execs thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to bring a date to the VMAs in September. They set me up with Veronica Cortez because she’s a big name right now, and…” I paused to catch my breath. “I told them that it’s not going to happen, Arch. There’s no way I’m… Look, I didn’t know she was going to be there.”
David absorbed the words without batting an eyelash. He simply looked back at me with those striking brown and olive green eyes. He didn’t seem to care very much for my explanation, and his blank expression told me that there was still something amiss. I went up to him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but rather stood there limply like a doll.
“What else aren’t you telling me, Cook?”
“I don’t understand.”
“This isn’t just about Veronica. I don’t care about her as long you love me, Cook. But lately… You’ve been so different, I… I don’t know if we are what we used to be.”
His confession was like a harsh slap across my face and, before I could respond, he turned and grabbed his keys off the counter.
Moments later, I heard the front door close with a crisp click.