(no subject)
Title: Only One (1/4)
Author: me
Rating: pg-13
Summary: "You're leaving me again. Today."
Disclaimer: i own NOTHING.
Author's Notes: this is angsty and angsty and angsty. mhmmm. i normally don't write in first person, i can't stand writing in it lol. but this just came out this way. there will be a sequel. hell im thinking this might turn into a four part thingy. MAYBE. also: FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT READ THE 3 CHAPS OF "NOLI" THAT WERE UP, THAT STORY IS OVER AND DONE WITH. I CAN'T FINISH IT. PART OF IT IS LAKC OF COMMENTS/FEEDBACK, PART OF IT DUE TO THE FACT THAT IT JUST WASN'T CLICKING IN MY MIND. SORRRRRY. also the title is from yellowcard's "only one".
Only One
You’re leaving me again.
Today.
Your suitcases are packed and sitting on the sidewalk just outside the open front door. You’re fiddling around making sure you have everything. You always were the forgetful one when it came to packing. I always had to go around the house twice to see if you left anything. But it never fails to make me smile. Except this time.
I’m watching you from the stairs, sitting here like some kind of lost little boy. You have been pointedly ignoring the tears, the way I’m looking at you. It’s almost like you can’t stand to look or else you will stay and not leave me. I’m screaming at you silently-I have been for a while now-but you won’t listen to me. It’s been a week and you haven’t been listening.
“Kris, please,” I mutter and it sounds so broken and so unlike me that it’s kind of scary. How can one person leave me like this? So broken hearted and ready to burst that it nearly drags me to the ground?
“Adam don’t-“ you start to say but then you stop and clamp your mouth shut. Why can’t you just say what needs to be said? You don’t love me, you never did, you always loved someone else, it was never supposed to be this way.
I’m up and marching down the stairs to you before I can stop myself. I stare into your deep, pretty eyes and it reminds me too much of all the times we-No. Those times are over; they’re finished. Right now, though, your eyes aren’t pretty and deep and all the things that made me fall in love with you. Right now they’re emotionless, pale, void of any kind of sadness or love or happiness or anything really. It kind of hurts seeing you so…not you. You’re not Kris Allen who has a big heart and an open mind and a great personality. You’re Kris Allen, heartless and cruel because in a moment of weakness you gave up what we had to go back. Something came up.
Pregnant. I remember the day she called, just last week, while you were still in my bed warm and sated and boneless, and told you that she went to the doctors to confirm it. The look you gave me when you told me nearly broke me in half but you just plastered on a fake smile and kissed me and then you left to go to her. You didn’t call for hours and I just knew that you…that you had made your choice.
“Please?” I whisper and cup your cheeks in my hands. They’re wet and it’s then I realize you’re crying or have been. Silent tears that mean so little to me because apparently I mean so little to you.
“We can’t,” you mutter and break away, stumbling back and your back hits the wall by the door. Some kind of sound, a whimper maybe, escapes and I can’t help it. You’re tearing me up inside and I’m starting to wonder if you really even realize it. Surely a week of packing your shit up and ignoring me would give you some kind of clue as to how I’ve been feeling.
Then, suddenly, you’re here in front of me and hugging me around the waist tightly. It feels so much like old times, at the beginning of the show, that I almost shove you away and push you out the door before you make it so much more complicated. You squeeze once, tightly, and then you’re stepping away from me, eyes downcast and wet.
“Kris.” You glance up at me, to the open door, and to the car where she’s waiting. “Don’t go.” Before you can protest I grab hold of your chin and fuse our lips together one last time. You moan and fall into it, hand balling up in my shirt, the other sliding through my hair and holding on. You always were so pretty and desperate when we kissed.
This kiss, this last kiss, feels so much like goodbye and a finale that my heart finally breaks the last remaining inch and it stings. “Leave, get out,” I push you away this time. Your cheeks are flushed and damp with tears and it takes everything in me not to close the door and lock you in the house, never to see the real world again. But I’m not that selfish and I’m not that heartless and I couldn’t do that do you. I love you too much.
“Adam-“
“Get out of my fucking house!”
Your eyes go wide for a brief moment, and then you’re nodding and walking out the door. My resolve crumbles and I reach out, tips of my fingers brushing the collar of your stupid plaid shirt, “Kris.” You don’t feel it, or so I think, and keep walking. My heart fell somewhere near the bottom of stomach a long time ago at the realization that this time it’s real.
As you’re picking up your bags and heading for the car, I realize with a great sense of sadness that this time it isn’t a sleek black car waiting to take you to your waiting tour bus. This time it isn’t me dropping you off at the airport to fly out to this meeting, that photo shoot. This time it’s Katy and nine long months waiting for you in some shiny new car I’ve never seen before. The trunk slams closed and you trudge to the passenger side, as if every step is weighing down on you heavily and you can’t stand to walk another foot. I see your hesitation as you grasp the door handle and pull the door open.
You look back at me, standing in the open doorway, heart broken in pieces on the ground, and you smile. You fucking smile. I see the past months, the past two years of our friendship and affairs and parties and tours and memories in that smile. You won’t forget, you never will. I know that much. Even if you stop talking to me because you think it might be better for a while and even if I ignore everything that reminds of you, they will still be here. Neither of us will really ever forget.
I watch you slide into the car and close the door. There is no final longing look out the window like in the movies. There’s only the car pulling away from the curb and you leaning over to kiss Katy on the cheek. I blink fast, tears coming hot and heavy, but I won’t cry for you anymore. Never again.
Because you’re leaving me again.
Permanently.
(also i created a separate journal for my writings and shit: http://mywritings09.livejournal.com if anyone wants to check it out)