RP: Love Is Not a Victory March
Date: Tuesday, 9 July 1999 | Wee Hours
Characters: Angelina Johnson, Lukas Callahan (NPC)
Location: Muggle London
Status: Private
Summary: Angelina faces the truth, and it hurts.
Status: Complete
Angelina stared at herself in the mirror. "What are you doing?" she asked herself. Her reflection had no response, so she turned away, unwilling to look herself in the eyes anymore.
With a long, weighty sigh, she pulled on her shoes and stood in her living room. Lukas had invited her over to his flat. After all, she needed to get a stack of books for Cho--books he thought she would enjoy.
He wanted to cook her dinner. Nothing fancy, he’d said. She was excited to see him, but a stab of anxiety immediately followed those feelings, leaving her feeling raw and uncertain. Going to Lukas’ flat meant they would be alone. There would be no people around to keep her from getting too close to him, letting him too far inside her heart. Was it too late for that? Was there no going back?
"No," she said aloud. "It’s not fair to him." Her voice fell flat in the room. What’s not fair, she wondered. The fact that he knew little to nothing about her or the fact that she refused to tell him the truth, that she was, in essence, leading him on? She groaned, grabbed her wand, and walked out of her flat. She felt like a prat, but she wanted to see him. She needed to see him.
* * * *
Lukas’ flat was modest but comfortable. He lived alone in a single bedroom flat with a large window that overlooked a garden. Angelina stood there after dinner (which had been takeaway) and hugged her arms to her chest. She felt happy...yet...
"What’s wrong?" Lukas asked. He stood behind her and rubbed his hands gently up and down her arms. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling her resistance splinter beneath his touch.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled slowly. "It’s...nothing," she said quietly.
He turned her slowly, and she was afraid to look him in the eyes. What would she see? Would he send her away? Would he demand to know the truth? Demand to know what she was always hiding from him?
Lukas brushed his thumb against her cheek. "It looks like something," he whispered. She closed her eyes again. "Is it me?"
Her eyes flew open. "What? No, of course n--"
Lukas pulled her against him, and she was so surprised, she gasped. Then he kissed her. Part of her wanted to protest, wanted to keep him a safe distance away, but it had been so long since she’d been properly kissed. She sighed, and he slid one hand up her back to her neck and kept his other hand on her lower back.
Angelina couldn’t stop; she could barely think at all.
* * * *
Angelina knew it had to be well past midnight. She lay in Lukas’ bed wearing one of his shirts, and he had been quiet for so long, she thought he had fallen asleep. She rolled her head to the side to look at him and found his eyes were open. He looked at her.
"Who is Angelina Johnson?" he asked and grinned.
"What do you mean?"
"Let’s see...for example, where does she live? Where does she work? Where did she go to school? Why does she never want to answer those questions?"
Angelina looked away. She had difficulty swallowing, and she stared up at the dark ceiling. "It’s complicated," she finally said.
"Complicated like you’re really married and your husband would kill me?"
Angelina laughed, but even she knew it sounded too tight, too weary. "I’m not married, Lukas."
"Then what is it? Why can’t you tell me?" Lukas rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. He touched her arm with his fingertips. "I really care about you. You should know that."
She nodded and wanted to speak, but the knot in her throat choked off the air. She tried to clear it. "It’s not fair to you. The truth, I mean." She looked at him, and he frowned.
"I don’t understand."
"I know," she said again. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Bloody hell, was she going to cry? She balled her hands into fists by her sides.
Then he was smoothing her hair from her face. "The truth can’t be that wretched."
"Oh, you have no idea," she said sarcastically.
"Ang," he said softly, "you can tell me. If you have some sort of dodgy past, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me."
Angelina sat up and pulled the sheet to her chest. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted. She had ruined a lovely night. Being with Lukas was almost perfect. Almost because half their relationship was left in shadows. He deserved more--she knew that. So then, what was she doing? She was keeping him from a decent relationship with a bird who would be better for him. She threw her legs off the bed and made to get up, but Lukas grabbed her.
"Wait, where are you going?" he asked.
"I should leave," she whispered. She wiggled out of his grasp and began collecting her clothes. Bugger where were her pants? Thinking of how she got out of her pants made her legs feel like jelly. She swayed on her feet. Then Lukas was there with his hands on her arms, standing there in his just his pants. Merlin, he was handsome; she could hardly be expected to concentrate.
"Don’t do this, Ang," he said in a voice that bordered on pleading. "What you’re hiding from me can’t be that bloody awful."
"It’s not awful," she said. She was frustrated. “It’s...it’s...” It’s who I am.
"It’s what?"
"It’s..." Her voice trembled. Damn. It wasn’t fair to thrust Lukas into a world he knew nothing about it, to shatter his knowledge of the truth. To force him to unwillingly accept that there was a world of magic all around him would be wrong. He hadn’t asked for that. She rubbed her hands down her face and could feel them trembling.
But she liked him so much. She’d been so stupid. Falling for a Muggle. Is that what she’d done? Had she fallen for him? Damn it.
"We can’t do this. It's not right. I’m s-sorry. So sorry," she said, disgusted at the weakness in her voice. She yanked on her pants, pulled off his shirt so she could put hers on, put on her shoes, and hurried for the door.
"It’s the middle of the night," he called after her.
Angelina fumbled with the locks on the door. Her breaths were ragged, and she knew the tears would come at any moment.
"Angelina," he said, and his voice was soft but edged with the disappointed ring of sadness.
She turned to see him standing in his bedroom doorway, haloed by the moonlight pouring in through the window behind him. He looked gorgeous and sad.
He shook his head. "You don’t have to leave like this," he said. "I’ll understand."
"No," she whispered. "You...we’re not the same, Lukas. Find yourself a nice normal girl." She turned, opened the door, and walked out.
She made it down one flight of stairs before the tears poured from her eyes. When she stepped out into the street, it was nearly deserted, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. She didn’t want to go home, but where else could she go?
Characters: Angelina Johnson, Lukas Callahan (NPC)
Location: Muggle London
Status: Private
Summary: Angelina faces the truth, and it hurts.
Status: Complete
Angelina stared at herself in the mirror. "What are you doing?" she asked herself. Her reflection had no response, so she turned away, unwilling to look herself in the eyes anymore.
With a long, weighty sigh, she pulled on her shoes and stood in her living room. Lukas had invited her over to his flat. After all, she needed to get a stack of books for Cho--books he thought she would enjoy.
He wanted to cook her dinner. Nothing fancy, he’d said. She was excited to see him, but a stab of anxiety immediately followed those feelings, leaving her feeling raw and uncertain. Going to Lukas’ flat meant they would be alone. There would be no people around to keep her from getting too close to him, letting him too far inside her heart. Was it too late for that? Was there no going back?
"No," she said aloud. "It’s not fair to him." Her voice fell flat in the room. What’s not fair, she wondered. The fact that he knew little to nothing about her or the fact that she refused to tell him the truth, that she was, in essence, leading him on? She groaned, grabbed her wand, and walked out of her flat. She felt like a prat, but she wanted to see him. She needed to see him.
* * * *
Lukas’ flat was modest but comfortable. He lived alone in a single bedroom flat with a large window that overlooked a garden. Angelina stood there after dinner (which had been takeaway) and hugged her arms to her chest. She felt happy...yet...
"What’s wrong?" Lukas asked. He stood behind her and rubbed his hands gently up and down her arms. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling her resistance splinter beneath his touch.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled slowly. "It’s...nothing," she said quietly.
He turned her slowly, and she was afraid to look him in the eyes. What would she see? Would he send her away? Would he demand to know the truth? Demand to know what she was always hiding from him?
Lukas brushed his thumb against her cheek. "It looks like something," he whispered. She closed her eyes again. "Is it me?"
Her eyes flew open. "What? No, of course n--"
Lukas pulled her against him, and she was so surprised, she gasped. Then he kissed her. Part of her wanted to protest, wanted to keep him a safe distance away, but it had been so long since she’d been properly kissed. She sighed, and he slid one hand up her back to her neck and kept his other hand on her lower back.
Angelina couldn’t stop; she could barely think at all.
* * * *
Angelina knew it had to be well past midnight. She lay in Lukas’ bed wearing one of his shirts, and he had been quiet for so long, she thought he had fallen asleep. She rolled her head to the side to look at him and found his eyes were open. He looked at her.
"Who is Angelina Johnson?" he asked and grinned.
"What do you mean?"
"Let’s see...for example, where does she live? Where does she work? Where did she go to school? Why does she never want to answer those questions?"
Angelina looked away. She had difficulty swallowing, and she stared up at the dark ceiling. "It’s complicated," she finally said.
"Complicated like you’re really married and your husband would kill me?"
Angelina laughed, but even she knew it sounded too tight, too weary. "I’m not married, Lukas."
"Then what is it? Why can’t you tell me?" Lukas rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. He touched her arm with his fingertips. "I really care about you. You should know that."
She nodded and wanted to speak, but the knot in her throat choked off the air. She tried to clear it. "It’s not fair to you. The truth, I mean." She looked at him, and he frowned.
"I don’t understand."
"I know," she said again. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Bloody hell, was she going to cry? She balled her hands into fists by her sides.
Then he was smoothing her hair from her face. "The truth can’t be that wretched."
"Oh, you have no idea," she said sarcastically.
"Ang," he said softly, "you can tell me. If you have some sort of dodgy past, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me."
Angelina sat up and pulled the sheet to her chest. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted. She had ruined a lovely night. Being with Lukas was almost perfect. Almost because half their relationship was left in shadows. He deserved more--she knew that. So then, what was she doing? She was keeping him from a decent relationship with a bird who would be better for him. She threw her legs off the bed and made to get up, but Lukas grabbed her.
"Wait, where are you going?" he asked.
"I should leave," she whispered. She wiggled out of his grasp and began collecting her clothes. Bugger where were her pants? Thinking of how she got out of her pants made her legs feel like jelly. She swayed on her feet. Then Lukas was there with his hands on her arms, standing there in his just his pants. Merlin, he was handsome; she could hardly be expected to concentrate.
"Don’t do this, Ang," he said in a voice that bordered on pleading. "What you’re hiding from me can’t be that bloody awful."
"It’s not awful," she said. She was frustrated. “It’s...it’s...” It’s who I am.
"It’s what?"
"It’s..." Her voice trembled. Damn. It wasn’t fair to thrust Lukas into a world he knew nothing about it, to shatter his knowledge of the truth. To force him to unwillingly accept that there was a world of magic all around him would be wrong. He hadn’t asked for that. She rubbed her hands down her face and could feel them trembling.
But she liked him so much. She’d been so stupid. Falling for a Muggle. Is that what she’d done? Had she fallen for him? Damn it.
"We can’t do this. It's not right. I’m s-sorry. So sorry," she said, disgusted at the weakness in her voice. She yanked on her pants, pulled off his shirt so she could put hers on, put on her shoes, and hurried for the door.
"It’s the middle of the night," he called after her.
Angelina fumbled with the locks on the door. Her breaths were ragged, and she knew the tears would come at any moment.
"Angelina," he said, and his voice was soft but edged with the disappointed ring of sadness.
She turned to see him standing in his bedroom doorway, haloed by the moonlight pouring in through the window behind him. He looked gorgeous and sad.
He shook his head. "You don’t have to leave like this," he said. "I’ll understand."
"No," she whispered. "You...we’re not the same, Lukas. Find yourself a nice normal girl." She turned, opened the door, and walked out.
She made it down one flight of stairs before the tears poured from her eyes. When she stepped out into the street, it was nearly deserted, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. She didn’t want to go home, but where else could she go?