Time to talk ...
Title: Journal Entries
Characters: Elena Munez, Marshall Malone (astar_isborn)
Universe(s): A Safe Harbor/Falling Starlight/Rock the Cradle
Timeline: Disenchanted
Rating: H for Heartbreak (Teen)
She went to him. It was only fair and she knew how self-conscious he was about his wheels still. So, holding the present she'd picked up for him in Germany, she knocked on the door and waited. She was about to dig her key out when the door opened and there he was, looking at her with an expression that broke her heart and reminded her just how co dependent she still was on his happiness. Even now. Did he realize it? Did he realize that she was still anxious to discuss her happiness because she worried how he'd react? Because she couldn't stand the look on his face? The never-ending guilt? She loved him, but she was tired of being that outlet. She loved him, but she'd stopped being in love with him a long time ago and it hadn't been until that conversation about Paris, when he talked about how free they'd been and how he hadn't realized that her life never had been, that it had become clear that there were things about her he'd never accepted. Or at least, never really understood. She'd never really been that free-flowing twenty year old he'd been. No, she hadn't had responsibilities beyond the band, but how had he not realized that her primary focus had to be on staying alive? Even now, standing there, she blamed herself. What hadn't she communicated to him? Where had she gone wrong?
He looked like he wanted to say something but instead just let out a sigh and shook his head, rolling backward.
The apartment was laid out in a much more accessible fashion than when she'd last been inside. The chair was tucked deeper in the corner, the coffee table exchanged for an ottoman that could double as a place to sit. There were fewer shelves. He rolled into the kitchen and she followed, noting how much easier he handled his surroundings. Well, good. He needed that.
"You want something to drink?"
She winced at the tone and set the present on the table. "Marshall ..."
"No. Really. Do you want something to drink?"
"Water, sure."
He handed over a bottle from the fridge and she sat at the table, anxious and uncomfortable. Marshall rolled across from her and looked at the small package. "Consolation prize?"
That pissed her off. She sat back and looked at him. Fine, he wanted to pout, he could pout. She wasn't going to let him see how much it rattled her and she'd use her time with Janet next week to discuss this whole mess. She wondered how much of her parent's money she'd spent over the years, working out her feelings regarding Marshall. "Just open it."
It was a journal she'd found at an open market. Hand-made, covered in dark fabric with just a bit of sparkle. The back cover was of the sun rising out of the clouds. It had reminded her of him, of where he was now. It made her think he'd pull through this. She watched him touch the fabric, watched his fingers move over the pages, and it was clear she'd made the right choice.
"Did you make this?" He asked, awe in his tone.
"No," she shook her head. "Though if I'd made one for you, it would have been like that."
"Thank you," he swallowed roughly. "Thank you. This means a lot."
"You mean a lot." She said softly.
He placed the journal down and rolled back from the table a bit. She watched, chewing the last of the gloss off her lips. "Why didn't you tell me, Laniey?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You were here a month and the conversation we had about Jared ... you didn't make it sound like you were sure where things were going. But I'm not an idiot. Why didn't you tell me how you really felt about him?"
"Because I had to get done running and maybe it wasn't ..." she sighed and corrected her wording. "It wasn't fair to run to you. But I was scared and focusing on getting you through things helped put a few things in perspective for me."
"Why don't I believe that?"
"You can believe what you want, Marshall. You always have."
His expression sharpened. "What does that mean?"
She leaned forward, palms up. "Marshall, remember that conversation we had about Paris?"
"Yeah. You told me ... you told me we had vastly different ways of our time together. That you weren't as happy as I was."
"I told you the truth about my head, Marshall. And it's something you never wanted to admit. I told you a truth you should have realized a long time ago. That's what I mean when I say that you've always believed what you want to believe."
"You make it sound like a bad thing that I can believe we could be happy."
"I don't know ..." she sighed. "Maybe, sweetie. Maybe. Because I really took to heart what you said in that conversation. I really appreciated it. But you just ... you don't get it. And maybe you never did."
"Maybe you want to wallow in this shadow that follows you around and it's your excuse when things go south."
He wasn't completely wrong and she allowed him that. "Maybe."
Her concession to his petulant point caught him off guard. She took advantage of his silence.
"We're going in circles, Marshall, and that's been the problem since the day I was discharged from the hospital after that attempt." She tugged off her arm warmers, showing off the new tattoo and the scars he'd always had trouble looking at. And that was the difference between him and Jared. Jared could look. Jared didn't wince. Jared embraced all of it, even while praying that it never happened again. "I'm not some fallen angel, Marshall, and I know that. I'm co-dependent. I'm depressed. I'm anxiety ridden. I'm suicidal. And I always have been. And believe me, it means the world to me that when you look at me, you see so much more. But I don't see it and the fact is, you don't see my reality either. And I can't live up to the pedestal you have me on. That isn't a love I need. It isn't a love I need to be a part of."
"So the pedestal Jared has you on is so much more stable?"
She looked down, putting her words together carefully. "Jared lives in my reality, Marshall."
"You ever think that's a bad thing?"
"All the time. It's why it took me so long to admit my feelings for him. I'm terrified of us getting into some spiral where we only feed off of the bad and not the good. But he doesn't have me on some pedestal of innocence and tenderness. He knows full well what I'm capable of. He doesn't need me all to himself. He doesn't expect me to change everything just because we're in a relationship now. He allows for more than one way of thinking and he knows we're going to be screwed up sometimes."
"And I don't?"
"No." She shook her head. "And sometimes it's endearing but a lot of the time ..."
"It's a cage I put us both in." He sighed. "I've heard it over and over again. Look. I'm not who I was when we broke up. I'm not even who I was before the accident."
"I know. But you're still putting me above your family."
"I can't ... Laniey! Do you get how hard it is to face them?! You don't judge me!"
"They don't either."
"You don't know that!"
"I know how scared I was to face my parents after I tried to kill myself. I know how I slunk around corners, listening for their conversations, taking their worry for judgment. I know that I didn't believe them when they told me they cared and were worried. No, it isn't the same situation at all. But there are similarities and you need to grow up and understand that. I'm not here to be a substitute, okay?"
He stared at her and she looked back down at her hands. She was running out of words. That was always their problem. She'd run out of words and the silences just weren't comfortable.
"It's so easy with you. It always has been. Why don't you understand that?"
"I do. But I'm not giving up who I am, I'm not giving up my life just to ..."
"What? Nurse me through this?"
"You stopped needing a nurse a while ago, Marshall."
"What do I need?"
"A dose of reality dumped on you with cold water." She glared at him. "You are sweet, you are tender, you are gentle, and you are one of the most selfish and self-absorbed people I know." She held up a hand before his tantrum could start. "And see, you hide it under your sweet, gentle nature. You hide it so well. But you expect the world to just come to you and part of it is that fucking fishbowl you were raised in and part of it is how much you're doted on by your family, and part of it is that I and the people in your life are willing to accommodate it."
"Do you know how hard this is?!" He gestured to the wheels.
"So get into therapy. Work through it. I'm not your therapist. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not dropping my life to make yours better. Especially not when there are people who have been trying to connect to you and you're pushing them away."
"The one person I want to connect to doesn't ... I'm right here, Laniey. Why aren't you with me?"
"Because you want me to be nineteen again. You want your memories of Paris."
"You weren't happy then?"
"I was as happy as I ever get, Marshall. I was young and in love and skipping through Paris holding your hand. But I'm not nineteen anymore. I've got a career and a life and I'm sorry that yours has been interrupted and I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you can have a meaningful life again because you know you can. You just have to adjust." She pushed the journal at him. "Marshall, I'm always, always going to love you. But I moved on a long time ago. I just wish you could. I want you to be happy and whole. I want you to have someone who makes you fly and smile and feel young and carefree."
"I just hate that it can't be you."
"Part of me hates that too, you know. I loved what we had. You were my first love and that means so much to me. And it means even more that we can at least try to be friends all these years later."
"I don't know if I really can just be friends, Laniey."
"And that's okay too. I mean ... it hurts, but it's okay."
"How do you handle it so well?"
"I had a lot of years to get over you."
"I'm so sorry for how I acted."
"I know you are. I know." She wanted to hold his hand, but didn't want to push. "But apologies don't always make everything right, Marshall. You broke up with me. Twice. And it's like you forget that part."
"How can I forget it when all I do is relive the stupidest decision I ever made?"
She shook her head. "So what? You'd have silently stewed over how what I needed was what drove you crazy? You'd have resented everything about my life but still been in love with me? That's a recipe for hatred, Marshall. Not love."
"I'd have adjusted."
"When? After I let myself be guilted into not doing a tour? After what? When? Marshall, that's the point of looking back. We don't know how it would have turned out and all of the ifs and whens actually do kill us. I'm sitting here, today, in your kitchen, and I'm functioning. The band is doing well and I'm hanging in there despite this spiral I've been in. And you know what, I have a boyfriend who isn't pushing me to do anything other than not run away from him and let me tell you, that alone is a hard enough thing to do."
He was silent for a long time, running his fingers over the fabric cover of the journal. She let him process because really, this was one of the hardest conversations she'd ever had to have and they'd had some tough ones over the years.
"It's funny," Marshall finally said. "I was always so jealous of JJ because he's so much like me. Just this guy, going through life. And I knew that if you two ever got together, he'd treat you like I had. Because we're similar. But he also got this part of you no one else does. He sits there with you while you write and put ideas together and he sees the part of your brain that keeps you alive and it fucking sucks for a guy like me. And after we broke up, I wanted you to get together with Jared because I was sure at least he'd never hurt you, you know. But you didn't. And I thought maybe ... and now ... now that it's real all I can think is that it isn't fucking fair."
"Life isn't fair, Marshall."
He snorted and kept running his fingers along the fabric of the journal. "I know." After a minute, he raised his head and looked at her. "Does he really love you?"
"Yes."
"Good." He let out a sigh. "And somewhere, I know you're right, you know. But it doesn't make it any easier."
"I know. You think I don't cry when I leave here?"
"That ... makes me feel a little bit better, actually." He chuckled. "You've got it all put together."
"No. I don't. I cover well."
"I know you do. I know." He sucked in a breath. "I'm not that self-absorbed."
She smiled a bit, "You're amazing. You really are."
"Thanks." She could tell he didn't believe her, but pushing it wouldn't help anything. She also sensed the conversation was over and that he needed to process. So did she. Rising, she walked over and kissed his forehead.
"Take care of yourself, Marshall."
"Sounds a bit final ..."
She did link their fingers now. "I'm leaving for three months. I'm on tour all summer. I won't see you for a long time. But don't be a stranger and you can talk whenever you need an ear, okay? But I won't be back. Not for a while."
He looked up at her and she almost broke from the sadness in his eyes. "Thanks, Laniey. For the journal. For everything. I don't deserve it."
"We both fucked up, okay? Now I just want to be happy. I want you to be happy. Please."
He nodded and she knew it wouldn't be easy for him. But she appreciated the gesture. "I'll try."
"Merry Christmas, Marshall."
"Feliz Navidad, Laniey."
She squeezed his hand and then walked away, tears spilling over as she did. When she closed the door, she leaned against it, trying to regain her breath. But she felt good. Lighter. This conversation had to happen. Didn't make it any easier, though. Collecting herself, Elena made her way to the elevator, pulling out her phone as she did so. Her text message alert had gone off.
I'm out of rehearsal if you want to grab dinner. Hope things went okay with Marshall. If you need ice cream and french fries and time alone, just let me know okay? Love you.
Stepping into the elevator, she leaned back against the wall and responded. I need some time, but I can meet up with you for dinner in a couple of hours. Let's go to Ivy. I feel like being an overpriced socialite.
She could see him laughing as he responded. If going to the Ivy makes you an overpriced socialite, I don't know what you are when we actually go to high end places. But if you're buying, I'm in.
With a smile, she responded, I'll pick you up around seven and as the doors opened, she made her way into the parking lot. She didn't want to leave this part of her life completely in the past, but she also knew that she and Marshall both needed to move forward.
Characters: Elena Munez, Marshall Malone (astar_isborn)
Universe(s): A Safe Harbor/Falling Starlight/Rock the Cradle
Timeline: Disenchanted
Rating: H for Heartbreak (Teen)
She went to him. It was only fair and she knew how self-conscious he was about his wheels still. So, holding the present she'd picked up for him in Germany, she knocked on the door and waited. She was about to dig her key out when the door opened and there he was, looking at her with an expression that broke her heart and reminded her just how co dependent she still was on his happiness. Even now. Did he realize it? Did he realize that she was still anxious to discuss her happiness because she worried how he'd react? Because she couldn't stand the look on his face? The never-ending guilt? She loved him, but she was tired of being that outlet. She loved him, but she'd stopped being in love with him a long time ago and it hadn't been until that conversation about Paris, when he talked about how free they'd been and how he hadn't realized that her life never had been, that it had become clear that there were things about her he'd never accepted. Or at least, never really understood. She'd never really been that free-flowing twenty year old he'd been. No, she hadn't had responsibilities beyond the band, but how had he not realized that her primary focus had to be on staying alive? Even now, standing there, she blamed herself. What hadn't she communicated to him? Where had she gone wrong?
He looked like he wanted to say something but instead just let out a sigh and shook his head, rolling backward.
The apartment was laid out in a much more accessible fashion than when she'd last been inside. The chair was tucked deeper in the corner, the coffee table exchanged for an ottoman that could double as a place to sit. There were fewer shelves. He rolled into the kitchen and she followed, noting how much easier he handled his surroundings. Well, good. He needed that.
"You want something to drink?"
She winced at the tone and set the present on the table. "Marshall ..."
"No. Really. Do you want something to drink?"
"Water, sure."
He handed over a bottle from the fridge and she sat at the table, anxious and uncomfortable. Marshall rolled across from her and looked at the small package. "Consolation prize?"
That pissed her off. She sat back and looked at him. Fine, he wanted to pout, he could pout. She wasn't going to let him see how much it rattled her and she'd use her time with Janet next week to discuss this whole mess. She wondered how much of her parent's money she'd spent over the years, working out her feelings regarding Marshall. "Just open it."
It was a journal she'd found at an open market. Hand-made, covered in dark fabric with just a bit of sparkle. The back cover was of the sun rising out of the clouds. It had reminded her of him, of where he was now. It made her think he'd pull through this. She watched him touch the fabric, watched his fingers move over the pages, and it was clear she'd made the right choice.
"Did you make this?" He asked, awe in his tone.
"No," she shook her head. "Though if I'd made one for you, it would have been like that."
"Thank you," he swallowed roughly. "Thank you. This means a lot."
"You mean a lot." She said softly.
He placed the journal down and rolled back from the table a bit. She watched, chewing the last of the gloss off her lips. "Why didn't you tell me, Laniey?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You were here a month and the conversation we had about Jared ... you didn't make it sound like you were sure where things were going. But I'm not an idiot. Why didn't you tell me how you really felt about him?"
"Because I had to get done running and maybe it wasn't ..." she sighed and corrected her wording. "It wasn't fair to run to you. But I was scared and focusing on getting you through things helped put a few things in perspective for me."
"Why don't I believe that?"
"You can believe what you want, Marshall. You always have."
His expression sharpened. "What does that mean?"
She leaned forward, palms up. "Marshall, remember that conversation we had about Paris?"
"Yeah. You told me ... you told me we had vastly different ways of our time together. That you weren't as happy as I was."
"I told you the truth about my head, Marshall. And it's something you never wanted to admit. I told you a truth you should have realized a long time ago. That's what I mean when I say that you've always believed what you want to believe."
"You make it sound like a bad thing that I can believe we could be happy."
"I don't know ..." she sighed. "Maybe, sweetie. Maybe. Because I really took to heart what you said in that conversation. I really appreciated it. But you just ... you don't get it. And maybe you never did."
"Maybe you want to wallow in this shadow that follows you around and it's your excuse when things go south."
He wasn't completely wrong and she allowed him that. "Maybe."
Her concession to his petulant point caught him off guard. She took advantage of his silence.
"We're going in circles, Marshall, and that's been the problem since the day I was discharged from the hospital after that attempt." She tugged off her arm warmers, showing off the new tattoo and the scars he'd always had trouble looking at. And that was the difference between him and Jared. Jared could look. Jared didn't wince. Jared embraced all of it, even while praying that it never happened again. "I'm not some fallen angel, Marshall, and I know that. I'm co-dependent. I'm depressed. I'm anxiety ridden. I'm suicidal. And I always have been. And believe me, it means the world to me that when you look at me, you see so much more. But I don't see it and the fact is, you don't see my reality either. And I can't live up to the pedestal you have me on. That isn't a love I need. It isn't a love I need to be a part of."
"So the pedestal Jared has you on is so much more stable?"
She looked down, putting her words together carefully. "Jared lives in my reality, Marshall."
"You ever think that's a bad thing?"
"All the time. It's why it took me so long to admit my feelings for him. I'm terrified of us getting into some spiral where we only feed off of the bad and not the good. But he doesn't have me on some pedestal of innocence and tenderness. He knows full well what I'm capable of. He doesn't need me all to himself. He doesn't expect me to change everything just because we're in a relationship now. He allows for more than one way of thinking and he knows we're going to be screwed up sometimes."
"And I don't?"
"No." She shook her head. "And sometimes it's endearing but a lot of the time ..."
"It's a cage I put us both in." He sighed. "I've heard it over and over again. Look. I'm not who I was when we broke up. I'm not even who I was before the accident."
"I know. But you're still putting me above your family."
"I can't ... Laniey! Do you get how hard it is to face them?! You don't judge me!"
"They don't either."
"You don't know that!"
"I know how scared I was to face my parents after I tried to kill myself. I know how I slunk around corners, listening for their conversations, taking their worry for judgment. I know that I didn't believe them when they told me they cared and were worried. No, it isn't the same situation at all. But there are similarities and you need to grow up and understand that. I'm not here to be a substitute, okay?"
He stared at her and she looked back down at her hands. She was running out of words. That was always their problem. She'd run out of words and the silences just weren't comfortable.
"It's so easy with you. It always has been. Why don't you understand that?"
"I do. But I'm not giving up who I am, I'm not giving up my life just to ..."
"What? Nurse me through this?"
"You stopped needing a nurse a while ago, Marshall."
"What do I need?"
"A dose of reality dumped on you with cold water." She glared at him. "You are sweet, you are tender, you are gentle, and you are one of the most selfish and self-absorbed people I know." She held up a hand before his tantrum could start. "And see, you hide it under your sweet, gentle nature. You hide it so well. But you expect the world to just come to you and part of it is that fucking fishbowl you were raised in and part of it is how much you're doted on by your family, and part of it is that I and the people in your life are willing to accommodate it."
"Do you know how hard this is?!" He gestured to the wheels.
"So get into therapy. Work through it. I'm not your therapist. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not dropping my life to make yours better. Especially not when there are people who have been trying to connect to you and you're pushing them away."
"The one person I want to connect to doesn't ... I'm right here, Laniey. Why aren't you with me?"
"Because you want me to be nineteen again. You want your memories of Paris."
"You weren't happy then?"
"I was as happy as I ever get, Marshall. I was young and in love and skipping through Paris holding your hand. But I'm not nineteen anymore. I've got a career and a life and I'm sorry that yours has been interrupted and I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you can have a meaningful life again because you know you can. You just have to adjust." She pushed the journal at him. "Marshall, I'm always, always going to love you. But I moved on a long time ago. I just wish you could. I want you to be happy and whole. I want you to have someone who makes you fly and smile and feel young and carefree."
"I just hate that it can't be you."
"Part of me hates that too, you know. I loved what we had. You were my first love and that means so much to me. And it means even more that we can at least try to be friends all these years later."
"I don't know if I really can just be friends, Laniey."
"And that's okay too. I mean ... it hurts, but it's okay."
"How do you handle it so well?"
"I had a lot of years to get over you."
"I'm so sorry for how I acted."
"I know you are. I know." She wanted to hold his hand, but didn't want to push. "But apologies don't always make everything right, Marshall. You broke up with me. Twice. And it's like you forget that part."
"How can I forget it when all I do is relive the stupidest decision I ever made?"
She shook her head. "So what? You'd have silently stewed over how what I needed was what drove you crazy? You'd have resented everything about my life but still been in love with me? That's a recipe for hatred, Marshall. Not love."
"I'd have adjusted."
"When? After I let myself be guilted into not doing a tour? After what? When? Marshall, that's the point of looking back. We don't know how it would have turned out and all of the ifs and whens actually do kill us. I'm sitting here, today, in your kitchen, and I'm functioning. The band is doing well and I'm hanging in there despite this spiral I've been in. And you know what, I have a boyfriend who isn't pushing me to do anything other than not run away from him and let me tell you, that alone is a hard enough thing to do."
He was silent for a long time, running his fingers over the fabric cover of the journal. She let him process because really, this was one of the hardest conversations she'd ever had to have and they'd had some tough ones over the years.
"It's funny," Marshall finally said. "I was always so jealous of JJ because he's so much like me. Just this guy, going through life. And I knew that if you two ever got together, he'd treat you like I had. Because we're similar. But he also got this part of you no one else does. He sits there with you while you write and put ideas together and he sees the part of your brain that keeps you alive and it fucking sucks for a guy like me. And after we broke up, I wanted you to get together with Jared because I was sure at least he'd never hurt you, you know. But you didn't. And I thought maybe ... and now ... now that it's real all I can think is that it isn't fucking fair."
"Life isn't fair, Marshall."
He snorted and kept running his fingers along the fabric of the journal. "I know." After a minute, he raised his head and looked at her. "Does he really love you?"
"Yes."
"Good." He let out a sigh. "And somewhere, I know you're right, you know. But it doesn't make it any easier."
"I know. You think I don't cry when I leave here?"
"That ... makes me feel a little bit better, actually." He chuckled. "You've got it all put together."
"No. I don't. I cover well."
"I know you do. I know." He sucked in a breath. "I'm not that self-absorbed."
She smiled a bit, "You're amazing. You really are."
"Thanks." She could tell he didn't believe her, but pushing it wouldn't help anything. She also sensed the conversation was over and that he needed to process. So did she. Rising, she walked over and kissed his forehead.
"Take care of yourself, Marshall."
"Sounds a bit final ..."
She did link their fingers now. "I'm leaving for three months. I'm on tour all summer. I won't see you for a long time. But don't be a stranger and you can talk whenever you need an ear, okay? But I won't be back. Not for a while."
He looked up at her and she almost broke from the sadness in his eyes. "Thanks, Laniey. For the journal. For everything. I don't deserve it."
"We both fucked up, okay? Now I just want to be happy. I want you to be happy. Please."
He nodded and she knew it wouldn't be easy for him. But she appreciated the gesture. "I'll try."
"Merry Christmas, Marshall."
"Feliz Navidad, Laniey."
She squeezed his hand and then walked away, tears spilling over as she did. When she closed the door, she leaned against it, trying to regain her breath. But she felt good. Lighter. This conversation had to happen. Didn't make it any easier, though. Collecting herself, Elena made her way to the elevator, pulling out her phone as she did so. Her text message alert had gone off.
I'm out of rehearsal if you want to grab dinner. Hope things went okay with Marshall. If you need ice cream and french fries and time alone, just let me know okay? Love you.
Stepping into the elevator, she leaned back against the wall and responded. I need some time, but I can meet up with you for dinner in a couple of hours. Let's go to Ivy. I feel like being an overpriced socialite.
She could see him laughing as he responded. If going to the Ivy makes you an overpriced socialite, I don't know what you are when we actually go to high end places. But if you're buying, I'm in.
With a smile, she responded, I'll pick you up around seven and as the doors opened, she made her way into the parking lot. She didn't want to leave this part of her life completely in the past, but she also knew that she and Marshall both needed to move forward.