Fic: i want to live and die in a small apartment
Title to Margot and the Nuclear So and So's Cheap Motel Room.
no one ever leaves their home to go somewhere they detest
Zac/Van/Ash - AU HSM RPF
PG | 4,332 words
In which a triangle takes shape.
Weatherman says the day's high ought to roll over into triple digits. It's not there yet, but damn close. Ash feels sweat beading between her shoulder blades, running down her back like slippery fingers. When she sees Zac, he's on the other side of the fence waiting for her. He's leaning up against the Cordoba's hood like the metal isn't burning a hole through his pants. Ash keeps walking, eyes forward.
“Where are you going?” Zac calls. He doesn't sound angry, exactly. Not at all. He sounds amused, even. “I know where you live.”
Ash brings a tired hand to her face and pushes her hair out of her eyes. The shoes she's wearing are killing her feet, and she's still got on this goddamn dress. Zac keeps talking.
“Ash,” he says, tired now. “Stop for a minute. Come on, so we can talk.”
Ash keeps putting one foot in front of the other, three-inch heels spearing the sun-bleached dirt at the edge of the lot. “I've got nothing to say to you, Zac.”
“Maybe I've got something to say to you.” The edge in his voice pulls her up short, like she's met the edge of a cliff-no way out but down. “So, listen, would you?”
Ash stops where she is and squares her shoulders in Zac's direction. She's glad for this fence between them; she's even wishing it were a solid wall, that she didn't have to look at him while they did this. She kept her eyes glued to his feet and she could tell by the way they were planted how the rest of him was standing. He's bent in towards her. That's how Zac is; he gravitates towards people. Then he pulls them in and you're so caught up in the orbit you don't realize it means you'll be dancing around him forever.
“Yeah, I'm listening.”
“What are you doing here?”
Ash's eyes begin the slow journey up to his face. They take respite at Zac's knees. “I'm working. Why else would I be here?”
Ash can feel Zac's gaze honed on her face, concentrated like a laser beam. Ash shakes her head to try and kill that burn that's starting behind her eyes. Her voice comes out smaller than she means it to: “I had nowhere else to go.”
Zac swings an arm up and it flies through Ash's field of vision before disappearing again. Her eyes are locked on his chest now, like she's trying to see the heart beating between his ribs. Ash is feeling that pull again. Zac is leaning up against the fence now, head ducked down and the sun behind his eyes.
He tells her, voice gone soft, “It's not like you can't come home.”
That's how Ash gets sucked in again. This is when she feels it-perigee-and she can't keep herself from reaching out and gripping the fence with both hands. Her fingers coil around the old metal and her knuckles whiten where the chain links. She wants to know how she's supposed to just come home.
“You can always come home, Ash.” Now Ash thinks she had it wrong. That pull she's feeling. Her whole body's taught, like someone's gotten a string under her skin and is tugging, tugging. Zac's got her like a black hole. From the way he's standing (she looks up and he's blocking out the sun) to the way he's staring her down, there's no way she's getting loose. See, what most people don't know about black holes is that they don't actually suck at all. Anything that gets too close just sort of falls in. She's sinking fast.
“This wasn't what I wanted,” Ash says.
“What wasn't?” His tone is a surprise. It's certainty feigning ignorance. Like he doesn't already know.
“With--” Ash starts. Her voice cracks on the words and she's choking on the name. “With Van.”
Zac's doe-eyes narrow and he turns his head to one side, cocked like a gun. His lips are pursed and lines sprout on his forehead as he furrows his brow. He doesn't believe her, but Ash doesn't know how else to say it. She wants to clarify, that maybe it was what she wanted, but this was absolutely not how she wanted it.
Ash wants it to be the three of them, like it always has been. She wants those days back when three was an even number and no one was the odd man out, because this? She doesn't see how this is going to work. Three Musketeers turned into triangle and triangle turned into tripod. This feels like someone kicking at her leg; if she goes down this whole thing is going to collapse.
Ash needs them both to keep standing.
“I'm sorry,” is all she can say. “I never wanted it to be like this.”
Zac must hear the anguish she's trying to keep out of her voice, because he has to tear his gaze away. If anyone could understand how impossible this is to turn away from, it's Zac. He knows what it's like to want Van in your life. To need her there.
“I need her, too,” Zac says. Ash hadn't realized she'd been speaking aloud. Zac looks back up at her then, fear like a shadow across his face. The way his shoulders slump make something inside Ash ache; it's like he's afraid he'll never the sun again. “You wouldn't take her away from me, would you?”
Ash's grip is so tight her hands are getting sore. She's shaking her head before she can even think to say no. Suddenly, she hates that this fence is here, that Zac parked on the other side of it. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to extend a hand and rest it on Zac's chest so she could feel his heart beating. There's no way she would ever do something to break it.
It hurts her, now, that she can't reach him.
“I love you,” she says. It's true. He's her best friend and half the light in her life. She loves him, but. But. It's awful and horrible and wonderful, but she loves Van, too.
Eventually, Ash lets Zac take her home. When they walk in the door, there's Van, sitting cross-legged on their threadbare couch. She smiles at them both, says I'm so glad you're home.
part one . part two . part three . primer
no one ever leaves their home to go somewhere they detest
Zac/Van/Ash - AU HSM RPF
PG | 4,332 words
In which a triangle takes shape.
Weatherman says the day's high ought to roll over into triple digits. It's not there yet, but damn close. Ash feels sweat beading between her shoulder blades, running down her back like slippery fingers. When she sees Zac, he's on the other side of the fence waiting for her. He's leaning up against the Cordoba's hood like the metal isn't burning a hole through his pants. Ash keeps walking, eyes forward.
“Where are you going?” Zac calls. He doesn't sound angry, exactly. Not at all. He sounds amused, even. “I know where you live.”
Ash brings a tired hand to her face and pushes her hair out of her eyes. The shoes she's wearing are killing her feet, and she's still got on this goddamn dress. Zac keeps talking.
“Ash,” he says, tired now. “Stop for a minute. Come on, so we can talk.”
Ash keeps putting one foot in front of the other, three-inch heels spearing the sun-bleached dirt at the edge of the lot. “I've got nothing to say to you, Zac.”
“Maybe I've got something to say to you.” The edge in his voice pulls her up short, like she's met the edge of a cliff-no way out but down. “So, listen, would you?”
Ash stops where she is and squares her shoulders in Zac's direction. She's glad for this fence between them; she's even wishing it were a solid wall, that she didn't have to look at him while they did this. She kept her eyes glued to his feet and she could tell by the way they were planted how the rest of him was standing. He's bent in towards her. That's how Zac is; he gravitates towards people. Then he pulls them in and you're so caught up in the orbit you don't realize it means you'll be dancing around him forever.
“Yeah, I'm listening.”
“What are you doing here?”
Ash's eyes begin the slow journey up to his face. They take respite at Zac's knees. “I'm working. Why else would I be here?”
Ash can feel Zac's gaze honed on her face, concentrated like a laser beam. Ash shakes her head to try and kill that burn that's starting behind her eyes. Her voice comes out smaller than she means it to: “I had nowhere else to go.”
Zac swings an arm up and it flies through Ash's field of vision before disappearing again. Her eyes are locked on his chest now, like she's trying to see the heart beating between his ribs. Ash is feeling that pull again. Zac is leaning up against the fence now, head ducked down and the sun behind his eyes.
He tells her, voice gone soft, “It's not like you can't come home.”
That's how Ash gets sucked in again. This is when she feels it-perigee-and she can't keep herself from reaching out and gripping the fence with both hands. Her fingers coil around the old metal and her knuckles whiten where the chain links. She wants to know how she's supposed to just come home.
“You can always come home, Ash.” Now Ash thinks she had it wrong. That pull she's feeling. Her whole body's taught, like someone's gotten a string under her skin and is tugging, tugging. Zac's got her like a black hole. From the way he's standing (she looks up and he's blocking out the sun) to the way he's staring her down, there's no way she's getting loose. See, what most people don't know about black holes is that they don't actually suck at all. Anything that gets too close just sort of falls in. She's sinking fast.
“This wasn't what I wanted,” Ash says.
“What wasn't?” His tone is a surprise. It's certainty feigning ignorance. Like he doesn't already know.
“With--” Ash starts. Her voice cracks on the words and she's choking on the name. “With Van.”
Zac's doe-eyes narrow and he turns his head to one side, cocked like a gun. His lips are pursed and lines sprout on his forehead as he furrows his brow. He doesn't believe her, but Ash doesn't know how else to say it. She wants to clarify, that maybe it was what she wanted, but this was absolutely not how she wanted it.
Ash wants it to be the three of them, like it always has been. She wants those days back when three was an even number and no one was the odd man out, because this? She doesn't see how this is going to work. Three Musketeers turned into triangle and triangle turned into tripod. This feels like someone kicking at her leg; if she goes down this whole thing is going to collapse.
Ash needs them both to keep standing.
“I'm sorry,” is all she can say. “I never wanted it to be like this.”
Zac must hear the anguish she's trying to keep out of her voice, because he has to tear his gaze away. If anyone could understand how impossible this is to turn away from, it's Zac. He knows what it's like to want Van in your life. To need her there.
“I need her, too,” Zac says. Ash hadn't realized she'd been speaking aloud. Zac looks back up at her then, fear like a shadow across his face. The way his shoulders slump make something inside Ash ache; it's like he's afraid he'll never the sun again. “You wouldn't take her away from me, would you?”
Ash's grip is so tight her hands are getting sore. She's shaking her head before she can even think to say no. Suddenly, she hates that this fence is here, that Zac parked on the other side of it. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to extend a hand and rest it on Zac's chest so she could feel his heart beating. There's no way she would ever do something to break it.
It hurts her, now, that she can't reach him.
“I love you,” she says. It's true. He's her best friend and half the light in her life. She loves him, but. But. It's awful and horrible and wonderful, but she loves Van, too.
Eventually, Ash lets Zac take her home. When they walk in the door, there's Van, sitting cross-legged on their threadbare couch. She smiles at them both, says I'm so glad you're home.
part one . part two . part three . primer