you've tainted every moment til death do we part
Title: The Long Goodbye, Part Two.
Pairing: Jiyong/Seungri
Rating: PG
Summary: Instead of pulling punches, they pulled out their guns.
Note: You guys! *drumroll* Right on time, around a year later, I present to you: More Ramblings By Me, aka The Long Goodbye, Part Two! Yeah, I know, I suck. Here's the link to the first part for those of you that have completely forgotten what happened there.
To be honest I was going to spend a few more months staring at the word document, but a friend said JUST POST IT ALREADY ASDJHKFJS and I decided it's as good as it's gonna get. Plus I'm drowning in WIPs at the moment.
This chapter is a series of confessions. I hope it will be easy to tell who's confessing what.
The Long Goodbye
Part Two
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
A week has passed since my last confession. And I don’t have much to say. Nothing I haven’t said before.
No. That’s a lie. Forgive me, I shouldn’t be lying. I do have something to share with you.
Father, you know my husband is a powerful man. This whole town fears him- it makes some things easier, some harder, but that’s the way it is. You fear him, that’s the sole reason I am here. If you value your life, you will be careful with your greed and will not let it overcome your fear.
Oh don’t look like that, Father. What I am saying is, I trust you. For reasons out of your control I feel safe here. Take it as a compliment.
My husband is kind to me. He has never laid a hand on me, has never come home drunk. I’ve been around, I’ve seen what other men do. A veil does little to conceal a black eye, if you know where to look, and women know where to look.
But he is kind. To me. The rest does not concern me. He does not talk much, and he does not smile much- though they tell me he used to, once upon a time. Hard to imagine, isn’t it.
I do not mind his silence, I do not love it either. The house is large. Sometimes the sound of my footsteps can be seem so loud.
I’m sorry, Father. I got sidetracked. It’s not often I get to talk freely. One can’t be too careful.
-oh, yes, I did come here with something specific in mind. Let’s take it from the start.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
The boy came to my house today. I let him in.
*
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
It’s been two days since I last came here, you must be sick of me.
Father- I
I.
I’m having an affair with a married woman.
She used to be my piano teacher when I was a kid. She told me, I didn’t remember. Four years older than me, she taught me how to play and I can’t even remember her face back then. It’s like I didn’t even notice her. It’s strange, it’s unnatural, she is so beautiful. What was I thinking.
I guess I had other things on my mind. I used to play football- do you remember? I had those friends…
Ah.
Anyway.
This woman, I met her a few days before her wedding, on the street. And she killed me Father, she killed me. I fell in love on the spot, on the street, and it was like getting shot in the gut, like forgetting your name. I am hopeless against it. I’ve never felt such desperation.
Yes, I do think she loves me too. She stays up late in the night playing the saddest tunes. She holds on to me like she never wants to let go. She has made promises-
Yes. Yes indeed. I know. She is married. I know this is sin, this is sin and it’s dangerous and reckless and so unlike me, Father, believe me, I-
Forgive me. Give me just one moment.
Thank you. I’m sorry for. For that.
Here’s a fun fact- I was invited to her wedding. I did not go, though I did not know at the time it was her he was marrying. I would have gone, I almost did, I thought at first that invite was an act of reconciliation, a gold-lettered apology five years too late. I guess I was too much of a dreamer. Mending things in my head, I suppose.
Doesn’t matter, ‘cos in the end I chickened out. And it was the best for everyone, as it turns out. I don’t know what I would have done, if I had seen, and the invite was a taunt, a silly taunt, of course it was. I burnt the letter.
I’m not making sense, am I? It’s just that.
She married a man I used to know.
*
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
Well, look at me, I’m just saying that, aren’t I? I don’t really think I’ve sinned, Father.
What do I think? I think I’ve just made choices. The wrong ones, granted, but choices nonetheless and you know what, they brought me here. With a gun in my pocket instead of a mic in my hand. I could have been in Vegas right now, singing the blues in the lowlight. I have a nice voice, Father, remember you used to say that? Back when I was in your choir, back when I wore white, back when I didn’t have to sneak in through the back door, deep in the afternoon, when the shadows are so long and black?
I would have been a performer, god knows little Ri wanted me to be one (do you remember little Ri, Father) but my parents wouldn’t let me. I don’t blame them, I’m fine where I am and I still hum a few bars over breakfast or in the bathtub. But I’m just saying. Some choices I made, some were made for me, you know?
I’m not entirely at fault for the blood on my hands.
I could have been a good man.
No, Father, I’m not making excuses. I’m just saying there’s no point in making excuses. No, it’s not the same. You wouldn’t understand.
So.
How was your week, Father?
Oh, we don’t get to talk about you?
Let me tell you ‘bout my week then, since it’s past teatime and I have nowhere to be for a few hours. Work starts after dark.
Little Ri’s giving us a run for our money. Not just my side of the fence either, he’s setting fires left and right. I knew they shouldn’t have given a badge to this kid, he’ll ruin the streets. Wipe ‘em nice and clean, kill himself in the process.
What should he do? What do I think? I think he should stay out of this. It’s nobody’s business but ours, and that’s the way it’s always been. The gangs spill the blood, the sheriff comes after to identify the bodies, you follow to read a eulogy.
He’s got no business stirring things up. The system is working. The other sheriff, he knew what to do, just chew your tobacco, read your paper in the morning and roll with it. Keep a blind eye and no-one gets hurt. Except the ones that do, but a war’s a war and a war comes with a bodycount.
But my boy’s ambitious. My boy’s got a grudge, an sore bone.
Has he told you- that we used to be friends?
Ah, right. You already knew. I forget sometimes. He barely made it in the choir, didn’t he.
Well yeah, we used to be friends once. Seems like a lifetime ago. We gave him a hard time, all of us did. Dumped him in the river and rubbed his face in the mud and stole his food. I didn’t mean any harm, I had a huge fucking soft spot for him, still do, I think.
He wants my head and my hands even don’t itch for the gun when I see him on the street.
I remember sometimes, how he used to look at us, like we were wearing the sun on our heads. I remember the way we used to laugh, loud and like nobody’s business. We weren’t always all enemies. Our fingers were the guns and they did no harm. It was all pretend.
What?
Why am I smiling?
I really don’t know.
*
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
It feels sometimes, like I’ve been sinning for years. I don’t remember what the last right thing I did was.
Do you know me, Father? Yes?
Do you fear me?
Good.
But just so you know, I’m perfectly harmless, in my natural habitat. Leave me to my own devices and I will do nothing but kick balls around and play with paper planes. I will build tree houses and laugh at matchstick men- I am still a boy at heart, Father. I’d rather play with toy guns than with this chunk of metal.
You don’t believe me?
It’s alright, nobody does. It doesn’t surprise me. I think it’s the eyes.
You’re shaking. Heavens, I will not shoot you in your own confessional, Father, that would be in bad taste. Tasteless. I don’t do tasteless. I like subtle business. I like refined, quiet things. And don’t be afraid, I appreciate your honesty. People don’t speak the truth to me often. Fear does that.
What about my family? I do, I have a wife, what about her.
Does she speaks the truth? I don’t know, do I, how can I know? My wife doesn’t talk much. She spends too much time by the window, or on the piano playing those little lonesome tunes. Sometimes I think about sitting next to her and singing along, but I’ve grown to hate lovesongs and my voice is not that great. It’s deep and scratchy. It would scare her.
It’s good for barking orders, though.
Ask me something, Father. Something else. I don’t like talking by myself and I think I like your aura.
I see. No, I wasn’t born a leader. I didn’t choose this, sir, it was handed to me. Jiyong said he wouldn’t do it, said he didn’t know how to lead anymore- it was during his dark days but I think it still applies. He looks so lost sometimes.
So. I stepped up, I took over and I thought it was temporary, but here we are.
I was only seventeen. I am far from seventeen now.
Do you know Jiyong, Father? The Dragon, you must have heard of him.
Yes, it’s a strange to call a man, but I guess he is one. The Dragon..
He is my friend. My second-in-command. He is my leader. A paradox, yes. And no. An old habit more like, an old wound, perhaps. It’s instinctual. I could never let him off the pedestal, though god knows he tried to jump enough times.
He is small and scrawny and doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Or all that important. Less of a dragon, more of a lizard.
And we almost lost him today. My dear man, you wouldn’t imagine, no-one could, what a historic day today is. History will only show.
There was a tiny explosion in town today, around midnight, but we have yet to see the aftermath.
The Sheriff and the Dragon crossed paths.
Nearly killed eachother, again.
Five years gone by, and instead of pulling punches like last time, they pulled out their guns.
*
Forgive me.
I don’t know- I am not sure how this works, because I didn’t sin today, Father.
Thou shall not kill, isn’t it what the book says?
Today I did not kill.
I don’t know why I couldn’t pull the trigger. I don’t know why. Been shooting things ever since I was a little boy, he was just another target. An easy one. He was smiling on the dirt and he had opened a hole at my side. One of my bullets in his thigh and he couldn’t even run away.
Who? You wouldn’t know him, Father. He’s not your kind of man. And even if you did, you’d just get fooled. He smiles so bright. He still smiles, I shot him and all he did was smile, so fucking careless, devil-may-care, like he was dizzy, like we were kids again, god, oh god, oh god…
I guess, ah. Well I guess I’ve sinned. Against this town and its children, against our people that want to walk the streets unafraid and free, against the dead and my own ideal, I guess I have sinned.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
*
Hello, Father.
I’ll skip the introduction. I needed to be somewhere quiet. Lay low for a while. I hope you don’t mind. I hope you’ll stay a while.
I’m limping ‘cos I got shot last night.
It doesn’t hurt too much. I’ve had worse.
It’s just strange, when memories take shots at you. Makes it all so goddamn real, so goddamn-
Oh, right. I’m sorry. Fuck. Pardon my mouth.
Father. We’ve got a couple of hours to waste and I might as well confess something, what do you say. Do you want to hear a real sin, Father?
Yes? Alright.
Well.
Fifteen years ago, I fell in love with a boy.
A/N: I love Stanley Tucci.
The above has nothing to do with the story.
I just love Stanley Tucci.