. hopeless wanderer

[Deleted]

Cormac shrugging off his injury and turning it into a humorous tale of boys being boys, only makes her look more shocked. Her face is full of horror, her eyes so wide that the tips of her lashes touch her eye socket, and she sinks deep into her turtleneck. She shakes her head as if to say, not funny, and peaks back out of the wool fabric to take a sip of her drink. “I saw Ty over Christmas, he looks fifty,” she says, as if it made the situation any better. She did see the bulging football player in a Walgreens, he was holding a pot of Vaseline and it looked as though his muscle had softened into a beer gut. His face had looked red and leathery, as if he'd been to Cabo and picked up a third degree burn. She felt pity of her, but also a small amount of satisfaction because the karma was evident. She sips away her last bit of coke and Kraken just as Cormac does. The coke stings her soft lips and as she fixes a bit of hair she looks at the bartender and gestures for another. The tip of her nose feels numb, a sure sign that the booze is settling in, but her body is continuing to be inconsistently rigid. As Cormac swats her head, she withers away from his touch and her head bounces backwards ever so slightly. “Maybe you're right,” no, he's definitely correct. She just has a different way of looking at things, sometimes it feels as though there's too many eyes to judge her every move. But perhaps it's just her getting gun-shy commitment. There was the high school relationship and friendships that were purged, her entire college career flushed, and even now her inability to commit to an apartment contract, or to say that she had officially moved to New York. In her head she was here, but on the tip of her tongue was that New York was only a trip away from her home across the ocean. He feigns hurt, which is so very old Cormac. To take a situation and make it less serious than it is. His familiar sarcastic nature is comforting. The bartender stands above them and sets their freshened drinks on the table. “God does exist,” she thanks him graciously and beams up for a moment. “I really mean it,” she readdresses Cormac and gives her drink a good swig. “It's like if I went out and dated... Teddy,” she thinks of a friend he had introduced her to, a true friend of his. “Not even dated Teddy, married Teddy.. then Teddy asks if you want to be his best man, that's so disrespectful of him. And it'd be disrespectful of me to marry your friend,” she snaps her finger and points it at him, her body sinking into a comfortable drunkenness, “you disrespected me and that's why I don't like you at all.” ................................................... music: la la land. notes: omg i did three paragraphc.

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... In much the same way children sometimes don't seem to register that they've hurt themselves until they're being fawned over, when they'll promptly start to bawl, it took the shocked look on Ana's face for him to realize that it was not such a small deal after all. Of course he knew this, having spent days in hospital and receiving so many stitches he lost count, but over the years the trauma had died down to the faintest of memories. In fact, if it weren't for the physical representation of the incident that was literally etched across his face, he would almost certainly have forgotten about the incident entirely. As it stood he took a perverse sort of pleasure out of her reaction, secretly thrilled that she seemed to care. He laughs darkly at her comment, a grin lingering on his face. "You're a doll, I'm sure he's still got those Abercrombie good looks. Good luck to him, god knows he didn't get any brains." He paused, lost in thought. "Do you ever think intelligence is a curse? Even on his worst days, Tyler can watch  rerun of an old high school football match and I bet he's not even a little sad about it, I bet it brings him a real sense of joy. Not to be patronising, but I think Mill got it wrong when he said it was better to be a dissatisfied man than a satisfied pig." Itching for another drink but not wanting to pull away from her, he's so grateful when she gestures for another round that he's tempted to kiss her. Well, more than normal, that is. He studies her face, trying to work out whether she really agreed with him or not. Her flightiness had surprised him, but what surprised him more than her leaving was how long she'd sustained it for. She had run away, of course, and that was understandable, maybe even healthy. But six years? It felt like an awfully long time to tap out of reality, and form the way she was speaking now it seemed as though that was exactly what she was doing. It had always been a substantial difference between the two of them, even in high school. Where Cormac was resolute in his interests, refusing to see any dilemma as anything but a challenge he would self confidently overcome, Ana had been plagued by indecisiveness, her nature altogether more curious and all the less resolute for it. Where Cormac saw things in black and white, she saw glorious technicolour. Where she was paralysed by choice, Cormac could easily see the way through, logically selecting a path and having no trouble at all in following it. It was a difference that had led to some of their most vicious disagreements, but it was also one that more often allowed them to balance each other out beautifully. Almost before the bartender has put it down Cormac has scooped his drink up, taking a larger gulp than was probably wise. Truthfully it was the caffeine he was after, a slight shake threatening to settle into his fingers if he didn't get a fix. His eyes narrow at the comparison with Teddy. "I mean, if you really think about it it's worse, because you were the victim and I was the aggressor. So sure, I'd be mad about you shacking up with the Tedster, but I'd probably have to work real hard on pretending I was happy for you two." This too was classic Cormac, his logic winning out even when it was at his own expense. She repeats her dislike and this time it really bothers him, his brow furrowing as he looks at her over the rim of his glass. Studying her again. Eventually he puts the drink down, holding both hands up. "Ok, you're right. The wedding's off. One second," he stretches out, retrieving a cracked iPhone from his pocket and unlocking it. "Hang on, I'll text her the news." ................................................... music: silence. notes: i got a bit excited and replied too fast, sry.

[Deleted]

Blinking at Cormac, she was so scared for a story that had already past. His dark scars looked so soft as they raised against his skin and she's brought back to the last last last time she saw him. As he stood with his feet braced shoulder width apart, his great shoulders barrelled wide and high, her hands found themselves magnetized to his face. That same face that was now patched with cuts, was so soft and full where she rested her palms. She recalled tapping her index finger to the rhythm of Elliot Smith's Angeles as it played in the background, so glad to meet you, Angeles right into his plush cheek. Their young lips so feverish that they'd forgot they just had a mini-fit over what movie they'd be seeing. Teenage love affairs are so forgiving to a point. In Thailand she slept with a friend for years. Something to fill the bridge of loneliness and to keep each others bed's warm. There was love in companionship and love in respect, but there was no love in the romantic sense. A purely no-feelings and no-strings type of relationship, and nothing more came from it. That sense of familiarity and thrill, is all a very Australian boy gave to her. Danny cooked the fluffiest pancakes, gave the best head and left with no hassle. If they made promises to see each other and those promises were broken, neither of them were upset. It was easy and carefree, the perfect distraction from the reality her brain was so desperate to rid of. Danny met a perfect five foot tall tourist last summer and when she left, so did he. Everything has a way of moving. Like the previously discussed theory of fate, this was probably fate giving her a little push. Jon Jr. half dead in the bathroom of a Burger King, that was a bigger push. “Stop,” she tells him the first time, watching as he gets all the more hyper. She sips away at the drink, the heat of the moment is making her drink more than she intends. And when she examines the caramel alcohol, the glass is almost empty again. “Just,” she leans forward to pluck the phone from his fingers, “stop it, I'll leave.” Brown eyes look to examine his home screen, then ashamed she presses the lock button and sets the phone face down beside her. “No, I am leaving,” she slides the phone back across to him and dramatically downs the last of her drink. “You are a very unlikable person,” she proclaims, standing and fishing a few bills from her wallet to seton the table, “you're disloyal, incapable of holding a genuine conversation, and you have a shitty sense of humour.” Between each accusation she takes a pause to think up the next insult. “You,” she bats his curly head softly with the back of her hand as she passes, “suck.” ................................................... music: elliot smith, obviously notes: i'm going to compliment myself. this didn't suck that much. [/modest]

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... The first year was the hardest. Perhaps because he himself did not revel in the aftermath of his betrayal, after the first few gleeful days of schadenfreude the reception to his little "prank" cooled considerably, with even callous teenagers starting to see that perhaps it had been a cruel thing for Cormac and his buddies to have done. By the time this occurred to the rest of the student body it was a truth that had been fully absorbed by its main perpetrator, who wanted nothing but to make it up to his victim in any way he could. Alas, she was nowhere to be found. Instead, Cormac had retreated from public life himself, living in a self-imposed (well, semi self-imposed, since his parents had also grounded him for life) exile. He ignored his former friends when they tried to flag him over in the cafeteria, he went straight from there to the library and from there to class, where he'd then leave to go straight home, skipping football practice until they eventually kicked him off the team. Naturally there was a conflict with the girls in school, who couldn't quite decide if they empathetically hated him as a show of solidarity, or if they childishly were pleased to have the effortlessly beautiful Ana Novak shown up. Either way he didn't care, he had no interest in anyone but his former girlfriend. Somehow it didn't get any easier as time went on. The fullness of his crime - and it was a crime, one he should have been prosecuted for - took time to set in, as did the full weight of his conscience. Looking at her now, she looked so like her young self, only her cheekbones seemed yet more defined, her lips even poutier. All at once that same old wound opened up again, more vehemently than it had in years. How could he? He looked away again, feeling faintly sick. He tries to focus on the conversation. Before he can do anything the phone is plucked from his fingers, and he raises his eyebrows at her in response. What did she want from him? He's getting whiplash from this conversation, thrown by how she seems willing to have a friendly catch up only to pepper it with asides and now, of course, as she had done multiple times over their IM conversation, to declare she was leaving. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Ana," he starts but it's too late, she's on her feet, her hand brushing against his head. It's an effort not to roll his eyes again. He pulls out a fifty and swoops up her crumpled notes, collecting them and straightening them out as he stands to follow her. "Take this then," he says, catching up with her outside of the bar, grabbing her arm to turn her around. "I wouldn't want you to have to pay for my shitty company. For what it's worth, I wasn't joking at all." He looks her straight in the eye, no trace of mischievous intent on his face. Instead, he talks with a serious, even tone, usually reserved for those study groups. "I would call it off with Ellie if it really upset you that much. That's not me being a martyr, it's an honest reflection of my priorities. I'd do anything if I thought it would even begin to make things up to you." He's stood extremely close to her, his breath, laced with rum and Coke, blowing out as billowy white clouds in the cold. Even now he can't help but worry that she's cold, his instinct screaming at him to shoulder off his coat and put it round her shoulders no matter how much she protests. But he doesn't. After all, she's not his girlfriend, and they aren't two teenagers hopelessly besotted with each other. She's just a girl whose nudes he taped round his school one day, who he was now offering to leave his longterm fiancee for.... no big deal at all. ................................................... music: back to the revenant OST. notes: yaaas girl!

[Deleted]

She's childish in her reaction and she knows it. The way she jerks away, and huffs out of the vicinity, is much like how a toddler would react to being told no. She's half expected to throw herself on the sidewalk and wail it out. The conversation had gotten difficult, her chest felt heavy and she was too weak to handle the stress of it. She questions why she even said yes to this in the first place or why she suggested something other than coffee. It would have been easy to lie and said she had other stuff going on, but she had decided to poke the bear. Ana feels threatened and vulnerable, two feelings that she hasn't felt in a while. Even as she held her brother's cut up hand and told him, here's our game plan, she didn't feel this unable. As the door is pulled open and she's greeted with a cold New York winter air, she finds that she is once again unsure. Does she continue her mission of running away? Her apartment is just a straight hop across the busy road. She distracts herself with the passing cars; the blues, blacks, reds and whites, all staring at her questionably as they zip by. She's jerked around to face Cormac, her feet become a little dizzy and she wobbles slightly. “Not my sugar daddy,” she rolls her eyes and folds the bills into his coat pocket. She'd be better off on her beach, she thinks. Wrapped up in sun with her toes in the sand, and the days would be longer than the nights. It's not a particularly cold night in New York, but it's cold enough her cheeks to flush and her warm breathe to turn to foggy white clouds. Ana pulls the fabric of her sweater around her slim fingers, and leans evenly on both hips. There's little space between them and the height difference forces her to look up at him. His breathe is hot and smells slightly boozy, his words literally hit her with a cloudy wall. ”I'm not upset by it,” she lies, her head shaking viciously and looking back down. “It's already been done, you might as well finish it up, there's no point in letting me bring down your happiness. That's just stupid, don't you think? I don't want you to be unhappy,” she's trying to lighten up, but her body is still as rigid as a board. As people drift on the sidewalk, she shifts her body away from his. “What you did was mean and it hurt when I learned about it, but we're not exactly constants in each others' lives. I haven't seen you in over six years and it kills a bit that you'd choose her, but I'll be happy for you.” ................................................... music: nina simone. notes: back to total SHIT

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... Alcohol has taken the edge off his surroundings, blurring the edges and keeping the chill at bay. It was a precarious position to be in, really-- if Ellie were to so much as lean forward a little from their living room window, she would have a clear view of her fiance hunched over his beautiful ex girlfriend, closer than any platonic relation would ever require. Just across the road lived a couple he and Ellie had become close to, Dana and Greg... well, Ellie had become close to Dana, and in a begrudging way the two men had been forced into a sort of pseudo friendship. Greg was very much built in the Tyler and Charlie mould, strapping and blue eyed and not at all pleased to have found himself living in Brooklyn, which he felt was overrun with art school undesirables. With a downtown job and a well used Equinox membership, he had very little in common with Cormac, who usually made reluctant smalltalk about the Red Sox and, very occasionally, the weather. Still, Dana was worse. A loudmouthed woman from Philadelphia, she and Ellie were in barely concealed competition with each other, and any interaction they had was just an unrelenting series of one-upmanship. If she were to see Cormac here, so close to another woman, she would probably pee herself in sheer delight. But he didn't care. Initially a quiet voice at the back of his head, his apathy toward his upcoming nuptials had been getting louder and louder until now, when it was roaring in his ears, deafening him. Even arguing with Ana in the middle of the street seemed preferable to what a life with Ellie promised, an existence strung together by dinner parties and Netflix boxsets and brief, weekly sex sessions, always missionary, never spontaneous. His eyes met her and he was sure they were pleading, begging her to talk him out of the hellish life he'd sold himself into. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as she slid the notes into his coat pocket, ever defiant. It was in such strong contrast to Ellie, who he had to hide his true income from so as she wouldn't spend it all, that he was seized by the desire to lean down and kiss her. Before he can she's talking, words spilling from her lips unconvincingly but still finding their target. It hurt. "It hasn't already been done," he said, surprised to hear a note of desperation in his voice. He hated this, wanted desperately for her to tell him to throw it all away, that it was no big deal and easily reversed. "Don't be a martyr," he said quietly, though he felt a faint sense of dread that maybe she wasn't, maybe she really just didn't harbour any residual feelings for him at all. He wouldn't really be able to blame her for that, after all-- but that didn't make it any less painful to consider. The word 'choose' slips out and he can't help but laugh, shaking his head. He looks her dead in the eyes again, searching for some sign of seriousness. "Chose her? You can't mean that. No one chose her!" He's laughing again, more white clouds billowing from his lungs. "You chose not to be a constant in my life, and I completely understand why. If it had been my choice I'd have chosen you, I'd have chosen you every single day until you finally chose me back. But you up and left. For what it's worth," he fights the lump in his throat, avoids her eye. "I'd still choose you. In a heartbeat." ................................................... music: spirited away OST. notes: I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE & TERRIBLE.

[Deleted]

It was early March when it had happened. She remembers the day exactly because it's the only tragedy she's ever known. Ana's never had a family member die of an illness and she's never felt true sadness in any other way, so she recalls the fog quite vividly. The moist air, so dense in the city of Washington, was hard to navigate through as it settled so deep on the road. She recalls looking at Shannon Ireland and noticing her wince her direction, then snicker as she turned to her friends. She didn't know why, it came out of nowhere. Then as she walked through a hallway full of lockers, she noticed. The photo was so innocent and so horribly amateur, it could have been a lot worse. She was winking and biting her tongue in it, bare except for a lacy thong she'd picked up from Victoria's Secret the same day she took the picture. She left. She left quickly and pale faced, not crying until she got into her car. She bawls, she hyperventilates, she sobs so messily and uncontrollably she doesn't take notice of the people looking into her car. She calls Jonathan and cries for him to pick her up because her hands are shaking too badly to hold her wheel. Everything aches in an unforgivable way and she's never felt a similar way since. When she listens to Cormac confess that he'd still choose her, she can't help but think of how selfish it is to say all of that. She wonders if he knows, or if he was one of those people who glanced into her car window, which was so steamy with tears. Did he ever figure or did Jonathan ever tell him that she wept so hard that she threw up? As she hears him say, I'd still choose you, she feels her heart ache with that same March trauma and she contemplates whether she is brave enough to tell him to fuck right off and to stop being so cruel and candid with his words, because he's lost the right to be. But she's too empathetic of a person. And like she promised in a lengthy email sent to him that same March, there's still a piece of her that will always love him. Love the way him talks and does before he actually thinks, his lack of patience and his passive boldness. Her heart races and she feels fear, her big doe eyes becoming anxious and a frown has left her temple creased. ”I'm sorry,” she lifts a clammy hand to his cheek and strokes the outline of a scar with her thumb, ”I'm just really sorry there's too much damage.” She sighs deeply, trying to get rid of that tension in her chest. ”I'd have chosen you too and even now, part of me still wants to take you home,” her hand settles on his warm neck, her fingers loosely embrace the curve to his shoulder, ”you still chose her though and you still really broke my heart. I know you're not asking for me, and it's been ages, but I still.. the hurt is all I can think about.” ................................................... music: hanni el notes: can't write

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... If it was cold, Cormac could no longer feel it. His blood pounded in his ears, his heart beating rapidly, hard against his ribcage, the roar of Manhattan traffic sounding faint and distant now, despite it being right beside him. What was he saying? Mere moments ago he had been scouring shelves for sugar-free lemonade, and now here he was, saying heavy words as if they were nothing. It came so easily with her. Typically Cormac was and always had been much more of a listener than a talker, preferring to observe and reserve judgment as much as possible. But Ana had always turned him talkative, not just when it was one on one, but in front of others - his mother had frequently commented on what a chatterbox she made him, with the warm bemusement of a parent seeing their child in the flushes of his first love. He had asked Ellie to marry him almost monotonously, after a barrage of hinting had worn him down. Yet here he was confessing things to Ana in such a carefree manner you'd think he was telling her the time, or commenting on the weather. His mind finally catching up with his mouth, he could scarcely believe what he'd said. He yearns to touch her. At that moment it didn't matter how, whether it was to tuck her hair behind her ear, to wrap her up warm in his coat, or even to kiss her, he just wanted desperately to break the touch barrier that suddenly seemed so iron clad between them. The distance between them seems to widen with every incendiary word that falls from his lips, and he knows what's happening, knows that she's retreating from the heat of his affection. It was written all over her face. He knows she's reliving that fateful day and desperately wants her to stop but can't, doesn't want to acknowledge it lest he cement it further in her mind but knows that it hangs between them, an iron curtain he'll never be able to overcome. Instantly the childish hope he had held on to all these years flickered out, a candle in a cool breeze. The damage was irreversible, no matter what he said. Looking away from her, he tries to stiffen up. He's bracing himself for the rejection he knows is coming, subconsciously leaning away from her as she reaches up to touch him. Her rejection is soft and sweet, but he knows what lurks behind it. It was essentially a firm fuck you. It frustrates him and he wants to scream at her to get over it, to leave it in the distant past, to tell her that if she wasn't such a privileged, sheltered little princess she'd have found a thousand other things to angst over and left that particular option as a spuriously childish one. But he has no right to be angry, and truthfully, Ellie doesn't deserve what he's just unwittingly put her through. Bitterly, he shakes her hand away. "Don't do that. Don't try to make this about me making a choice," he said, looking back at her. He's choosing his words more carefully now, that old passion doused by disappointment. When he speaks it's without the usual warmth, hard, controlled. "You're scared of being vulnerable and honestly, I think you'd be just as scared even if I'd never made that stupid mistake. You wouldn't have chosen me, you don't know how to choose anyone, and frankly I'm sick of taking the blame for your emotional immaturity." ................................................... music: jayne eyre OST. notes: i wrote this too quickly and gave you nothing, i'd forgive you if you never replied. also, asshole cormac, omg

[Deleted]

”Oh, really?” Ana tilts her eyes and crooks her head to the side. She gives him the same expression that she would a bold toddler who just intentionally spilled his juice on the floor. It wasn't his words that cut her or even the bitter look that seemed to fill his expression all at once. In fact, she was so far escaping this situation free from any wounds. Her ground was held and her spine seemed to straighten out to compete with his height. His words and chill were reassuring, as if he just pulled off a mask to reveal his true self. His accusation on her made her smirk slightly, her honey rose lips pulling up on one tip just as her head leaned the other way. Prior regret of not seeing him for six years became a new regret of not seeing him for six more years. Ana finds herself nodding along with him and even letting a laugh come from the depth of her chest. ”It's funny how people grow, or don't,” her teeth catch her bottom lip as she looks at him. ”I used to think we were so beautiful together, that we balanced each other out into this unique kind of love. That people would write about us, or we would write about us, and it'd be such a romantic story. Not even in the 'Ana met Mack and fell in love' way, but in the way only the heart could write. I thought that we would discover until there wasn't anything left to discover together, that we wouldn't settle for this traditional track of life but just keep growing and finding new things to love about each other,” she raises her shoulder to shrug, ”you can still be such an asshole, I think that's the one thing I learned about you that I didn't like. And maybe you hate that I'm not vulnerable, but I always softened into it. It just took a bit of time and convincing from both ends. Being an assuming jackass, or a mean wannabe fuck-boy, those aren't traits that make anyone choose you. Five minutes ago I thought you'd changed, but now I can see that you haven't.” There's a silence in her words that is both deafening and defining. She presses her lips together, that soft smirk disappearing ages ago as her heart gets heavier and the bravery subsides. ”I think I'm going to have a glass of wine and go to bed. Thank you for the company.” ................................................... music: still hanni. notes: short. sorry

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... The smirk on her face irks him, creeping under his skin to itch at his last nerve. Like his talkativeness and his emotional openness, his short fuse was a personality trait that was reserved for her. Sure, he fought with Ellie all the time, but it was a one sided affair, with his fiancee mostly losing her temper over his placidity. He was not a confrontational person, too quiet, too prone to thinking before he speaks, to really let his temper get the better of him. As with so many others, this was a character trait corrupted by Ana Novak, who made him into a person he didn't recognise and, at times like this, did not even like. Deeply inhaling, he tried to exhale the tension out of his shoulders, recomposing his face and trying to clear his mind of any negativity. Detach. Observe. He couldn't look at her, couldn't let the smugness of her expression rile him up again, but it was hard not to. She launches into a soliloquy and it's all he can do not to walk away. Not looking at her, he turns his eyes to the sky, nodding along though he's not particularly listening. It's a speech he could have scripted. She's still talking about how they used to be and the 'but now' is hanging heavy between them, every sentence she utters that isn't that one irritating for prolonging the inevitable. Finally he rolls his hand, gesturing for her to get to the point, and finally she does, and finally he looks at her again. "Are you finished?" he asks, a forced neutrality to his tone. He pauses, giving her a chance to get it all out there. When she finally seems done, he makes sure his face is as neutral as possible, his tone remaining the same, though it's hard not to note an edge of condescension. Ever the Psychologist. "You've obviously watched a few too many rom coms." It's a release, this reminder that she's not some perfect angel crafted by God's own two hands. She's really very predictable, and though he said it in malice earlier, he finds this whole exchange extremely immature. The sensible part of him knows he should be letting it go, shrugging this off and parting ways, returning home to make things up to Ellie. But there were a few accusations in there that he felt patently untrue, and he resolved to address them as politely as possible. "There's no part of me that wants to be a fuck boy. I tried that and, as I've said a number of times, it turned out to be the worst mistake of my life." He looked at her, steadying his gaze. "But what you just said is a lot of bullshit and either you know that, or you've actually convinced yourself of it, which is something I think you need to review. Ours wasn't some great love story, with me eking vulnerability out of you, the tragic heroine. We were kids. We were into each other, but we were kids. I may be an assuming jackass, but I'm making an educated guess here - you don't know what it's like to really be in love, because if you did, you're recognize that's not what we had." He cleared his throat. "I'm not trying to be a dick here, I just think if you got your head out of your ass for two seconds you'd see you're not the huge victim you think you are, and you'd realize that wallowing in that unreality does you a disservice." ................................................... music: spirited away OST. notes: cormac the asshole ctd.

[Deleted]

The conversation is beginning to feel heavier than previously. Two minutes ago she was feeling brave and poetic, traits that she amped up in herself as she listened to his initial rage. Panic is beginning to seek in as she watches him react, first with a folded crease in his brow and then powerful words. The conversation is familiar. Perhaps not the content, as when they were younger there was no doubting the love they felt for each other. An aggressive tone has engulfed their space on the street. The few people that pass, glance at them with curiosity and judgment. As she avoids Cormac's gaze, she locks eyes with a woman and blinks apologetically. The argument takes over like a poison, similar to a previous blow-out over fries and a shake and many more prior to that. There's fight and back in her head she doubts resolution to come after it. Ana's fingers rack through her chocolate mane and she looks back at him. The panic has turned into a sickness that wedges itself in her throat and stomach. She waits for him to stop talking and to say goodbye back, but it never comes. She watches his mouth move and hears the sharpness of his tongue. I'm not trying to be a dick here, she raises an eyebrow questionably and looks away. The sickness then turns to a quick rage as she lifts a hand to aggressively swipe the softness of his cheek. Her fingers turn white and tingle, she touches her temple and shakes her head at him. ”What are you achieving by arguing here? What the fuck, Cormac?” she raises her hands up at him, her face fights an expression of apology and irritation. ”Do you want me to say you're right? You're right... oh wow, that feels so much better,” she breathes deeply and turns away from him. ”You're a piece of shit, Cormac,” she raises her middle finger up at him, her eyes looking for moment to cross the road. ................................................... music: nada. notes: this is awful! i'm forever sorry.

[Deleted]

"AND NO, IT WASN'T SHAME I NOW FELT, OR GUILT, BUT SOMETHING RARER IN MY LIFE AND STRONGER THAN BOTH: REMORSE. A FEELING WHICH IS MORE COMPLICATED, CURDLED, AND PRIMEVAL. WHOSE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC IS THAT NOTHING CAN BE DONE ABUT IT: TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED, TOO MUCH DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE, FOR AMENDS TO BE MADE." ................................................... Just like that, he knew he had pushed it too far the other way. What was it he had wanted to achieve? Startled by the sight of her, magnificent in the flesh, pure and familiar and fresh as a blast of cold air, he had thrown himself into the moment without stopping to absorb it. She had surprised him with her willingness to go on for a drink somewhere else and he had been giddy with it, too giddy to avoid drinking quickly and drinking too quickly to avoid being too giddy. He should have been more guarded. Cormac had a relatively strong hold on his emotions as a general rule, seeking to get along with people, generally listening more than he talked. Today was a good example of why he preferred to keep his mouth shut. Poison is spilling from his lips so fluently he can't stop himself, one spiteful comment following another until there's a sharp thwack, the abrupt contact of Ana's hand to his cheek plummeting him into instant silence. For a moment he's totally numb, shocked, his cheek white... then the blood comes flooding back, turning his cheek crimson and bringing with it a sharp stinging pain. He's tempted to laugh. Not because it's funny but because he understands, knows full well that he had that coming. With one hand instinctively rubbing at the effected cheek, he smiles a little sheepishly at the passersby, some of whom audibly gasped at the spectacle. Finally she speaks, and he can hear the conflict in her voice. "I guess I had that coming," he admits. Characteristic silence befalls him, not because he has nothing to say, but because he's not sure what it is she would like to hear. Not wanting to hedge his bets, he kept quiet, at least until she gave him the finger. Then he really couldn't help but laugh. He's calming down now, the hurt in his cheek dying down too. Falling back into his breathing techniques, he focuses hard on the inhale, and then the exhale, giving his physiology a second to catch up with his psychology. Once he felt suitably calmed, he took her arm again, gently trying to pull her back from the road. "I'm sorry. I could have said that better, some of it not at all... I'm tired, I'm tipsy, seeing you is a headfuck for me and I'm not thinking straight. Please. I promise I'll think before I speak now, just don't go. Not like this." He heaves a heavy sigh, avoiding her eye again. "Of course I was in love with you. I wouldn't be stood here offering to leave my fiancee for you if I wasn't, if..." if some part of me wasn't still, he wants to say, but is too much a coward. "I'm sorry that you think that's fuckboy-ish of me. I'll admit Ellie wouldn't like to hear it, and no matter what happens now I'm gonna have to have a serious conversation with her... I strive for honesty, but sometimes I should probably lie. I'm sorry." ................................................... music: mahler. notes: i blame the fact i'm not listening to soundtracks anymore for how bad this got.

[Deleted]

Ana's hurt and doing a poor job of hiding it. Even beneath her warm bronze skin, her cheeks are flushed pink with embarrassment. Betrayal looms and brings a sore head, her mind pricks and pounds. She's usually so careful with her words but one shot and two drinks later, her filter seems to have failed her. Words she thought she was so careful choosing moments ago, words that she thought were so meaningful and poetic in the state of her loose tongue, were now words of regret. The vulnerability she unleashed was proven to be false and bullshit, deemed worthless in her reply. Her right hand is still tingling, even as she balls her hands up and shoves them in her pocket. Her mouth is dry and the nausea has returned. The cars pass without any gaps between them, offering no room for the quick escape she so desperately wants. Her neck cranes into the traffic, begging for a chance to run away. Her eyes are giving her away and she feels them well up with hot tears. They look up to the cloudy black sky and she bats them, trying to take control of an accidental surge of emotion. But then he's grabbing her arm again and she's lacking the battle it takes to shove him away, instead she allows herself to be pulled back. When she looks back at him she can the faint imprint of her hand on his face and she winces apologetically. ”I don't know how you want me to react,” she says between his explanation. She doesn't, she's lost with it. Her mind is busy trying to dissect all he has said that night, and she can't grasp it. She's lacks confidence, but then he gives her no reason to be certain, as he's switching sides yet again. Her eyes still watery and hot, her fingers wipe brimming tears away. ”What do you want me to say? What should I do? Do you think this isn't a headfuck for me? It isn't easy for either of us,” she gives a sort of plea, eyes falling to the wet ground and feet shifting in their place. ”I just.. I don't know how to continue. Because if I say anything you're going to analyze it to death, but if I go up there I'm going to lay awake and think about how this could be resolved.” her fingers sink deeper into her pockets, ”I can't even hate you, it's so tiring.” ................................................... music: whiplash ost notes: blahblahblah

[Deleted]

IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... It hurt to see her hurting and to know that he had caused it. The one thing he had sworn to himself that he would never, ever do for as long as he would live, and here he was, doing it. He was causing his ex girlfriend yet more unnecessary pain, sadistically so. What was it about the combination of his personality and hers that was so volatile? He suspected that it was nothing to do with a fundamental lack of compatibility but rather the opposite, that he got on with her so seamlessly that it panicked him, making him act irrationally. Where usually he would see false bravado and let it slide, he couldn't help but take every brazen word she uttered at face value, to feel threatened by her strength despite the fact he admired it so. She always seemed so tall, and no amount of experience in how very easy it was to cut her down ever seemed to stop him from doing it again. He hated that he had changed so little in such a long time.  Aching with regret, she winces at what he assumes to be a big red mark across his pale cheek. It breaks him that she would regret that, as if it hadn't been a long, looong time coming. He loosens his grip on her but doesn't let his hand fall from her arm, reluctant to break the physical contact. "I don't know how I want you to react either. I'm too busy wondering how you want me to react to really think about what reaction I'm expecting to get back." He tried a weak smile, hoping she'd realize the futility of the situation they had backed themselves into. How had it even come to this? He could have sworn that mere moments ago they were enjoying a pleasant drink, conversation flowing freely, uninhibited. Now he has absolutely no idea what to say to her, how to make this situation right.  Tears start to form amidst her sooty lashes and that really is too much for him to bear. "Stop, stop," he starts, half awkward, half broken by the reaction he's caused. He never was very good with people crying. "Stop," he repeats, a little pleadingly, the fingers of one hand gently brushing at her cheek. He pulls her close, shhing her, his arms slightly stiff around her slight frame. "I didn't mean it. I'm not trying to analyze you. I mean, I am, but only so I can stop saying all the wrong things... I'm clearly not doing a great job of that." He let her go, awkwardly running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He sighed deeply, frustrated by his inability to communicate effectively. "I'm not trying to start shit, but don't you think you do the same thing to me? Bringing Ellie up like that? There's no right answer-- if I say I love her and I'm excited to marry her, that'll be offensive to you. If I say she'll never compare to you, hey, that's offensive too, and I get bonus douche points for being a cunt about my fiancee. There's no right answer, but you still asked the question." ................................................... music: the smiths. notes: idk idk

[Deleted]

Despite being a somewhat distant person when it came to communication, Ana was horribly emotional and easy to read. At times of peak happiness, she was giddy and high pitched, her face filled with a wide smile. When confident, she stood straight and courageously. In times where her happiness and confidence were at stake, she was doe eyed and tight lipped. In this very moment, she was exposed. Those hot tears sat on her fluffy eyelashes and her sinuses became stuffy, her voice cracking a bit. The more she tried to reign these emotions in and fake it, the more she seemed to flush and seem uneasy. The taller she attempted to stand, the shorter she felt. ”I only went in to get some spinach,” she laughs a bit, sniffling and tipping her head back to gain control over her hot nostrils. ”I'm not really crying,” she tries to explain as he pulls her closer, ”I'm really not.. I'm just allergic to confrontation.” She accepts the embrace awkwardly, her body leaning in but her arms remaining within her pockets. Ana begins to calm down and forces herself into a steady breathing pattern, in, out, in out. Tears begin to dry stiffly on her cheeks, staining the foundation that she half-assed applied. ”I got a little heated... I shouldn't have mentioned it. I turn catty when I drink, we should have went for coffee like you suggested,” she shifts her weight and looks away from his gaze. ”I'm just jealous, and confused, and bitter.” ................................................... music: hanni notes: short and horrible and omg i'm so sorry