Melissa Etheridge kicks ass
Jan. 20th, 2006 09:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
axesladeNext part of my story, thanks to the talent of Melissa Etheridge
“It’s three in the damn morning, Mand.”
“Inspiration doesn’t wait for dawn.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Half hour, give or take. Go back to sleep, you need your rest.”
“I’ll wait up for you.”
“I’m going to be awhile. Sleep, I’ll have breakfast ready when you wake up.”
“…All right.”
“Don’t sound so upset, I’m just wired right now and if I got into bed I’d be crawling out of my skin. …You know I love you, right?”
“Of course. Good night…well, good morning, take your pick.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Jeremy woke up to the feel of dampness against his skin. He sighed when he tasted the salt of tears on his lips. The dreams were rarely that touching. Usually they were violent, memories of shattered glass and angry swears. Those ones just made him sick. These ones, though, these ones hurt. It hurt to remember the time when she had been so sweet. The time when, even when she was being her normal workaholic self, she managed to slip in a word or two to remind him that there was still something between them.
After lying there for close to ten minutes, letting his heart and head calm down, Jeremy stood up and went to the kitchen. While he drank some terrible instant coffee, he thought about that morning. It had been one of the last good ones. He should have sensed that she was reaching her breaking point then. She had gone out of her way to be nice, while before it had all come natural. He’d ignored all those out of character things, however, because he wanted so desperately to hang onto her. In fact he’d hung onto her after she snapped too. Even when she packed up all her things and left the state. He’d believed that she would cool down, as she always did, and would come back.
While he set his mug in the sink, Jeremy closed his eyes and bit his lip against the anger and confusion that came up when he thought about that letter. He would have understood a sharp, cold ‘return to sender’. At least then she would have admitted she didn’t want him in her life anymore. But no, she had to spit in his face by saying she didn’t know him, she’d never known much less dated any Jeremy, stay the hell away.
Against his will, a sob poured out of Jeremy’s mouth as he leaned over the sink. That bitch.
“It’s three in the damn morning, Mand.”
“Inspiration doesn’t wait for dawn.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Half hour, give or take. Go back to sleep, you need your rest.”
“I’ll wait up for you.”
“I’m going to be awhile. Sleep, I’ll have breakfast ready when you wake up.”
“…All right.”
“Don’t sound so upset, I’m just wired right now and if I got into bed I’d be crawling out of my skin. …You know I love you, right?”
“Of course. Good night…well, good morning, take your pick.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Jeremy woke up to the feel of dampness against his skin. He sighed when he tasted the salt of tears on his lips. The dreams were rarely that touching. Usually they were violent, memories of shattered glass and angry swears. Those ones just made him sick. These ones, though, these ones hurt. It hurt to remember the time when she had been so sweet. The time when, even when she was being her normal workaholic self, she managed to slip in a word or two to remind him that there was still something between them.
After lying there for close to ten minutes, letting his heart and head calm down, Jeremy stood up and went to the kitchen. While he drank some terrible instant coffee, he thought about that morning. It had been one of the last good ones. He should have sensed that she was reaching her breaking point then. She had gone out of her way to be nice, while before it had all come natural. He’d ignored all those out of character things, however, because he wanted so desperately to hang onto her. In fact he’d hung onto her after she snapped too. Even when she packed up all her things and left the state. He’d believed that she would cool down, as she always did, and would come back.
While he set his mug in the sink, Jeremy closed his eyes and bit his lip against the anger and confusion that came up when he thought about that letter. He would have understood a sharp, cold ‘return to sender’. At least then she would have admitted she didn’t want him in her life anymore. But no, she had to spit in his face by saying she didn’t know him, she’d never known much less dated any Jeremy, stay the hell away.
Against his will, a sob poured out of Jeremy’s mouth as he leaned over the sink. That bitch.
