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Post by ana isabel bailey on Jun 15, 2009 22:06:13 GMT -5
 Annie's eyes turned to him as he laughed to himself and she shook her head, laughing a bit to herself. All she could think was that she'd put herself through this sort of humiliation tens of times. Her dad had had weekend visitation with her and that was when she'd gotten into all her trouble. He'd get into the liquor since he didn't have to work and call his whores and that was when Ana would leave. It was just unfortunate that when she left she'd fallen in with the wrong people, though that was to be expected when her weekends had been spent in Rose Park. No one in Rose Park was what one would call the "right" people, though. At any rate getting herself trashed had made her feel better about her life at the time with the divorce and the move and everything else that had gone wrong. In and of itself the drinking wouldn't have gotten her in much trouble, but Annie was pretty and the combination had made her a complete magnet for getting used. Ana took responsibility for her actions, but she knew she never would have been that way if it hadn't been for her parents throwing her life off kilter. It was a lot of the reason she was determined that if she ever did marry she was under no circumstances getting divorced. She supposed it was good that she'd found out that Jason was a cheater before she'd committed herself to him for the rest of her life.
With a little pained sigh she looked in his direction as he said her name. She was already adjusted to his odd slurred voice and didn't even pay it any attention. Her foot eased off the gas a bit when he told her he'd seen how hurt she was and tears stung her eyes. She'd lost a part of herself because of it and she hated him for it. Her lips thinned and she focused on the lake they were crossing over, one eye still on the road, determined not to let the tears actually spill over, even though they already had. She shook her head when he asked her how she could even look at him, her voice croaking a bit. Her cheeks reddened but not because of anger. She was embarrassed that he'd brought her to tears after all her resolve. Squeezing the driving wheel, she slowly turned to look at him, "You broke my heart," she whispered to him, glancing down and then looking back at the road. "I... I've been through this before," she murmured, talking a bit louder, "I can't hate you forever. You meant too much to me for that." Slowing the car to a stop as they reached the end of the causeway she flicked on the blinker and pulled out on the road heading back to Salt Lake. She didn't want to talk about it anymore.
Her mind was a whir as she drove, but she didn't let the thoughts linger or really even process. She couldn't even keep her mind in one place. She bounced from the memories she had of them that she held on to like there was some sort of hope for them as a couple to that horrible night that she'd give anything to forget. As soon as he was safely in his house she was going home and crying herself to sleep. Her emotions were shot though so that didn't really seem like a viable option. She supposed she could just fall asleep and convince herself this was all a very disconcerting dream. The drive was simple once they got into the city and she guided the car along, her hand reaching to turn off the air when she realized Jason was shivering. Never mind the fact that the air was on low and the temperature outside was something like ninety-five degrees.
Driving down his street felt odd as she looked at all the highly irrigated sod and the nice trees that slightly shaded the road as the sun dipped down for the night. It was such a nice, peaceful place and from the moment she'd driven down it with him after a date she'd seen it as a place she could comfortably have a family in with few worries about anything bad happening to them. It had always been so nice for taking walks together and the nice married couple across the street had always been friendly. She'd never actually gotten around to inviting them over, but she'd wanted to. And then she saw his house, what had been their house, and she felt that painful shock again. It had only been home for four months, but those had been four wonderful months and they'd become so close. With a little sigh she pulled into the drive way and shifted the car into park, the engine humming as he seemed to just sit there. Annie shifted, her maternal side kicking into overdrive and thinking he was unconscious, before he moved to get out and she settled back a bit. "No, you don't," she said with a shake of her head when he said he owed her, but though she knew he heard her a bill still dropped to the seat where he'd been sitting and he shut the door and walked away. Glancing over at it she realized it was a fifty and she shook her head. Jason was the only person she knew that carried around such large bills. Taking her eyes up to look at him she watched as he fell, hesitating on what to do. He was getting up again, so she knew he hadn't injured himself too badly and yet at the same time seeing him fall pulled at her. Nibbling her pink lip she took her hand off the gearshift and pulled the keys out of the ignition with a heavy sigh. Even as he slipped in the door she didn't feel like she could go. She could at least make sure he got into bed ok. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall down the stairs yet again.
Walking up the steps to the house, she turned the knob on the door and let herself on in. He was too out of it to think to lock the door, but even if he was she still had the key. She'd meant to put it in the mailbox so he'd find it or something where she wouldn't have to see him, but she still hadn't done so. It was really just forgetfulness more than any sort of way of trying to hold on. She wouldn't really want someone running around with a key to her apartment, even an ex. Pressing the door shut with a muffled thump she turned the lock out of habit and stood quietly until she heard the creak of his leather sofa, slowly shuffling into the open space. Staring in at where he was sitting on the couch all curled up she let out a sigh. Moving a bit closer she noticed his favorite blanket and favorite pillow tossed beside him. He'd never been a nap person so she knew he'd been sleeping down here, but it didn't exactly click in her mind why. Sure the couch was plenty comfy, but she'd rather sleep in a bed any day. Finally crossing the room to the couch she gazed down at his hands and knees, "You're skinned up pretty bad," she muttered, eying the blood on his swim trunks. She looked him in the eye for a long moment and then turned around, making her way up the stairs. She paused for a moment at the doorway to his room, nibbling her lip and about to just leave before she sucked it up and walked in. She kept her eyes carefully on the ground as she crossed to the bathroom, pulling open the cabinet beneath the sink and taking out a first aid kit. They had always been a total joke as far as Annie was concerned and then she'd met Jason and realized the practicality of one. Flicking the light to the bathroom off she walked into the dim bedroom, still avoiding the bed with her eyes and pulled open one of his drawers, digging out a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. She still didn't get why she was doing all this, she really didn't, but something kept driving her on as she walked back downstairs and into the family room.
She met his eye when he looked up at her and she shook her head, walking to the couch and sitting down next to him, drawing her legs up Indian style and placing what she'd been carrying next to her. Setting her hand out she motioned her finger for him to give her his hand, "C'mon, lemme see it," she told him. She'd done this what seemed like a million times. It wasn't so much that he couldn't do his own as that he generally wouldn't, though now he seemed much too tanked for anything really. Looking up from her pale little hand she looked at him, some light still creeping in through the windows behind them and hitting his face so that his jawbone looked so smooth and his nose perfect and his lips looking as succulent and capable of delivering a spine shivering kiss as ever. Swallowing, she bit her lip and with her free hand pushed her hair back, fighting back the lust that continued to nibble at her, though looking down hadn't exactly helped. "Lemme see," she said again, needing to get out of here before she did something else stupid to add to her lengthy list of very stupid mistakes, already counting coming into his house as one of them.
words: 1642
wearing: this
driving: this
notes: hmm... not excessively museful, it just worked out being long.
lyrics: "jesus saves (white trash like you)" by rick springfield
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Post by jason andrew irving on Jun 16, 2009 1:06:42 GMT -5
When she said he had broke her heart, his dark eyes just turned blank, the guilt eating at him even though the drunken stupor he had put himself in. Wasn’t that why he had picked up the nasty habit, to drink away his pain and try to forget the guilt? He wished she hadn’t thrown out his bottle; he could have drank himself completely unconscious when he got back to his house. He shook his head side to side slowly when she said she couldn’t hate him forever; she might not be able to, but he was fairly sure he’d hate himself for hurting her for quite some time. Without even looking at her, he knew she was in tears just by the slight croaking in her voice and he decided it was best not to ask anymore questions. Then again, he really couldn’t hurt her anymore…could he?
He zoned out for the rest of the ride, his thoughts centered on her as usual, but because he was so drunk, he couldn’t focus on any one thought for too long before it completely slipped his mind. There was one thought that he kept coming back to, though, and that was how he wished he could just curl up and die. Hurting her had been the biggest mistake he had ever made and he couldn’t think of any other way to make up for it. No, he’d never be able to actually go through with killing himself unless he accidentally drank too much and that killed him, but when he drank, he became incredibly depressed and those thoughts tended to be the most vivid ones that he could actually focus on. Not that he ever remembered those the next day; they tended to come when he was completely gone.
Somehow, the dull humming of the motor seemed to tell him they were sitting still and he pulled out of his trance. Blinking slowly, he stumbled out of the car and up his front steps. He couldn’t figure out why he fell. Sure, he was drunk and he was a klutz on his own, but these were his steps, steps he had walked up probably thousands of times. Why did he only fall now? The little thought annoyed him to no end as he wobbled into his living room and over to his couch.
Jason couldn’t figure out why he was so cold, even after he stepped out onto his driveway. Sure, it was night, but it was Salt Lake. It was the desert; it was probably ninety degrees after the sun went down. How could he feel like he was a block of ice when it was so hot outside? He didn’t place the blame on the alcohol, though, he placed it on himself, as usual. He figured it was because he felt so cold metaphorically and it was finally turning into a more physical sort of chill. That was just the alcohol thinking.
He hadn’t heard his door open again, so seeing her standing there surprised him and he blinked hard a few times to make sure he really was seeing her. Shaking his head, he sighed sadly. “Don‘t worry ‘bout it. It‘s not that bad,” he murmured, speaking the honest truth when she said he had skinned himself up pretty bad and he sort of shrunk away from her gaze, feeling terrible as she walked away. He had caused more damage to himself making dinner when he accidentally sliced open his finger. This was minimal. Just because he was bleeding didn’t mean it wouldn’t stop; he’d just let it stop on its own while he was asleep on the couch. He really couldn’t care less if he got the blood on his clothes, it was already on his swim trunks.
Tilting his dark head slightly as he watched her return and listened to her words, processing them rather slowly, he shook his head and rested his chin on the armrest of the couch when he finally understood she was asking to see his hands. She didn’t have to take care of him, they’d be fine on their own. Glancing over at her, he watched her bite her lip and her gaze drop away from his face. He didn’t take it as she was fighting back any sort of lust, he took it as he was hurting just by looking at him. Picking up his pillow from where it was resting, he curled his body around it, his eyes on his blanket as he shivered again, still unbelievably cold. Sighing, he gave in and sat up slowly when she insisted upon seeing his hand and he looked at her almost warily. The words she had snapped at him on the last time she had been in his house were echoing in his head; he had expected her to say something that he didn’t want to hear, but for some reason, the burning look in her eyes as she struggled away from his hold and her cold words had hurt him more than he even imagined. “Get away from me you bastard.” He whimpered quietly as he held out his left hand. “Careful,” he mumbled just like a little kid. His wrist was really starting to hurt again and he wasn’t quite sure, but it looked like it was starting to swell again.
After she was done taking care of him, his dark eyes looked into hers as she sat beside him, looking over her face and lingering on her lips for just a moment before falling away from her completely. He sighed and rested his head against his hands before tilting it sideways, his eyes closed. “God, Ana, I miss you so much,” he whispered, his drunken voice broken apart. Opening his eyes to look at her, he picked his head up, his eyes focusing on her face slowly. As he looked down at her lips again, a sudden urge came over him, something he wouldn’t have even considered doing if he was only half as drunk as he was now. She was sitting close enough to him, it didn’t take any time for him to press his lips to hers, not letting any more of his body touch her than his lips however bad he wanted to. His lips parted and his tongue slipped out smoothly like nothing had changed between them, like they had just been curled up together on the couch. It didn‘t take long for him to slide closer to her, though, and he rested one hand on her mid-thigh, the other on her neck. He could have stayed like that forever; he missed the feel so much. He felt his lips pulling up into a smile, something that felt completely foreign after the last two months. Even trashed he felt like this was where he belonged, like everything was right in the world with her next to him like this.
Finally, his drunken mind finally raised the red flag, and the fact he was actually making out with his ex really clicked. This was what had caused things to go sour before, only with another woman, a different ex. He pulled away quickly and tucked his legs up against his body, putting them in between him and her, wrapping himself around his pillow again. He leaned against the armrest of the couch like he could disappear into it if he tried hard enough. His stomach started to churn with what felt like nothing more that his self-loathing. If he did this with her when he was drunk, she probably figured by now he had slept with plenty of other girls since they broke up when in reality, he hadn’t left the club with anyone at anytime, no matter how completely wasted he was. He looked at her, surprise, hurt, joy and even a little bit of lust all showing behind the glazed look in his eyes. Pressing his face into his pillow, he wondered briefly if he could suffocate himself with it. “Jus‘ kill me now,” he mumbled, his voice almost completely muffled by the pillow.
words; 1,351 wearing; this |
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Post by ana isabel bailey on Jun 17, 2009 23:53:30 GMT -5
Ana watched a shiver course through him as he curled into a ball around the pillow he'd always been so fond of. When for some reason they had actually taken a nap he'd slept with it, her head on his stomach and that very blanket over the two of them. They'd only done so once or twice when one of their usually overlapping classes had been cancelled for one reason or another and they'd been too tired to do anything else with themselves. It had always been nice, just curling up together in the middle of the day, doing nothing but talking and waiting until their bodies plunged into sleep. Things had been so simple, so very simple, and so perfectly right. She knew she wasn't going to find that again. Letting out a rather heavy sigh as he hesitantly placed his hand in hers with a whimper she pushed the thoughts from her mind. She couldn't figure out why he was looking at her so warily. It wasn't like she was going to snap his wrist in two all over again, though he'd need to have that done if he ever wanted that wrist to heal properly. She didn't know why every ounce of his common sense had followed her out the door. Brushing a small finger over the messy scraped skin of his hand and then touching his warm wrist she nodded and reached over for the bandages and disinfectant. She occasionally wondered if it wouldn't have been better for her to become a nurse. She was quite savvy with a first aid kid. It had actually been a consideration before she'd volunteered at a retirement home for service hours and realized the need for more people to defend the elderly. It had just struck a cord and she'd been determined ever since it was what she wanted to do. Gazing at her handywork with his injuries she supposed the nurse career path she'd have to save for her "next life."
She'd all but forgotten some of the last words she'd said to him. Of course she'd meant to hurt him at the time, as though her words would make her feel better by making him feel worse, but she wouldn't have wanted them to keep hurting him. The context had been out of frustration. She hadn't wanted to be held by the same hands that had been holding Dahlia Anderson not even five minutes before and feel his heat for her if he got too close. She'd watched quite a few episodes of Cheaters and her reaction to it all had been rather mild, though as she eyed the end table she didn't think she would have been able to throw it at his head anyway. Shaking her head she straightened her back a bit and started to reach for the clothes she had grabbed for him to sleep in since his swim trunks were now stained with blood when she realized he was speaking. Letting out a mild sigh she shook her head ever so slightly, not entirely sure what to say to that. She couldn't verbalize her agreement for obvious reasons, and no matter how much she missed him she knew they simply couldn't be together anymore. There was no possible way.
Before it could even dawn on her that he was no longer just staring at her the warming sensation of his lips pressing against hers was spreading throughout her body and only a very tiny part of her being screamed for her to stop him, everything else melting as though she'd never been kissed by him before. He certainly didn't waste his time simply tugging on her lips with his, more sloppily than usual, but briliantly all the same. His mouth opening she was more than ready to taste him all over again, though she fast realized he tasted more like whisky and less like Jason. It didn't really matter though as his tongue slid smoothly over hers, giving a gentle suck after a moment. She didn't know who he'd been practicing on, but he was still amazingly good at kissing, that was for sure. The part of her that had wanted him to stop was being overpowered like a steam roller over a sheet of glass. She felt his body move closer and his hand come to rest on her thigh, just below her shorts and the other carefully touch her neck. It felt so good to be touched like that again she realized, a moan escaping her and flowing into his mouth, his lips curving in delight. It didn't even occur to her as her hand slid beneath his tee shirt, coarsing over his stomach and the other curled like a baby's hand around a lock of his black hair that she was kissing her ex boyfriend, fiancé really, the same man that had cheated on her. He was for that moment the same as before and his body was one that she wanted to be tangled up with all over again.
She hadn't been about to stop, she was ashamed to say, and just as she pulled the hand from beneath his tee shirt to undo her top he was the one that pulled his lips from hers a bit abruptly. Carefully taking her remaining hand away from him she set the two of them in her lap, not meeting his eye. She shook her head, "Oh God," she breathed, sliding away from him as he shifted from her. Was this always how he was drunk? Sure it had been building since the moment his hands had touched her back earlier, but she'd never meant to actually act on her desire, even if all she'd done was not push him away. That was what she should have done she knew, he was after all drunk and she was supposed to be the responsible one, at least for the moment. Having sex with him sounded very appealing even now that she realized what she was doing, but she knew how wrong that was. Her eyes met his when he finally lifted it, reading his easily as a rather confusing mixture of emotions. Hers on the other hand were very simple for once: she was confused beyond belief. She didn't even know what she wanted or didn't want anymore or what was right and what was wrong. He'd screwed everything up all over again. He'd always had a way of doing that, for better or worse, from the moment she'd first spoken to him. She just barely registed what he begged into the pillow and a heavy sigh escaped her. Inwardly she wanted the same.
Realizing she was sitting on top of his clothes she lifted her butt off and pulled them out, setting them in the space between them. Trying to sound composed and as though she hadn't had her tongue in his mouth only a minute before she tried to move past what they'd just done, "Why don't you change out of that," she suggested, patting the tee shirt that laid on top. Shifting and standing to give him his privacy. There wasn't much of a point in doing this, but it would be strange if she watched him change, and it certainly wouldn't ease any feelings of lust. Barefoot and with her flip flops still in front of the couch she walked away, sliding her hands into her pockets, nearly out of the room when she stepped on something that stabbed painfully into her foot. Taking a step back she gazed down at the small thing, tilting her head to the side before realizing what it was. Her breath caught in her throat and it took her a moment to reach down and pick it up, holding it for a long moment. She had wanted that ring so badly and she could still remember how it had looked on her finger, nestled above a matching band and resting next to a twin band slid around Jason's ring finger. It had been enough to make her want to elope. She realized a tear had ran down her cheek as she mourned her loss and she set the ring carefully on the coffee table, meeting his eye as she set it down, and then ripping them away and walking out into the hallway like she'd meant to so he could change.
words: 1400 even, babe.
wearing: this
driving: this
notes: I'm not entirely happy with it but oh well.
lyrics: "jesus saves (white trash like you)" by rick springfield
listening to: Rob Thomas, John Mayer, The Jonas Brothers (thanks for that =P), and the Black Eyed Peas... random, I know.
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Post by jason andrew irving on Jun 18, 2009 12:54:00 GMT -5
It felt so perfect, so right, his lips on her. The way she moved her tongue against his could only mean she missed it, too and it took every ounce of control in his drunken body not to pull her right against him and lay down with her on top of him. Her moan didn’t help that, either, and the hand that rested on her thigh slipped around to her back, resting right above the waste line of her shorts. As she slipped her fingers up underneath of his t-shirt, he could only imitate her, his moan a little bit quieter as it escaped him. Her fingers wrapped around his dark curls only added to the intensity that he felt; he hadn’t realized that he missed this as much as he did. He knew he missed it and he wanted it back, but feeling it again made him realize just how bad he needed her.
He wasn’t sure what it was that had brought him to the realization of what he was doing, whether it was her hand leaving his skin or just the fact that it felt so right and nothing had felt so good for the past two months, but whatever it was made him realize the huge mistake he had just made. As he curled up away from her, he sighed. Now she probably thought he had been making out with every girl in sight when he was drunk and slept with half the whores in town. The farthest he had ever come to either one of those was dancing at the Port and of course that wasn’t the, well, cleanest way to dance. Even that he hadn’t done often; he didn’t find it enjoyable. Why should he dance with some stranger he just met? It didn’t help his heartache any.
He shrugged as she suggested he changed, his eyes looking down at the t-shirt and boxers. Why was she doing this again? Did he not just have his tongue in her mouth? “Doesn‘t matter…” he mumbled slowly, though he started to slip his shirt off all the same. She could have suggested he go jump off a cliff and he’d happily oblige. Nearly anything she suggested he’d be willing to do. Anything except have sex with her. However tempting it was, he just wouldn’t be able to do it. Yes, he still loved her, but it wasn’t the same when they weren’t a couple. Besides, that would only give her more of a reason to call him a bastard, wouldn’t it? He had been raised to believe that sex was only meant for someone you loved, she knew that. It would be hard to convince her of that after she had seen him with Dahlia and then sleeping with her when they weren’t together would only make him seem like more of a liar. Of course, she could be very convincing and he knew that he’d do anything to make her happy, even if it only made him seem worse.
He seemed to catch her pause as she went to leave the room and it seemed like time froze in place as she realized what she had stepped on. Two long months had passed and he hadn’t bothered picking it up from where it fell from his hands when she walked out his door. It was like a small, subtle reminder that they were through, that the ring would forever be on the floor instead of on her hand. Watching her as she set it on the end of the table he sighed, gesturing towards it. “That‘s yours,” he said rather quietly. Regardless of what she did with it, she should have it. He had no use for it anymore and he wouldn’t ever be able to bring himself to sell it. Assuming she was leaving, he sighed, his eyes resting on the ring. “Take it with you. The other one‘s upstairs if you want it, too.”
As soon as she stepped out of the room, the tears he felt building up overflowed from his eyes and ran down his cheeks, making changing into the boxers she had laid out for him even more difficult than it already was drunk. Crumpling his swim trunks and orange t-shirt in a ball, he tossed them next to the couch rather hopelessly and picked up his spotted blanket, wrapping it around him and burying his dark head into his pillow, his arms wrapped around it and pressing it against his face as he sobbed silently, hating himself more and more. If only he actually kept alcohol in the house, then maybe he could make himself feel better. Literally drink until he passed out, then he wouldn’t feel anything. And hey, maybe if he was lucky, it would kill him. Then neither one of them would have to suffer, right?
The tears didn’t last long as he felt his stomach churning more and more, his sides finally heaving slightly. He wasn’t sure what it was that was making him sick - the alcohol or the hatred, but whatever it was, he couldn’t lay on the couch and puke. Sighing, he sniffed and sat up slowly, letting the blanket fall from around his shoulders and the pillow rest against the couch. As the blanket left him, he shivered violently, still unable to figure out why he was so damn cold. Shivering didn’t help his stomach, though, and he stumbled out of his family room and into the hallway where Ana was standing, his gaze locked on the floor in front of him. Passing the steps, he went straight towards his downstairs bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet, his sides only heaving more as he did. How odd was it that this happened nearly every night after he was done drinking and yet he hardly ever remembered it happening?
He wasn’t sure how long he had been in his bathroom, feeling like he had puked his guts up, but when he was sure his stomach was empty and his body had given up hope of getting any more out of it, he stood up, his knees shaking and his body freezing cold, and stepped out into his hallway slowly. His face was crumpled unhappily as he made his way to the kitchen, tripping over himself a few times as he did and pulled out a glass to fill with water. He could still taste the stomach acid burning in his mouth. It was disgusting. He sloshed the water around in his mouth before swallowing it, not wanting to spit it out in the kitchen sink but not having the energy to walk back to the bathroom. After doing that two more times, Making his way very slowly back to his couch, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around him tightly, trying to keep as much heat against him as possible as his teeth chattered and he sat down on the end of the couch, his dark eyes looking completely dead.
words; 1,181 wearing; this |
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Post by ana isabel bailey on Jun 20, 2009 0:26:45 GMT -5
A little shiver passed through her as she set the ring down on the wooden table. Running the back of her hand over her cheek she slowly took her eyes off the beautiful little ring, and glanced up at where he sat shirtless on the couch, catching his dark eyes. Swallowing deeply she shook her head when he said it was hers, "No. It was ours," she whispered, pressing her clenched hand to her still reddened lips. It hurt so badly to talk in past tense, but it was true. The ring wasn't just some gift he'd bought for her because he thought she might like it. It had represented everything they felt for each other and every dream for their lives together that they'd lie awake at night talking about. It had meant everything, but now it meant nothing. "No," she murmured again when he told her to take it and the wedding band too, "I can't. I just can't." She couldn't explain why exactly she didn't want to be in possession of the rings. She wanted him to keep them. Some inward part of her that she didn't even know was still holding on to the hope that somehow, someway he'd be sliding it on her finger, not pressing her to take them for lack of anything else to do with them. Shaking her head, she spun and left the room, leaning against the banister once he was out of site and lifting her face up to keep the tears from falling down her face. With a hand she caught all of her hair up and held it, examining the ceiling another story up. "How is this my life," she whispered to the sky as though it could give her an answer.
She had no way of knowing if he had finished changing or not and she figured it was best not to check and make things more awkward than they already were. Somewhat more composed again she slipped her hands in her back pockets and looked around slowly at her old home. Everything was dusty she realized with a frown. They'd had a system when she'd been living with him, but apparently he had completely abandoned any sort of cleaning. She looked down from the ceiling in surprise when she heard footsteps and Jason rushed past her to the bathroom. Her stomach churned as behind the closed door he wretched, over and over until he finally got something up. Shivering, she knew there wasn't really anything she could do for him, just let him get the alcohol out of his body.
Wandering into the living room she picked up his stained clothes and took them into the laundry room, still hearing Jason's sickening attempts to purge the poorly mixed poison behind the door as she passed. Walking into the room her eyes widened as she stared at all the clothes that still needed to be washed, slowly pushing her way back and putting the blood sullied clothes into a cold wash so that maybe they'd come out clean. By the time she came back out he was wandering out of the bathroom and with a sigh she walked in to clean up the mess, coming out some five minutes later with a damp wash cloth and walking into the living room. She stopped at the corner of the room, staring at him as he shivered for a long moment before crossing to sit on the opposite end of the couch. Picking up the pillow he'd left sitting there she set it on her leg, "Lay down," she said quietly, gently. This was what she'd done when he was still hurting from the accident, just let him rest his head in her lap and fall asleep. "You're going to have to just sleep it off," she murmured as he rested his head on the pillow, carefully wiping his pale face with the moist cloth, her fingers combing through his dark curls in an attempt to comfort him as he shivered. Resting her head back against the soft cusion she gazed down at him and shook her head. Get a load of us, she thought to herself with a little laugh, not even entirely sure how she'd ended up here any more. If this wasn't love she didn't know what was, but all the love in the world wouldn't fix their broken relationship at this point, not the way she saw things now.
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A groan escaped Anabel as she blinked in the bright light that was filtering into the living room. Rolling over, she expected to feel the tongue of her dog and the softness of her sheets. Instead she found her face pressed against the leather of Jason's loveseat. It took her a long moment to realize where she was and how she'd gotten there, the memories from the night before hitting her in bits and pieces. Dragging a hand over her cheek she looked across the room at where her ex-boyfriend lay, still completely out. She was at least slightly sympathetic, knowing what it was like when you finally did wake up after drinking the night away. Slowly easing herself up she gazed down at herself, questioning for a moment how she ended up in his boxers and wife beater before realizing she'd needed something to change into and been unable to find anything else clean. She'd never really been much of one for putting on guy's clothes, but she had to admit she looked quite cute. Giving a shrug she ran her fingers through her long, messy strands of blond hair. They weren't as straight as they had been the night before. Twitching her lips a bit she scratched an itchy spot on her shoulder blade and slid off the loveseat, checking to make sure he was still breathing and praying a little thankful prayer for that before she wandered into the kitchen. Everything was where she remembered it being, though there didn't seem to be a lot of food in the house, at least not as much as when he'd had her cooking for him. Grabbing the coffee canister out of the pantry she fixed two cups worth, one for herself and one for him as a hangover fix. Not that it worked all that well, but it was better than nothing.
Turning the coffee maker on she walked into the breakfast nook, flopping down in a chair and pulling a foot up so she could rest her chin on her knee. It felt so weird to be waking up here again, to be sitting in this kitchen. There were a lot of memories in here she mused to herself, gazing at the cabinet she'd whacked her head against and blamed it on him, claiming he'd rubbed off on her. Her eyes drifted to where the wood cutting board sat. If she were to look close up she'd see a darkened spot where he'd cut his finger open trying to cut up some mushrooms for her one night when she'd been making dinner. Taking a look at the stove she thought of all the little kisses and hugs he'd snuck up behind her and given to her, the laughs that had passed through her lips. Even the time they'd let their dinner burn when flirtation had gone a bit too far and they'd ended up making love right there in the kitchen like a couple of animals. A little laugh escaped her and she shook her head. Looking back it seemed incredibly stupid and even kind of gross, but at the time it had felt wonderfully right as he'd grinned that boyish grin and gazed at her like she was the only woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She'd been living in a fantasy world to let herself think like that. Getting up she fixed herself a cup of coffee, the sugar cubes she loved still in a little bowl on the counter, and poured the rest of the coffee in a second mug, carrying both back to the little table. Glancing into the living room to see if he'd moved to get up yet she crossed her legs in a lady-like manner, a complete contradiction to her attire and took a sip of her coffee. She wondered how much he'd remember from the night before, hoping their little make out session was for her to know and him to forget, and anxious to see just how hung over he was going to be. She didn't know exactly what to do or how she was going to do it, but something had to give and she knew she couldn't in good conscience leave without setting him straight.
words: 1453
wearing: wait, no, this
notes: hmm, it kind of seems to drag too much, but whatever. and I powerplayed a bit because I'm a bad person. xD
lyrics: "jesus saves (white trash like you)" by rick springfield
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Post by jason andrew irving on Jun 20, 2009 2:17:12 GMT -5
It didn’t even really hit him that Ana was still there as he slowly made his way to his couch, feeling like he was half dead. Shivering as he curled his body up around himself, he could feel his body wanting to get rid of more of the alcohol, but there was nothing left in his stomach to get rid of. His eyes closed slowly and all he wanted to do was slip into unconsciousness, whether it was sleep or alcohol induced. Only when he felt something shift the other end of the couch did he peel open his eyes to see Ana sitting there and he sighed, feeling terrible. He watched her pick up his pillow and rest it against her leg, giving her a quizzical look when she told him to lay down, but he was too worn out to protest and tell her to go home. Nodding very slowly when she said he’d just have to sleep off the alcohol, he sighed deeply. A violent shiver ran up his spine when she touched the cool cloth to his face though it felt so good. He felt a few tears escape from behind his closed eyes as he felt her fingers sliding through his hair, remembering all the happier times when she had done it. “I‘m so sorry,” he mumbled quietly. He wrapped the fleece blanket up around his shoulders tightly, as though being closer to his body could produce more heat. If he didn’t feel so sick, this could almost bring a smile to his face; it was almost like old times. Or after the wreck after he graduated from sleeping in the recliner. Either way, he missed it, but this wasn’t exactly the way he had hoped to get it back.
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When Jason woke up the next morning, he thought there was an axe splitting his head in two. No, an axe in his head might feel better than what he was feeling. Groaning, he sighed, trying to remember why his hangover was so terrible as he tried to convince himself to get off of the couch and wander into the kitchen. Waking up on the couch was the norm for him now since he couldn’t bring himself to stay in a room with all of his memories - both good and bad. He closed his eyes tightly and rested his arms over top of them, shielding them from the light with his arms and focused hard on the previous night. Wait - did he smell coffee? He scrunched his face up, confused, assuming it was just his messed up mind and went back to trying to remember what he had done the night before. The beach earlier in the day was the first thing that came to him, since he had been sober when he first arrived, along with running into Anabel. The though of their awkward conversations made him cringe and once again, he felt terrible for what he did to her, both two months ago and the previous day; watching him poison himself could not have been fun for her. Or perhaps it had been rather enjoyable. He remembered the beer and then going to get the Jack Daniels bottle from his car. There had been more conversation about where she was staying and some very Ana-ish words from her when she saw the strong liquor in his hands. From there, things faded in and out, some memories only half there. He remembered a little bit more at the beach, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was and he remembered bits and pieces of the car ride home with Ana though nothing really stuck out. The next thing that he could really remember was his lips against hers, one of her hands under his shirt and the other wrapped around his hair. A jolt struck him as he realized he had to be the one to do that. Of course he’d kiss her as drunk as he had been.
Groaning again, he finally rolled off of the couch and he thought his head was going to explode as he wobbled a little bit, taking a few deep breaths to get some oxygen to his brain. Pressing his palms against his eyes, wishing his head would just explode to get rid of his headache, he stumbled towards the kitchen, not quite sure what he was going to get from there. When he finally stepped into his kitchen and pulled his hands from his eyes, he felt like he had walked into a wall of bricks and he stopped, blinking a few times to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing; Ana had stayed overnight? He noticed his boxers and wife beater on her and a wave of horror washed through him at the question that slipped into his mind. He couldn’t help but blurt it out, almost afraid to hear the answer. “We didn‘t…” he stopped there, knowing she’d figure out what he was going to say and praying the answer was no. He remembered at least part of their make-out session, but he wasn’t sure if their clothes had stayed on or not. Well, obviously hers hadn’t and he didn’t remember changing into the boxers and t-shirt he had on now. Oh yes, that showed how responsible he was.
He took a deep breath and settled himself into the chair next to her, feeling completely lost, unable to look her in the eyes. If he couldn’t remember what he did with Ana, how was he suppose to be sure he hadn’t slept with any whores from the Port? Okay, he always remembered leaving alone, he just didn’t always remember the ride home or getting into his house, that was a little different. Blinking a few times, wishing as he always did during his hangovers that his head wouldn’t hurt as bad as he did, he kept his gaze on the table and bit his lip, not quite sure what to say to Ana. He finally decided on a question that was only fair she answered. “Why‘d you stay last night?” he asked quietly, the surprise clear in his quiet voice. It didn’t make any sense; he remembered the hurt look on her face like it had been two days ago, not two months. Even if she did still have feelings for him, why did she take him home and then stay? He didn’t remember asking her the same question that was on his mind now in her car on the way home the previous night. Something told him if she was still here, she had some very, well, Anabel things to say. She’d probably tell him something along the lines of what he had told her ages ago; how much he hated drinking and smoking and such. Perhaps she’d remind him of when he turned down the watered down wine and hurt his chances of winning favor with her mom. Not that that really mattered now. He had promised Mariana that he wouldn’t hurt her daughter and what had he done? Basically torn her heart out and shattered it.
words; 1,193 wearing; this |
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Post by ana isabel bailey on Jun 21, 2009 18:30:49 GMT -5
The creak of a spring in the other room brought Annie out of her bitter reminiscing. It was already quite late in the morning she realized when she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Leaning forward in her chair she looked into the other room to see if Jason was getting up or if he'd just rolled over, but the lamp setting on the end table obstructed her view. With a sigh she leaned back. She couldn't quite figure out how he could sleep on the couch without rolling off it and landing flat on his face. He'd never even been able to make out with her on it without landing on the floor, even taking her with him once. Lifting her shirt a bit to scratch an itchy spot on her lower back, she shook her head at the memory. It seemed at times like she had more memories with him than she had for her entire life. With a bit of a sigh she wondered what she was supposed to do with herself until he woke up. Sitting here and letting herself think wasn't really a good idea. She was already a bit ticked at how much her wall against him had crumbled.
Before she had time to even think of anything constructive a tall figure stumbled into the room, shielding his eyes from the light. How she knew that feeling. It was even worse when some man was behind her, wanting her to come back to bed. It had to be among the worst feelings she'd ever known; that she was nothing more than a body he wanted to use. It was easily the reason Jason had made her feel so good when they were together. Wrinkling her nose she straightened her features when he finally dared to uncover his eyes. He stared at her for what felt like an eternity before she thought to speak, "Good morning," she greeted before realizing it didn't work, "Well, not for you." Mornings when you were that hung over were never good. He didn't really respond though, looking her up and down slowly, his entire face registering a combination of contempt and aversion. She gazed at him with a bit of confusion, not comprehending as quickly as she probably should have. Following his eyes down to her body her eyes widened, "No! No," she repeated herself a bit more quietly, her blue eyes staring at him. She couldn't help but wonder if he often found women in his kitchen in the mornings and if whether or not he'd slept with them was a usual concern. It certainly didn't seem like the Jason she knew, but she wasn't really sure if aside from having the same body he was the same.
It took him a moment to move before he settled himself in the chair next to her, seeming to just stare into space and avoiding her eye. After a minute she slid her chair back and walked into the kitchen, digging through the medicine basket on the counter for some Tylenol, letting two of the little pills fall into her hand and screwing the lid back on before returning to him. Setting them on the table in front of him she sat back down, resting her chin in her hand. "Take that and drink the coffee," she said, nodding in reference to the things in front of him. Ana wouldn't call herself a genius, but she knew a thing or two about hangovers, more by trial and error than anything. Not that it was something she was proud of, just the way things were. Her eyes on his face, expressionless, she sat there, for once not entirely sure what to say. Her eyebrows raised a bit when he asked her why she'd stayed and then she dropped her eyes, staring at the little mosaic embedded in the cement of the table. "I was scared," she murmured, her cheeks growing red. Ana wasn't the sort to admit a weakness, but she didn't want to lie. She just sat there for a long time, face down before she slowly lifted it, "You could've killed yourself, Jason, as much as you drank," she said, her eyes showing her fear and even a bit of confusion.
Slowly her eyes left him and she gazed out onto the patio, staring at the glistening water that filled the pool. "Look," she said, not facing him still, "Something's gotta give, Jay," she told him, looking back over at him. "I care too much for you to see you self-destruct like this," she said firmly, hesitantly touching his hand for only a moment. She leaned back in her chair, gazing at him, "Ok?" She could say plenty more on the topic, but she didn't want to go on for an hour and make herself sound like the teacher in the Peanuts.
words: 814. blech.
wearing: this
notes: ok. i'm officially museless. sorry.
lyrics: "jesus saves (white trash like you)" by rick springfield
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Post by jason andrew irving on Jun 21, 2009 21:11:27 GMT -5
Blinking slowly, her “good morning” didn’t exactly register with him and he gave her a confused look when she said it wasn’t for him. Finally it clicked and he nodded his head, wincing as he did. The confusion in her eyes and her slow response to his question made him nervous and he bit his lip, staring at her uneasily. After what seemed like an eternity and she responded, it was all he could do to breathe a sigh of relief. “That‘s good,” he murmured as he walked towards her to sit down. “I was gonna say, if you were the first one to make me cave, well…” he shrugged, avoiding her eye. “I guess I wouldn‘t really be surprised,” he ended up mumbling quietly. Even if he managed to avoid bringing anyone else back to his house, she would be the one to change everything. And with his luck, it would be the night that he was drunk that she’d end up pregnant, too. Well, that would be one way to get back together. “Oh hey, by the way, you’re having a kid. Thanks for getting drunk.” He could just kill himself now. At least things hadn’t turned out that way.
Jason winced as the chair scraped against the floor when she got up and walked away. It wasn’t the noise, but it seemed to echo in his head. He could hear every step she took like she was storming across the floor, putting as much force into her steps as possible even though she just well, walked. His elbows rested on the table and he pressed his eyes into his hands again. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but he was sure she wasn’t just leaving. She wouldn’t have stayed over night if that was her plan, just make sure he woke up and then left. No, that didn’t seem like her. He could hear her steps getting closer again and he picked up his head to look at her, though he still avoided her eyes. Raising his eyebrows as she set the Tylenol in front of him, he gave her a curious look a short, humorless laugh slipping from him. Apparently she was forgetting he had much stronger pain medications stored away from his surgeries. He wasn’t in the mood to argue, though, and he popped them both in his mouth, swallowing them with just a sip of the coffee, making a face as the bitter taste hit his tongue. He was much more of a Starbucks flavored coffee person than just straight up strong coffee.
He watched her eyes drop to the pattern on the table at his question and when she answered, he saw her cheeks turn red and he dropped his gaze to the mug in front of him, fidgeting with it uneasily. All he had done was hurt her more and more. His expression was completely dejected for a moment before he closed his eyes, a bitter look crossing his face when she said he could have died. After what felt like another eternity, he felt her eyes on him and looked up to meet them, seeing the fear in them. It hurt him to see her like that. Shaking his head sadly, he sighed, staring at the mug again. “Ana, it‘s going to happen soon or later. And with me it‘ll probably be sooner.” Sighing again, he fidgeted with the coffee mug, clearly avoiding her gaze. “I should have died in that crash, Ana. They don‘t know how I lived until the ambulance got there, much less to the hospital.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was bringing that up since it had happened, what, six, eight months ago. Something like that. Maybe it was because after they broke up and he started drinking, he realized his number would be up before he could even comprehend it. He wasn’t going to live to be the world’s oldest man, he knew that for a fact.
Only when he felt his eyes leave her did he look up at her, his dark eyes studying her face again, rememorizing it. Next time he fell asleep without the alcohol, he was sure she’d be there, haunting him in his dreams. Whether she was wrapped up in his arms or screaming at him and calling him a bastard again, she‘d be there. His eyes held hers when she said she cared too much and it clearly surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to admit that, even if she did. He opened his mouth to question her, but he quickly shut it, not quite sure how he wanted to say it. Taking a mental step back, he realized that if things had happened the other way around he would be doing the same thing she was. Of course, he didn’t take getting hurt - emotionally - well. He couldn’t stick around New York after that happened, so he couldn’t really guarantee that he’d still be here in Salt Lake if their roles had been switched. No, he knew that for a while the only thing that held him here was this house so even if he had been the one who got hurt, not the one causing it, he’d still be around. Sighing, he looked around the kitchen, his eyes resting on a few spots that held fond memories of the two of them and a very, very small smile came on his face, his eyes softening as he remembered the smell of their burning dinner and the feel of her body pressed against his, both of them laughing when they realized they had burnt their food. The same expression on his face, he turned his gaze to look at her and he nodded his head slowly. “Alright,” he said softly, knowing how right she was.
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