Title: Laughter
Summary: ". . . And she swore she wouldn't forget him. (Move on.) She never did. But he forgot her. (Grow up.) She looks down at the untouched glass of alcohol in front of her and laughs . . ."
Pairings: One-sided Courtney/Duncan, mentions Duncan/Gwen
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. But hey, Christmas is coming up, right?
There are 1,523 Courtney Fanfictions out there . . . I guess this'll make it 1,524.
Chapter Only – Moving On and Growing Up
The bar is loud.
The bar is loud and crowded and weird and dangerous and different and – and – and –
And nobody notices her slip in.
Bumping past a young man, hardly older than herself – and resisting the urge to apologize, though he was too drunk to notice her anyways – she sits down on a barstool. Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she slumps over.
The bartender, noticing her discomfort, pulls out a glass and grinned at her.
"What can I get for ya tonight, sweetheart?" he asks.
She looks up. It isn't the same. The bartender's teasing tones, self-centered and sweet, bring back buried memories. It is close to the voice from so long ago, but it isn't the same.
Against her will, a faint smile dances on her face. She whispers to herself, so quiet that the sound never reaches her own ears.
"Duncan."
Just as soon as it appeared, the smile is replaced by a scowl. Her onyx eyes glaring at bartender, she silently dares him to say something.
Grinning amusedly, he chuckles. "Quiet type, eh? No worries, this place's plenty loud enough as it is. Stay awhile, and drink your troubles away."
He pours her a glass, thinking. After spending years with all sorts of shifty characters, the bartender long ago learned how to deal with different customers. Because it is what went unsaid that is the most important.
He didn't tell her that she scared him. There is something off about her. Pain lingers in her eyes, along with a thirst for revenge, a promise to hold a grudge to her grave and beyond, a –
He blinks.
She places the glass back on the counter, empty, silently.
Unsettled by her, the bartender pours her another glass.
Conversationally, he says, "You know, you seem familiar. Do I recognize you?"
Looking down at her glass, now resting alone forlornly, the alcohol twinkling in the darkness, she answers, "No."
He is seriously spooked now. She is an itch on his brain. He's seen her before. But he doesn't know where.
Turning her attention away from the bartender, she rests her gaze on the television screen hanging on the wall. Her eyes widen in disbelief. That tune, that face, that plane . . .
She smiles again, a cruel and twisted grimace, mocking him, mocking the world, mocking herself.
An oh, so familiar show returns from its commercial break, and she wonders which episode –
Ah.
Karma's a bitch.
She watches herself hug him – 'for the last time,' she thinks to herself – and foolishly tell him that she missed him. She watches as he looks past herself and grin at Gwen.
His voice isn't like she remembers in her memories. On the television screen, distorted by the bar speakers and the prospect of danger, he sounds deadly, egotistical, cold, and so full of himself – or, at least, that's what she tells herself.
Then it's Gwen in the confessional, complaining about her sunburned hand. All too late, she recognizes what's coming – and yes, sure enough, he walks in.
She can't tear her eyes away from the television screen. She knows she should, but she can't. It's like a car wreck – you can't turn your eyes away.
He takes Gwen's hand and smirks down at the Goth. There is a pause. The bar seems to grow silent.
As quick as it happens, it's over. And she can finally look away.
God damn it, she snaps at herself. Snap out of it. Move on.
She thinks of Total Drama Island, of how he teased her constantly.
He suggested she was eliminated that first challenge.
He's obviously moved on, so can you.
The paintball deer hunt. Their antlers were locked together.
He asked if she wanted to make out.
You are Courtney, for crying out loud! What about your pride, Miss CIT?
The phobia factor challenge. He was terrified of Celine Dion music store standees, she of green jello.
He conquered his fear, and she hugged him.
He might've liked you, who knows? But in the end, you were just a toy.
The cook-off. They were partners
He mocked her perfectionism.
Just a plaything. To be played with and forgotten when a new one came along.
The basic straining challenge.
And forgotten you were.
She brought him food in the bait house.
Long ago, you swore you wouldn't let a guy affect you like this.
They raided Chris and Chef's fridge.
Where's your promise now? Where's your dignity?
They threw the most amazing party.
You are an independent woman. No one has this much control over you.
There was good food, too much food.
No one should.
Her breath smelled like puke, but he didn't care.
You were everybody's favorite to win Total Drama Island.
She savored the taste of his lips.
Were.
And she was eliminated that challenge.
You and Duncan were the fan-favorite couple.
The wooden skull.
Were.
She swore she wouldn't forget him.
Move on.
She never did. But he forgot her.
Grow up.
She looks down at the untouched glass of alcohol in front of her and laughs. It carries too much emotion to belong in a bar. It's a quiet laugh, and yet, over the hoots and disgusted whispers surrounding her, brought on by the old Total Drama World Tour reruns, it's the loudest.
She laughs, at him, at the world, at herself.
She laughs as she drains the glass.
She laughs as the bartender refills it.
She laughs as their breakup is replayed on the television.
She laughs as she watches herself be eliminated.
She laughs as the edges of her world turn blurry.
She laughs, because it's the only thing stopping her from crying.
AN: Just re-watched I See London… Sigh. When you feel angst, you write angst. Fact of life. Flames are welcomed; I couldn't care less at this point. And merry . . . whatever you celebrate . . . Uh, let's just go with happy holidays! :]
First draft finished: 11/16/2010
Final draft finished: 11/16/2010
Listened to: "Love the Way You Lie", Eminem and Rihanna
Cometsgirl