So here's a one-shot/song-fic I wrote in three days. I hope to the few people that read this it isn't thatbad. Let's see, it takes place after So Random! and Mackenzie Falls end. (So they're older now.) Um, it's in Sonny's POV. And everyone's a little OOC. Anyway . . . read on! :)
Dedication: This goes out to my dear friend Elmo. (Elmo, Zoe had a lot of fun emailing Oscar. ;D)
Warning: Rated "T" for language and sexual content.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
God, what can someone want at 2-in-the-morning? (Not that I'm asleep or anything . . .)
I roll over and answer. "Hello?" I ask into the phone.
"Sonny?" I hear Tawni's voice say.
"Yes," I mumble. Why is she calling me this time?
"Oh, good."
"Yeah, good," I mumble sarcastically. "Tawni, it is 2-in-thing-morning. Can't a girl get some sleep?"
"Well, I can't."
Well, neither can I, especially when someone calls me at this hour of the night.
"Why not?"
"Because . . . you know . . ."
"Actually, I have no idea what's going on."
"Come on, Sonny. You know what I'm talking about!"
"If it's about your boyfriend—"
"Fiancé, now."
"Fiancé?" I repeat like I never heard that word.
"Yes. Here's the thing. I said 'yes,' but I don't know if it's the right choice. I mean, you know how he is."
"How am I supposed to know? He's my ex-boyfriend, remember?"
She sighs. "Sonny, you know how torn up he's been since you left him. All he does is drink and try to remember when we all worked at Condor Studios. . . . He misses you."
"Then why are you dating him, huh? Why? Why did you steal my boyfriend?"
"It isn't stealing if you already broke up with him!"
There's silence. True, I did break up with him, but still. To me it feels like stealing. I guess I'm being overprotective.
After awhile Tawni says, "Here's the thing: I don't love him."
"Then why are you dating him?"
"Because he's lonely . . . and, well, a little horny," she admits bashfully.
"You're sleeping with him?" I ask.
"Yeah. And you didn't? Wow. . . . Girl, you don't know what you're missing out on. I mean—"
"I don't want to here what he's like in bed, okay? He's my ex-boyfriend. I haven't even talked to him since the break up."
"I'd rather not talk on the phone . . ."
"Why not?"
"Because a certain someone is waking up . . ."
"All right, then. Where do you want to meet?"
"Meet me at Denny's in five," says Tawni, and hangs up. Fabulous.
Yeah, we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason
I see Tawni standing outside Denny's.
"Hi," she greets me, smiling. Wow, she's chipper for almost 2:30 AM.
"Hi," I say, annoyed.
"What's the matter?"
"It's two in the morning. Most people like to get some sleep."
"You always tell me you can't sleep."
She's right, of course. I'm not a sound sleeper.
"What do you want, Tawni?" I walk through the door. The waitress who greets us looks half dead. And she walks that way when she shows our booth.
"I want to tell you about Chad," says Tawni, taking a seat.
I sit across from her and say, "I don't want to know."
"But you need to know!"
"Why?"
"Because . . . because maybe you can help him—us—I don't know."
I don't want to help Chad and Tawni get together. Jeez. I know she's had enough boyfriends to know you can't be friends after you break up.
"Why don't you tell me the problem at hand?"
"I don't where to start . . ."
"How your relationship started?"
"Okay! We first met on the set—"
"Not when you were kids. I meant recently."
"Oh, okay," and then she starts on this long story. From her babbling I hear, "met at party," and "asked me out," and "me or else hookers," and "I don't love him. I never did and never will."
"So why are you marrying him?"
"I told you! It's either he sleeps with someone who actually cares—a little, at least—or some slut."
"Sleeping with someone you don't love is like a slut!"
"But I'm not a slut! I'm too pretty. And I'm sorry that you're too much of a prude to have slept with him.
I glare at her, tears streaming down my face. I'm here, trying to help her, but she calls me a prude. Well, calling her a slut is almost as bad.
"I have to go," I say, getting up.
"Wait, Sonny," Tawni calls after me. "Could you at least try and call Chad? I mean, he misses you a lot and is dying to see you!"
"Goodbye," I mumble, walking out the door.
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl
So cradle your head in your hands
The next day . . . well, this same morning, Tawni calls saying that she's really sorry and that we should talk. She was rambling that life's to short and you can't have a fight like this, blah, blah, blah. It's a pretty boring conversation. The only thing she says to do is call Chad and set a lunch date.
As I press the end button, I realize I can't change the past, but at least I can try to make it better.
And breathe, just breathe
Oh, breathe, just breathe
So, here I am, calling Chad. I'm waiting and waiting and waiting for him to pick up when I hear, "Hello?"
Oh, God . . . what am I going to say?
I take a deep breath and say, "Hi, Chad. It's Sonny—Sonny Munroe."
May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist
"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year"
I watch him intently. He obviously isn't talk, so I start by saying, "Hey, Chad, how is it going?"
"Fine," he says, and still doesn't say anything.
This is rather odd. I mean, Tawni said he's been dying to see me. Maybe it's just her twisted way of trying to get us back together.
"I heard you hit the big two-one in March. That's cool."
"It's just a day." He takes the flask from under the table and drinks from it.
"What's in there?"
"What do you think?"
"Orange juice?"
"Please. What am I? Twelve? Seriously, Sonny, I haven't been sober since I was eighteen. Now tell me what you think it is."
"Some type of alcohol . . . ?"
"Bingo. Though I actually don't know what kind it is . . ."
"So you're drinking whatever you could find in the fridge? I should totally call the cops on you."
"But you won't."
"Says who?"
"Says anyone who knows you. You won't call the police on your friends."
I sigh because I know he's right. And now he knows that he's right. (I can tell by the smug smirk on his face.) "Fine, maybe I wouldn't. But you have to stop. Chad, I hate to say this, but you look like shit."
"Tell me something I don't know." He takes another swig.
"Here's another thing: Why are you like this? You used to be the most sought after actor and now nobody wants you!"
"It's kind of like Amy Winehouse. You know how she used to be in the public eye so much, but then it just stopped? That's me. I used to be the paparazzo's main subject, but now they can care less." He hesitates a moment, then adds, "Kind of like you. You remember how you were the talk of the town and then you stopped? We're alike, you know."
"Of course we are!" I say sarcastically. "I'm drunk all the time and can care less about the world!"
"You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Yes. You know why? Because this whole thing you have going ought to stop."
"What whole thing? I'm happy, actually. I'm perfect. My world is great and wonderful."
"Really?" I look at him doubtfully.
"No . . . it's not."
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him
Maybe I'll just sing about it
It's been a while since that first conversation with Chad. We had many fights as I helped him. Gotten better, I suppose. But it still isn't the same boy I dated.
He's rather miserable without his booze, but when he's happy I smile. Oh, and his smile. . . . Oh, God! That smile of his. It makes me melt inside. He's the handsomest man I ever lay eyes on. Seriously.
I want hug him and kiss him and ask him to take me back, but that's not happening.
Maybe I'll do what other girl do when they're upset. I'll write a song.
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, boys
So cradle your head in your hands
After Chad's starting to getting clean, we get together and tell what's been going on. He said he's gotten a few parts in movies and offered to be on some TV cop drama.
I, on the other hand, have not had the same luck.
At one of our "sessions" he starts by saying, "I wish I could start over."
"What?" I ask.
"You know, change my life. Do things that I wish I hadn't."
"Like . . ."
"Not be such a fuck up. Not cheat on you. Not waste my life. Not fall in love with Tawni . . ." Chad mumbles the last part.
"Wait, you're in love with Tawni?" I swear I'd rather get stabbed then hear that again.
"Yeah. After I got my life back together again, Tawni approached me and asked me out. Now we've been going on dates. And I think I fell for her."
"That's—that's great. I'm so happy for you," I lie smoothly.
"So the engagement's back on."
"And when are you getting married?"
"Probably this summer."
No. He can't. No, no, no! He just . . . just can't. I just thought maybe he'd want to be with me after all we've been through.
I say, "Okay, then. See you at the wedding," and leave.
And breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe
I crawl into bed and cover my head with the sheets. I'm bawling. He's not supposed to be in love with Tawni. He's supposed to love me. I'm the girl he always liked. Even when we were teens he loved me. Tawni was never in the picture until now.
I can imagine the whole wedding. Oh, my God, knowing Tawni (she comes from money) and Chad (he comes from money, also) the wedding would be huge. HUGE! You know the big white weddings that everyone always dreams of? Yeah, that one. Tawni would look gorgeous. Chad would look handsome. And they would ask me to be a bride's maid, I know. But I don't think I would accept. I mean, I'm going be a bride's maid for someone I love. Knowing me, I'd probably scream out, "I don't approve of this marriage," and don't live happily-ever-after. Cause Tawni and Chad would probably kill me for ruining their wedding—literally. (And they would get charged with first degree murder and stuff—if they got caught, of course.)
I hear some noise from the living room. Oh, great, it's probably some robber who will take my stuff, rape me, and then murder me. But that's okay. I don't want to deal with this pain much longer. So I call out, "If it's some robber trying to steal my stuff and kill me, do it now. Or else identify yourself." I hear a throaty chuckle in return. Okay, maybe I don't want to get killed. I close my eyes as the foot steps come closer.
"Hey," Chad's voice says. I slowly peek out from under the covers and see him. He smiles. "Hi."
"Hi," I mumble. He saunters over to me and sits at my bed.
"So . . ."
"So . . ."
"You left the restaurant without ordering anything. I think something's wrong." Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious.
"Nothings wrong. Why would anything be wrong? I wasn't hungry at all when I came. I was just the opposite, actually," I lie unconvincingly.
"From what I remember, you said, 'Oh, my God, there are so many good things it's making me hungrier then I already am,'" he quoted. "Remember?"
"Yeah. . . . But I got a cheeseburger and fries on the way home!"
"Yummy! I had nothing."
"Don't expect me to make you anything."
He laughs. "I wasn't."
"Sure, you weren't."
"Oh, babe . . . ," he says, and places a hand on my leg.
"What? I am not your babe. I haven't been in years. Get off me."
"I'm not on you. If I was on you in would be like this," and he crawls over me. Oh, God. What is he planning?
"If you want to kiss someone, go find Tawni. I'm sure she'd love it," I say.
"Who says I want to kiss you?"
"I say."
"Well, you're wrong."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want a lot more then a kiss."
"Oh, my God! I can't fucking believe you! The only thing you ever wanted me for was sex. Don't think you're getting any, either. I'm virgin and I plan on staying that way."
"You're a virgin? Come on. That's not funny. It's just a lame excuse not to have sex with me."
"It's true!"
He looks down at me. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"No, I'm not," I tell him bashfully.
"I could change that." He starts to lean down and kiss me when I push him away.
"Get out. Please? You're disgusting—absolutely disgusting."
"Oh, Sonny, come on. You know you want it."
"I don't want it!"
"I know you do."
"No—" I can't finish because he cuts me off with his lips. His very sexy lips, that is. The kiss is soft yet forceful, sweet yet sexy, and making me loose my mind with want. My hormones are raging out-of-control. I want him to stop, but I can't do it. This is just to addicting.
I soon move my hand from his hair to unbuttoning his shirt. He stops kissing me and makes eye contact.
"Wait, are you sure you want this. I don't want to . . ."
"I'm sure I want it," I say sexily. He smirks and takes off his shirt. And I bet you know the rest.
There's a light at each end of this tunnel
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around
Let's start by saying: I'm not a virgin anymore. Yeah, it's true. I gave it up . . . to Chad . . . yesterday.
Oh, I'll always remember yesterday. After we were . . . finished, he sat up and told me to come to his house. Why, you may ask. He told me (and these are his EXACT words), "My house has a bigger bed."
So, maybe this wasn't such a bad day, after all. I mean, he obviously wanted to spend more time . . . in bed . . . with me. Yes, me! I'm blushing. I can feel myself blushing.
I close my eyes again when I hear Chad speak. "Sonny, are you awake yet?" he asks.
"Yes," I murmur, opening my eyes.
"Oh, good, 'cause I'm sick up spooning, I'd rather do forking."
"Forking?" I ask. "What's that?"
"Google it," he says, and kisses me. I smile. But I soon find myself frowning.
"What are you—we—going to do about Tawni?" I ask quietly.
He stops looking at me and lies down next to me.
"I don't know yet . . . ," he mumbles.
"What do you mean? You have to have some sort of plan?"
"I guess I'm still going to marry her."
"Oh, my God. . . . This is bad as the movie Thirteen Going on Thirty!" I jump out of bed and get dressed. All the while I hear, "Come on, Sonny. I wasn't the one looking for sex! You were the one who started it! All I wanted to do was come over to say I'm sorry . . ."
". . . but one thing led together another and we slept together. Is that what you were going to say?" I say over my shoulder.
"Yeah, something like—"
I open the door and look back once. "Goodbye, Chad. Have a great life."
"But, Sonny—"
I don't hear the rest. I'm already out the door.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me
Threatening the life it belongs to
It's 2 AM again. I'm writing a song in my parents' house. You see, after I left Sex-Hungry Asshole's house, I packed a suit case, locked my apartment, and caught a midnight train to Georgia—I mean, plane to Wisconsin. My mom could believe what I told her. She was a little upset about the whole virginity thing. I suppose she guessed it was going to happen sooner or later . . . but she hoped later.
I hear a knock at the door as I'm pacing around the room.
"Come in!" I say.
The door opens and it's my mother. Great. "Sonny, do you mind telling me what you're doing at two-in-the-morning?" she asks.
"I'm writing a song," I say proudly. I have no idea why I'm so proud, but I don't care.
"About what?"
"My life."
"Really? It's about YOUR life. Are you sure it's not about Chad and Tawni and you? This is why you shouldn't have tried to help. I know you. And I knew that you'd fall for him. It's never good to get involved in a love triangle."
"Mom! Why are you taking the jerk's side?"
"I'm not. But what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't expect him to love you again. This isn't the movies. This is the real life. And in real life there isn't 'happily ever afters,'" she says, walking out of my room.
"Sorry, Mom," I say sarcastically. "I'm so sorry that you and your high-school sweetheart didn't work out. I guess it's too bad that you had to marry Dad."
"Allison! Don't bring my life into this."
"Do you regret marrying Dad? Do you regret giving Jenna up for adoption? Or shall I say, giving the baby to Grandma and Grandpa to take care of. Then after they died, you had to take care of her. But you said it was my aunt."
"How did you find out . . .?"
"Mom, I'm not an idiot. Look at Jenna and I. We look like sisters. Wait, because we are sisters."
"I made a big mistake when I was in high-school. I accidentally had a kid with a boy who was going to die. I don't know why I did. . . ."
"It all makes sense now that I think about it. You told me to stay abstinent from sex so I didn't make the same mistakes as you."
"Yes, I did. And what did you do? You didn't listen. You went off and did it with that . . . loser you call an ex-lover!"
"Go away, Mom. I don't want to see you."
"Fine," and then she walks out.
"Fine," I mumble to myself, and fall asleep.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
I look around the rehearsal dinner, seeing all the people. I know my big moment's coming up. When I finally told Chad how I feel. Scary, I know. But at least it's a song and it doesn't have his name in it. (Yeah, like I would be that stupid. Well, I am stupid for falling back in love with him . . .)
Then I hear the intro. Oh, God. Here it is. I look around the room. People seem to enjoy it—so far.
Even some people come up to me and say, "This is fabulous." But I don't care. I only want to see Chad's reaction.
I walk slowly to the table and see him. We make eye contacted and he looks down (just like the movies when the love interest knew he did something wrong). He knows this song is about him. I turn around and smirk. I start walking away when I feel someone grab my arm and hiss, "Follow me," and see Tawni looking livid. Great.
The balcony (that's where Tawni's taking me) is the best place at the hotel. It is open and as a great view of L.A. And you can't hear the other people's conversation.
She stops. I don't want to listen to this. "I cannot believe you," says Tawni.
"What?"
"You know what."
"Truly, I don't."
"Please stop that. I know what you're trying to do. I should have noticed it before, of course, but I guess I was just that stupid." She rubs her temples. "I invited you because I thought you were my friend. I let you plan it because I trusted you and know you're good at it. But I guess I was wrong. You picked orange for the table cloth! I don't like orange. My color scheme was pink! But you choose orange? Ew! What the hell? Oh, and the music. Don't get me started on THAT. It was all about people who lost their lovers. You had Ke$ha on your play list. KE$HA! She's all about sex, drugs, partying, and alcohol! I can't have that at MY wedding. Oh, and you cannot forget your little song. It doesn't take an idiot to know it's about James."
"James?" I ask.
"Duh! He's so old news. Get over him."
Wow. She thought it was James? James, the guy I went on a date when I was 15!
"I always knew you were jealous of me," she says, walking away. She pauses and adds, "By the way, you're not invited to my wedding anymore," and then struts away.
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand
So I bet Tawni's wedding is about to start. I lost Chad. I lost my best friend. I suppose my mom was right. There aren't "happily ever afters" in life, only heartaches and heartbreaks.
I'm watching a bunch of movies I picked out. They're all chick-flicks, but I don't care.
I hear a knock at the door. I groan and go to answer it.
I open the door and see Chad standing there.
"Oh, my God, I'm hallucinating!" I scream, closing the door.
He opens the door and asks, "You're what?"
"Hallucinating! I'm hallucinating! I've gone crazy." I start pacing in my living room and my phantasm of Chad is there, looking at me like I've gone crazy.
"Why would you be hallucinating?" he asks slowly.
"Isn't it obvious? You're supposed to be at the wedding! Since I'm so in love with you, I'm imaging that you're here with me."
"Well, if you're hallucinating . . . I am, too."
"Stop it!"
Chad walks over and starts to kiss me. Okay, so maybe this isn't a hallucination. I can tell because of those lovely tasting lips of his. And his tight grip around my limp body. It's kind of like the scene in Gone with the Wind—I'm Scarlett and Chad's Rhett—where Rhett kisses Scarlett and she goes limp, just like that. Only I think Chad is way hotter (and cockier) then Rhett Butler. He pulls away and whispers, "Are you still hallucinating?"
"N-n-no . . . ," I murmur.
"Good."
Oh, no, he didn't.
"Good."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"I'm sorry."
Huh? "For what? Why are you sorry?"
"Don't be a fool, Sonny. Why do you think?"
"You've been a totally ass by having sex with me and then leaving to go with your ex-fiancée."
"Yeah . . ." He hesitates a moment. "I've always loved you. And I shouldn't have cheated on you. And I shouldn't have almost-married Tawni."
"I've loved you, too. But are we going to do?"
"About what?"
"About Tawni and the press and our families . . ."
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
I smile and he smiles. I guess there are happily ever afters.
And breathe, just breathe
Whoa breathe, just breathe
Oh, breathe, just breathe
Oh, breathe, just breathe
Breathe (2AM) by Anna Nalick
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