This is the product of a rainy morning, and a need for angst. Song and lyrics are by the band Lady Antebellum. It's Lilly and Scotty of course, although it hints at something between them, there's nothing explicit.
Disclaimer: It's raining outside. I own a depressed mood and a love for writing. That is the extent of it.
I Run To You
Sometimes she wakes up screaming. Sometimes she wakes up crying. Sometimes she wakes up from the shock of a three foot fall from her bed. Sometimes she just wakes up breathless, covered in a layer of cold sweat.
Lilly doesn't wonder why this happens anymore. There are too many reasons, too many problems, too much pain. Her mother, her father, her sister, her ex-boyfriends, her ex-fiancé, her job, her brushes with death, her friends' brushes with death.
It doesn't matter why anymore.
Every time she does the same thing.
Run.
Literally run.
She throws on whatever clothes she can reach, a pair of sneakers, and then she's out there. On the streets. Until the emotional ache is buried by the physical. She knows it isn't safe. It's the ungodly hours between midnight and dawn. It's safer than it is inside her mind.
I run from hate. I run from pessimists, I run from prejudice. But I run too late.
She doesn't bother with earphones or music. She wants to hear her labored breathing, feel her aching calves, experience the dizziness that comes from running on an empty stomach. It means she's alive. Alive is good.
She ends up on his street.
Again. Always.
For a second she wonders why her feet carry her here. Decides it doesn't matter. Leans on her knees at the end of the street. Not tired enough. Hasn't forgotten yet. Keeps running.
It starts to rain, she picks up her pace. Soon there will be nothing left but a torrent of breath, and achy limbs. She wonders if she's disappeared and kind of hopes she did. If she holds up her hand in front of her face, she wonders if she'll see it. Doesn't try.
Soon she's knocking on his door.
Again. Always.
By this time she's exhausted, barely staying upright, soaked to the skin. She knows he'll let her in. She wonders if he'll be angry, confused, worried, like he was the first time. She wonders if they'll get into a fight, if he'll yell at her for doing this again, when she promised she would stop.
"You're scarin' the crap outta me Lil. What's wrong?"
"I just need a place to crash Scotty."
He doesn't ask anymore. They don't fight, or yell anymore. They're both used to it. She wonders if the moisture on her face is from the rain or something deeper within herself.
I run my life, or is it running me? Run from my past. I run too fast, or too slow it seems.
When he sees her at the door, he doesn't pretend to be surprised. Just opens the door and lets her walk in, taking no notice of the wet, clinging blond hair, puffy red eyes, and drenched clothing. She walks silently toward his bathroom, and he rummages around for some dry clothes for her.
A few minutes later the water starts to run and he sits outside the bathroom door. Like always, the soft sobs start, muffled by the running water. Scotty remembers the first time this happened.
"Lil! LILLY! Are you okay? I'm comin' in there. Get away from the door."
He doesn't try to break down the door anymore. He knows that this is her safe place. The place she can cry, away from the prying eyes of others, but with someone who will pull her from the edge if she gets too close. He gives that much to her.
He waits until the water stops running. Sometimes he has to go in and carry her out. Sometimes she walks out on her own. Either way she gets into his bed and he goes into the living room. He collapses on the couch, taking a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Doesn't bother to turn off the light. Doesn't bother to make himself up a bed.
It won't be two hours before she needs him.
Again. Always.
He hears the tossing and turning before the screaming, or crying, starts. He goes into the room, sees her tiny body entangled in the sheets. He gets into bed with her, presses his chest against her back and locks his arms in front of her stomach. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't kiss her like he wants to. He used to try and wake her up, thinking that would help her. Now he just lies there with her.
"Lil. It's just a dream . Wake up, you're safe!"
He doesn't try to wake her up. Soon the frantic breathing will slow to even breaths. Pounding heart beat will soften. Tense body will go slack as she acquiesces to sleep. He won't be far behind her as the exhaustion catches up.
In the moment between falling asleep and being awake, both of them will share the same fantasy. He's holding her because everything's alright and he just wants her, not because she'll have a nightmare if he leaves. She's lying in his arms because it makes her happy and she just wants him, not because she wound up here with nowhere else to go.
This world keeps spinning faster, into a new disaster. So I run to you. I run to you baby. And when it all starts coming undone, baby you're the only one I run to. I run to you.
When he wakes up the next morning, she won't be here. She's never there in the morning. The first day, she left a note, trying to explain, make excuses, apologize. She doesn't do that anymore. There's nothing she can say that will soothe the hurt she knows he'll feel when he wakes up without her. Whatever she writes, it would just be paper and ink.
When he sees her at work the next morning, he'll greet her as though nothing happened.
"Mornin' Rush."
"Hey there Valens."
She'll respond the same way. Just two coworkers.
Until the next time she's knocking on his door. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe she'll go on a good streak and it won't be until next week. Either way, she'll be back again and he'll hold her again and they'll go on pretending it didn't happen.
Again. Always.
A full circle. Because that's what happens when you run to nowhere in particular. Pain. Run. Comfort. Avoidance.
Again. Always.
Until one of them decides to break the circle. One look at Lilly will tell him that she won't be the one. One look at Scotty will tell her he wants desperately to do something, but that he's not ready. Neither of them are ready. To tear up the rule book. To admit what's been coming for years. To live any other way
We run on fumes. Your life and mine, like the sands of time. Slipping right on through.
I know, pretty OOC for both of them. Again, just a random thing from my mind. Please leave me a little comment. :)