I'll Bring The Band-Aids.
Disclaimer: Don't own Bebop or characters.
Reviews: Please
One/One.
"What do you believe in?" it comes out kind of condescending, his eyes on his bound feet as he leans backwards onto the kitchen counter. A cigarette somehow sticks out of the side of his mouth as he speaks, hands in pockets. Cowboy boy style.
Not like Julia who keeps hers between her index and middle, taking light puffs of it. She reminds him of those girls in those old cigarette commercials. They live the perfect life, have the perfect boyfriend, the perfect family and jet set around at will. They fail to tell you about lung cancer, mouth cancer and...dying. Yeah, an accurate assumption of Julia alright.
"Duct tape," she speaks between tears. He can see them when a car passes and the wind hits the flowing curtains just right, allowing in the translucent cylinders of moonlight into their small hapless corner of the universe.
He likes her answer better than his and immediately begins to loose his condescending tone.
"You know how when you were a kid?" she continues on with those light puffs, intermixing smoke with her taut words, "everything could be fixed with duct tape, band aids and super glue?" super glue comes out the most acrimonious, and he tries to pretend like he's following along although he's never had a childhood to look to for reference.
Spike knows she hates him. He knows some other things though. He likes his name better when she says it. Screams it. He likes her hair better when its inextricably twined in between his fingers. He hates though, finding her in his apartment kitchen with her clothes hurriedly thrown on. "I was grabbing my purse," never broke his heart so much. And, "I need to take a walk," never sounded like such a lie.
"I believe that you don't believe that," and his voice sounded tiny. It's merely another expendable commodity in their tiny world. I believe that you don't believe you want to leave me. Please don't leave me. Was written all over it.
"Please, Spike? Belief? Come on we're grown ups here," suddenly her voice seems to be rather similar to a million tiny, acid-tipped, hooks, all rushing in for their grateful spot on his bare chest, still exposed.
And that brings us back to square one. "What do you believe in?" in that condescending way of his.
As if she can't have anything worth believing in. It's funny though, because just like everything else Julia does she does it perfect. Makes him believe in that old wonderland she speaks of. Childhood. The one that he never had and will never have.
He takes another blows out another puff of smoke and chooses his words carefully because she's not the only one that's realized that they don't have anything more to say to each other. "It's funny because I believe in the exact opposite. Breaking the rules. Breaking every little pretty artifact away in my life until there's nothing left," his eyes slowly rise to hers. She knows what he's really saying. 'I'm going to break you. Get out now.' Yet she knows he doesn't want her gone and she knows no matter what her conscious is saying she doesn't want to leave.
"Hey," her voice is perky now. In that kind of meaningless-small-talk way, ""what can go wrong as long as I'm right behind you with my handy-dandy duct tape?" and then it turns back to Yes-I'm-Aware-Everything-I'm-Saying-Is-A-Lie tone. She takes another puff.
"Deal," he stretches out his long frame, trying not to notice the twitches in her curvy body every time a car passes, "you bring the duct tape and I'll bring the band aids," and now he's smiling that stupid smile that he smiles every time he knows he's just screwed up. He's smiling it all the way back to the bedroom even when he realizes she's not following him.
Yet he can still hear the one thing he doesn't want to hear. Her low, hapless voice making out a small, taut resonance of "deal,"
AN... I worked really hard on this and became overly anxious while posting it so please, please, please if you read, review! Gracias!
