Hang
Summary: Her heart is stubborn, still aching for its other half no matter how hard she tries to tell it to let go…
Author's Note: It seems like things just keep getting worse on DOOL in regards to Brady and Chloe, I'm hoping for a happy ending at some point when/if Brady ever returns, but who knows? For now, all I've got is my own ideas, so here is another story! It doesn't follow the current storyline; I started to write this way back in November before I knew the story behind Brady and Chloe's 'divorce.' I was inspired by the song 'Hang' by Matchbox Twenty, which I've decided is probably my most favorite song ever. I hope you enjoy, reviews are most appreciated!
Disclaimer: I don't own them or the song. If I did, things would be much, much different!
They've spent the last hour screaming at each other. Both of them have been yelling hateful, painful words, the kind that cut deep and leave visible scars. Each angry word hangs in the air, destroying everything they worked so hard to build. They've been fighting for the past year, and tonight is the end. Her bags are packed; she can't live like this anymore. She can't keep giving everything and getting nothing. She used to think they were soulmates, and now, she wishes she could erase everything, go back and never fall in love. Tears start to fall before she can stop them, he softens at her tears, and for a second she sees the man she loves. But, she can't go back, and with a soft goodbye, she grabs her bags and walks out the door.
He throws a vase when she leaves, then smashes some pictures, punches at a lamp, kicks a chair, and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He destroys the apartment and drinks himself into oblivion, he doesn't want to wake up, doesn't want to face living without her.
She goes to Salem, the only place that's ever felt like home. She'd go somewhere else if she could face being alone, but she's not that brave. Her parents and sister are moving back, she needs all the support she can get. While it's nice to be back, nice to see familiar faces, she hates the memories that creep up everywhere. She can't go anyplace without seeing his face.
Everyone is surprised about their break-up. She doesn't talk about it much, and after a while, people stop asking. A year goes by, and she thinks she's starting heal. She thinks she can get over the fact that she's missing half of her heart, half of her soul; she believes she can go on living, despite the fact she can't ever be whole without him. She hears through his sister that he's been traveling in Europe, he says he's ok, but she knows ok means he's existing, surviving, just like her.
After a lot of prodding from her well- meaning mother, she goes on a date. He's a nice guy, a doctor, and when he kisses her goodnight she looks into his emerald eyes and tries hard to make herself feel something. They go out a few more times and with each date, she starts to warm up to him a little more. She tells him on their third date that she was married, leaves out the fact that she still technically is, and thinks she might be able to move on. The doctor is nothing like her husband, he's something new. He's the change that she tells herself she wants, even if her heart tells her he's not what she needs. Her heart is stubborn, still aching for its other half no matter how hard she tries to tell it to let go.
She starts to smile more often; she's almost forgotten what it's like to be happy. After much internal debate, she sleeps with her doctor boyfriend after a month. She tries hard to exist in the moment, just be with him, but she can't help that when she looks in his eyes all she can see is blue. He doesn't seem to realize she's in another bed, with another man, and in the afterglow he whispers promises and love. She doesn't respond, just asks him to hold her. When he falls asleep, she muffles her tears in the pure white sheets, staining them with her regrets.
Her husband comes back six months later. She's on a date at Tuscany, wearing a sexy dress. Things have been going so well lately. She feels happy, carefree, and beautiful tonight. She doesn't expect to see him, at all. He's with his family, his arm wrapped around a blonde she's never seen before. Her heart stops, breath catches, she feels like running. She can't be in the same room as him, it's too damn soon. She tells the doctor she doesn't feel well and he takes her home, no questions asked. She sees the disappointment in his eyes when she closes the door, she can't have him touching her, not tonight.
She finds some wine in the fridge and she sits on the kitchen floor, taking several long sips. She doesn't know why he affects her so much, after all this time. As she cries on the floor, she realizes she's not nearly as over it, over him as she though. She falls asleep on her couch that night, tear tracks on her face, still in her fancy dress, clutching that bottle, praying for oblivion.
It's inevitable that they run into each other. He's been in town for a week. She's been avoiding everything and everyone, preferring the company of her bed to the company of people. Her boyfriend has called every day, she hasn't answered, and she doesn't plan on it. She can't see him, not now. She has to go to the store, unfortunately there is nothing edible in her kitchen, and that's where they run right into each other. She stumbles ungracefully, and he reaches a hand to steady her. They don't speak at first, they stare, the memories of their life together blurring together.
His eyes are so blue, and she feels such a painful ache, she's missed him so much. She wants to touch those soft curls at the nape of his neck, she wants to curl up in his arms and sleep forever. But, she does none of these things, simply pulls away from him, needing some distance. They make horribly awkward small talk, and she practically runs away from him. When she makes it back to her apartment, she takes a long shower, trying to erase the feeling of his warm hands against her skin.
He doesn't know how to feel or what to do. He can't keep living without her, not anymore. He's been practically dying this past year, sure he's tried to move on, but oh god, he can't. He can't sleep, not tonight, not after seeing her and touching her. So, he leaves his 'girlfriend' sleeping and goes to the only place he can find some peace.
She's too hot in her apartment, the air is so thick and she can't seem to get comfortable. Throwing on a faded pair of jeans and slipping into some shoes, she grabs her keys and slips out the door, she needs to go to the one place she's always felt so calm, so tranquil.
He's sitting on the pier when she gets there, staring into the water. She feels a painful sense of déjà vu, and she sinks down beside him. They don't talk; words seem so hard these days when it comes to them. She stares out into the water, trying to find something to convey what she's doing, what she's feeling. God, she feels so out of control. When she finally turns to look at him, something inside her snaps, and when he finally meets her eyes, she can't stop herself as she crushes her lips against his. Their kiss is not gentle, tender, or loving. It's aching, possessive, angry, and desperate. She wants him so bad she can't stand it, and they silently agree on her place, as they stumble back toward her apartment, both of them unable to stop touching, needing to be as close as possible.
They don't even make it to her bedroom; they get as far as the couch, unable to take the torture of separation much longer. There is such tenderness in his eyes when he moves inside her, feeling like he's finally come home after a year of wandering aimlessly. She doesn't even try to hold her tears inside, she sobs out an endless chorus of "I love you, Brady," until everything but his face fades away and he pulls her over the edge.
With the urgency of that first moment of reconnection over, he has time to reacquaint himself with the body he knows as well as his own, god, he's missed her. He looks up into her beautiful eyes, still glassy with tears and pleasure as she gives him a soft smile. He touches her lips only briefly, still swollen with the force of their earlier kisses. Her eyes close as his fingers tangle in her messy hair. His lips lightly trace the curve of her jaw, and then move gently down to her neck. He breathes in, smelling that faint scent of strawberries that always seems to linger on her skin, he finally stops his exploration and rests his forehead against her bare shoulder.
"Oh, Chloe, my diva, I love you. I've missed you so much."
He moves up to look in her eyes, feeling more than he's felt in a year, aching with longing to never let her go, to hang on forever.
"I've missed you too."
They silently agree to move to the bedroom and spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets, the ache of being separated slowly lessening with every gasp and cry, every touch, every kiss, every moment of skin on skin.
They don't work everything out that night, in fact the only thing they manage to establish is that they do love each other and they want to make this work. The rest is all a mess of details and fuzzy memories that they don't want to face just then, they don't want to think, they want to simply feel, touch, taste, love.
He leaves in the morning, taking with him every part of her heart and soul, but she knows he'll be back. She knows now everything will be alright. If the last year of separation has taught her anything, it's to trust in their love, in him, in them.
She calls the doctor and tells him she needs to meet him as soon as possible. She spends half an hour in the shower after the call, imagining Brady's hands on her skin, his smile against her neck. She's giddy and flushed with desire, aching for her husband when she gets out, but she can't give into such temptations. She needs to end things with her boyfriend, she and Brady need to start over with a clean slate.
She breaks it off with the doctor rather easily, he's obviously hurt, but he isn't blind. Even though he never knew she was still married he knew she's never belonged to him. They don't talk long, it's over before she knows it, not that she's been focusing too well anyway. Brady is at Dotcom too, giving her a look that practically melts the ice in her drink with its intensity. He's with that blonde from that night at Tuscany, and by the fact that she leaves crying, he's obviously broken up with her too. She feels that familiar flutter in her heart when he comes to her table and reaches for her hand, a soft smile gracing his face when he looks at his beautiful wife. They are free, nobody standing in the way of their happiness. They can be husband and wife, Brady and Chloe, just like they've always been meant to be.
They barely make it to the sidewalk before he kisses her passionately, unable to control the love and longing he feels for her. She smiles against his lips, feeling so happy she can hardly stand it. Later on when they are wrapped around each other in the darkness of night, whispers of love and hope and forever echo in the silence. They make a vow to each other to trust in their love, not to give up, and work through the bad together. With faith, hope, and love, they can face anything.