A/N: I have no idea why I'm writing this. I just love Lisa Loeb songs, and I felt this one might write well into a song-fic. I'll have a go, though it might turn out really bad. Well, read it anyway, send a review, and tell me what you think.
The wonderful disclaimer of doom: I own nothing, because I am a stingy bugger and have no money. So don't sue, or you'll get that car right over there thrown at you. Lisa Loeb owns the song (Falling in Love) and Jhonen Vasquez owns the characters, and would most likely scream like a girl if he read this. The horror, the horror.
It wasn't Devi's fault she had felt this way. Sometimes she wished there was a switch on the back of her neck, which she could flick, and all her emotions, feelings, everything she ever felt or thought would fizzle to a halt when she turned the switch off. That way, she would at least be free from all the emotions that flew around inside of her. Instead, she was curled up into a ball on a park bench, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hands folded on top of one another, her chin resting in an uncomfortable position on her knees. She always hated her knees. They were so bony. It was just another part of her she hated. So many things she hated. She also hated the word 'hate'. So strong… So strong… Just like her emotions.
She wanted to be a cowboy,
She was shootin' em down,
She was tramping around.
Closing her bright green eyes, she refused to look up at the sky, the sun blazing up in the clear like it was God himself. Drawing in a deep breath, strands of her fading, purple-dyed hair falling in front of her face. She would have to buy some hair dye when she started home again. Tenna had finally managed to convince Devi to come out. She had to admit it was a lovely day. But she didn't want Tenna with her. Devi wasn't in the mood for company, particularly from someone with such a lively character. So emotional. Someone who wasn't afraid to feel. Devi wasn't afraid to feel. She just didn't want to. So many emotions flowing through her at the time. It was, in a way, her own fault. She wanted to date someone who would put an end to all her horrible dates. Or maybe she just wanted someone to love, to hold her tight, and make her feel safe forever. And she almost had that. But in the end, it was just another statistic in her record of bad dates.
He walked in crooked with the clear blue eyes.
"There's a nice pool in my motel - you want to go for a swim?"
That night he moved in.
Nuzzling her head into her knees, her body gave a shake as she suppressed a sob. Devi was never the one for depression, never the one to cry. She almost laughed when one of her first boyfriends had died in a car crash with a mongoose. She should have taken it as a warning sign. She had started with death, and she almost ended with death. But Devi, ignorant, had shrugged it away. But Jonathan… Johnny… John… Nny. He seemed different. Scrawny, with wild hair, but different. He had nice eyes. They seemed so full of emotion, even when he came in with a bad mood, and would only shrug when she spoke to him, or give one-syllable responses. He always apologized later, though. He always apologized. Always gave something of a reason. Often it was the fault of someone he called Mister Eff, or D-Boy. Devi just guessed they were friends of his or work mates. He never spoke of his job, however, and at one point he had told her that he had no friends. Devi never forgot their conversations, and never did Johnny. He often seemed distant, though. His head in the clouds.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
Lifting her head, Devi drew in a deep breath and looked towards the clouds. Yes, Johnny always had his head in the clouds. It was only later that Devi realised that they were storm clouds. It was almost too late by then. She could still remember the feel of his breath upon her lips, his hand just inches from hers. He never touched her though. One time she had grabbed his hand for no particular reason, and he had acted in such a strange way. He had jerked away, his eyes wide. He seemed to be angry… and frightened. He told her bluntly not to do that again, and Devi, surprised, could only nod. Devi wondered why he hated being touched. She still wondered why. She was still scared of him. She was also scared she would fall back in love with them. Or fall further into love with him. She had to force herself to stop lusting after him. He was a murderer… Murderer… Maybe it was the danger that lured her to him. Most of her dates had been dangerous. She was almost raped and killed. She almost had her brain sucked from her head. She almost had her ankles gnawed by a torso. And almost stabbed. But Johnny was sincere with his emotions. So sincere… In the end it was obvious he felt the same for her. Maybe he still felt the same now.
At night she'd wait for the sound of his feet on the doormat,
The sound of his hand on the doorknob,
The sound of her heart beating in her head.
He'd go out playing nickel slots cause he knew he'd lose
She didn't know, so she couldn't choose.
What would have she done if she found he had killed before, and more than likely kill again? Devi knew the answer; run away, run far, far away. Maybe she would have stopped feeling then. She had touched a killer. Blood would have been on his hands. Other peoples blood. So many peoples blood. It was amazing he could still feel. Feel so many things. When she had touched his hand, they had been so smooth. She could feel almost every single bone beneath the skin. Would Johnny have touched bones? Probably. Devi wondered idly what they would feel like. Not that she would want to touch one. Devi gave another choked sob, keeping her had on her knees. She couldn't help it, she felt so strongly for him. He had forced her to stay inside for the longest time. And in a way, he had forced her to go outside. Deep down inside of her, in a place that she didn't even know she had, she knew she wanted to see him. She didn't tell Tenna though. No. She didn't. Couldn't. She didn't even want to think about herself. It was crazy. Why would she want to see a deranged murderer? He wanted to kill her to… to immortalize the moment. The moment they almost expressed their love for one another. The moment they were both purely happy. In a way, it was romantic. Almost romantic. Just like the way she would expectantly for the sound of tinkling bells as the door opened at the bookstore she used to work at, and the sound of steel-tipped boots to come thudding into the store. He always browsed through the books, first. Mainly science fiction and drama. Occasionally fantasy. He would rarely purchase one. Devi always kept an eye on him. She wasn't afraid he would steal anything. She was just interested in him. And about fifteen minutes later, he would walk over to her, and would always start the conversation with asking her how she was. It was always very casual. He never seemed to try and seem suave. It was that which attracted Devi to him. To a murderer, who most likely killed in cold blood.
But one night while sleeping alone in her bed,
The phone rang, she woke up, and sat up and said,
"What time is it? What time is it?"
Johnny usually came in every second or third day. One time he didn't come in for a week, and Devi almost fretted that something had happened. When he returned, he went through his usual routine, and asked how she was. Devi told him how worried she was about to him. It turned out he had fallen asleep, and was extremely moody. He didn't want anyone to see him like that. It was then she learned he was an insomniac. She wasn't surprised- he always had dark circles underneath his eyes, and he said once he had a strong dislike for sleeping. Strong dislike was so much nicer than hate. Johnny always had a strong opinion of mostly anything. He was against the destruction of forests, and the killing of animals, and he was for republicans and, oddly, he was for euthanasia. Devi found that odd when he said that. He simply told her if people are suffering, why shouldn't they be put out of their misery? Devi then asked him about suicide. He was very quiet then. Very quiet. He finally told her, that it is like euthanasia. If people are suffering, then they should be allowed out of their misery. It's their life. People who commit suicide have lost all their pain-coping skills, and have lost that rock which keeps them hanging in place. Once that rock is gone, they either climb back up and find another rock, or free fall all the way down, grasping for rocks to keep them in place until they climb back up, or land on the sharp rocks below- which is suicide. He then left the store, and Devi suspected he was free falling down as he described it. When he returned, she gave him her phone number, and to ring him sometime. He usually rang at night. It was rare he rang, but when he did, she loved it. His phone calls were like chocolate- sweet and addictive. Later, he gave her his own. He seemed reluctant, but did so, anyway.
"Well it's 5:30 here and it's 2:30 there,
And I won't be home tonight, " he said.
Devi was still curled into a ball on the park bench, people either saying hello to her or giving her a side-ways glance. None of them were Johnny. What would she do if they saw one another? Would she say hello or scream. Devi figured the latter. She wanted to do the former, but she wouldn't. Couldn't. Shouldn't. Turning her head to the side, her hair falling across her legs, she rested her cheek on the rough material of her jeans. Tenna had bought them for her. Such a sweet girl. Johnny was sweet, too. He had bought her several tins of paint when he told her she wanted to be an artist. Green, purple, blue, black and red. They were the colours of the paints he had bought her. She couldn't help but giggle when he brought them in. They were quite heavy actually, and Devi was surprised he could lift them. She never judged on appearances- never judged a book by its cover. Maybe it was her fault. Or maybe it wasn't. If she judged Johnny by the way he looked, she would have laughed, made fun of him. But she didn't, because it wasn't her. She guessed that it saved her life. So did the self-defense lessons she had to take in grade school. The only reason she nearly didn't survive was when she had asked him out. She didn't ask him on a date. That seemed to forward for her likes. But the expression the crossed Johnny's face… well, Devi could almost giggle. He had become somewhat self-conscious. But he had agreed to go out with her. They decided to see a movie. He explained he didn't each much- not that Devi had to know. He was always extremely slim. Almost anorexic. But he suited the overly slim build. Or maybe she was just used to it. She had grown used to falling in love with him. The way her heart fluttered when the bells rang when the door opened, and the sound of his boots on the ground. It always took her a moment to calm down when he spoke to her. Her boss had noticed the way she always acted when he came in. He had finally told her to ask him on a date. She had refused for about three weeks, before buckling and asking him. That was her downfall. That was almost the last time she saw the sun set. That was almost the last time she drove in a car. That was almost the last time she sat down. He was almost the last person she would see.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
And now she longed for him. The next day, he would have been the last person on her list of people to see. He wouldn't have been on the list at all. But the moment she saw him at her work… She began to fall in love with him once again. Devi was never a fan of romance novels. Always so full of mush and disgustingly sappy ends. But Devi ended up reading one whilst working and no one was in the store. Her boos caught her reading it, and Devi had almost been so flustered that she dropped it. Her boss had picked it up and laughed when he saw it was Mills and Boon. Devi called in sick the next day, for several reasons. She didn't want to face her boss, and she had begun to realize she was back in love with Johnny. She had to be sick. She had to be. It wasn't normal to be in love with a murderer. But, like chocolate, like his phone calls, he was sweet and addictive.
Now she sits in a booth in a diner,
Waiting for someone to take her order,
Waiting for someone to come and sit down.
After many weeks, Devi finally accepted the job at Nerve. Her boss was upset, but she had to admit painting was her passion and not serving brain dead customers. He promised to send any messages that Johnny gave him to Devi. Devi wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. She acted out the latter, but inside, she was quietly confused. She loved him, and he had tried to kill her. The job at Nerve only made it more obvious that she really was sick. Talking to dolls that were both her and something else. Being agoraphobic. Living off Cheerios. Falling in love with homicidal maniacs. She quit soon after realizing that. She felt sorry for the next artist they hired. But then again, she couldn't careless. It took her a while, but she finally began to feel better about everything. She got rid of Sickness, although she had a feeling she would always be around. She managed to eat something other than breakfast cereal, and had slowly begun to go out of her home, although it took a lot of pestering from Tenna and a lot of confidence. But her emotions still hung around. Her feelings still hung around. Her love for Johnny still hung around. Damn them.
She rubs the smudge off the photograph, puts it back in her purse.
The grey sky was romantic cause he was holding her hand,
He was her man.
Everything seemed so wonderful when he was around. She even liked having him there when he was in his bad moods, and looked as if he wanted to pick up the cash register and throw it at something. But most of all, she loved his good days. During the good days, he was always much more talkative, and at the same time, he would listen to her with such intensity, she was almost sure he had to give himself a mental shake, and tell himself to talk, and stop himself from drooling. Not that Johnny drooled. She would have been frightened if he did. Devi missed those days, slightly, when she worked at the bookstore. She even missed the brain dead customers. Hugging her knees tighter against her chest, Devi felt tears stinging her eyes, the way her nose prickled whenever she was about to cry. Blinking back her tears, she huddled against the park bench. The sun was still blazing up in the sky like some wonderful, Supreme Being. Watching the people walk past her, she scratched her cheek, a habit she had picked up when she was a child, something she did when she was trying to busy her hands. She ended up doing it quite a bit when Johnny had just begun to enter the store to see her. In the end she grew more comfortable, and found no need to busy her hands. She could just stand, gazing into his emotional eyes, listen to his stories, and just fade away into nothingness when he was around. In the end, her boss had to poke when customers had begun to line up. It always embarrassed her, but she couldn't help but go into that mode. Johnny always made her so happy. So very happy. He made her feel… well, fuzzy inside. Setting her feet on the ground, she gave her head a bit of a shake. Devi had just drawn in a deep breath and was about to walk back home when she saw someone she wanted to, but didn't expect to see. Jonathan… Johnny… John… Nny.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
Sometimes called falling in love.
Sometimes called falling in love.
Her breath caught in her throat. She honestly hadn't been expecting to see him. He had spotted her, his large eyes, always full of emotion catching sight of her. She wanted to jump up, and run off, or scream, or throw her shoe at him. Or something. Anything, just get away from him, or scare him off. But, being as she sat so still, her emerald green eyes locked on him, Johnny must have taken it as a way of letting him come over. And next thing she knew, he was sitting beside her. Both of them were on opposite ends of the park bench, like it was an advertisement Devi had once seen about Broadband Internet Connection. Her head was still stuck forward, but she was more than aware of the young man sitting so close to her. Devi had the odd feeling that he was in the position as her. Rubbing her hands together, she forced herself to turn to face him. Her head was full of thoughts of him, and it was as if they had made him come to her. Letting out a sigh, she crossed her legs out in front of him, and bit her lower lip. She felt she had to say something, but in the end she didn't. Instead, she uncrossed her legs, and rested her arm on the armrest beside her. Johnny had somehow done the same on the other side of the bench. There was an odd, uncomfortable tension between them. If anyone decided to sit down in between them, they would most likely explode into tens of thousands of pieces, and Devi was more than happy when people just passed them by.
She wanted to be a cowboy,
She was shootin' em down,
She was tramping around.
After a few minutes of silence, Devi felt Johnny's eyes on her. Looking nervously over at him, she gave him a bit of a questioning look. Shrugging, he gave her the tiniest hint of a smile, and Devi gave him a bit of a smile back. She then looked away from him, and down at her lap. She felt Johnny's gaze lift from her. Her heart seemed to beating over a hundred times a minute, and, in all her nervousness, and the fact her hands were shaking so badly, it looked as if she had Parkinson's Disease, Devi knew no matter how hard she tried, she was not going to stop loving Johnny. He gave her everything she could have asked for: respect, love, and happiness. Unfortunately, he had tried to kill her. People would think that would stop all nice feelings towards a person. But it hadn't stopped Devi for long. Devi had always been different. And now she was still being different. Johnny would never stop killing people, as far as Devi knew, but he had claimed he wasn't a thief. He was wrong though. He had stolen her heart. And although they still sat at opposite ends of the park bench, Devi knew she would never get her heart back.
A/N: Yay. Mush rules. Review, pleeeeease, so my brain can make me write more of this crap, which I am very proud of.