A/N: So this one is CC with both CC and UC leanings, high angst, of course, some use of foul language mostly in the lyrics. Also, it covers six different character perspectives, none of which are labeled although they should be clear, and is a bit of an experiment in POV for me. Hope you all enjoy and as expected, I own none of the lyrics to Untouchable Face by Ani DiFranco, although I do love the song.
Untouchable Face
Think I'm going for a walk now
I feel a little unsteady
I don't want nobody to follow me
'Cept maybe you
I could make you happy you know
If you weren't already
I could do a lot of things
And I do
I watch you with them, the way you strut, the tilt of your head as you deliver the perfect scathing comment, the way you nonchalantly flick your hair when someone compliments you. I know I don't cross your mind even once. I know you don't think of me, not the way I think of you. Even when you find me useful, or amusing, or even comforting, it's never enough. You have your perfect world, even with its dark secret, and there's no room in it for me.
It hurts, even though I don't show it. You were my first crush, the first girl I had a dream about, the young woman I followed, still follow, around like a helpless puppy dog, even when Liz and Maria told me not to bother, that a girl like you would never look twice at guy like me. They told me (still tell me) that you didn't deserve me, but they don't see you like I do. They don't see the vulnerability behind the icy façade; they don't see the true beauty that lurks beneath your perfect exterior.
But I do. I might be the only who does. So why won't you let me make you happy?
Tell you the truth I prefer
The worst of you
Too bad you had to have a better half
She's not really my type
But I think you two are forever
And I hate to say it but
You're perfect together
I watch you with her, the way you smile, the way you touch her face, the way your whole body turns towards her with every move she makes. It makes me sick. That should be me. I'm one the one that should make you laugh, so warm and golden and happy. I can't deny that, that's the worst thing. Even I can see that this isn't some crush, that my delusions of attraction are just that, chemically altered alien instincts and the fantasies of a girl who's wanted you since she knew what want was.
I tried to understand the attraction, studied her so long that I just might know her better than you do, but I can't see it, although I know you do, and I know you'll never see anyone else. She is it for you, even if she walks away, or gets hit by a bus as I sometimes fantasize, it won't matter. Something in you has latched on to her, made her your world, and I love you too much to take that world away.
I wish I'd had my chance. I wish you'd met me first. Maybe you would have latched on to me, the way you did in my memories, the way you do in every day dream I've ever had, and ever will have.
Why couldn't I be her?
So fuck you
And your untouchable face
And fuck you
For existing in the first place
And who am I
That I should be vying for your touch
And who am I
I bet you can't even tell me that much
I can't stop watching you, even though you're not mine to watch, not anymore. You chose him, the freak, the loner, the nerd. Was that the attraction? I know I'm not as smart as you, but I made you smile, made you laugh. Does he make you laugh? I don't think he does. I hate how carefully blank your face is when you look at me now, the empty pity in your eyes. Was it all a lie? Did you never really care?
And who the hell is he to take you away? He's a nobody. If he ceased to exist no one would notice. No one but you. I wish I didn't care, that I could just walk away as easily as you did, but I can't. I could have any girl in this school, but I chose you. You were special, are special, and even though I shouldn't, I still want you to be mine.
Do you ever think of me? Do the memories we made still linger in your mind? Does the thought of our first kiss, after I drove you to that museum in Albuquerque, so boring but worth every sparkling grin, still make you glow like you did that day? Somehow I don't think it does. I think he's taken over every part of your life and I think that the girl who giggled when I helped her sneak over the rope to take a picture with that painting, I think she's gone.
I'll always remember her though, and if I'm wrong, if she comes back, even though I know you don't care, I'll be here waiting.
Two-thirty in the morning
And my gas tank will be empty soon
Neon sign on the horizon
Rubbing elbows with the moon
A safe haven of sleepless
Where the deep fryer's always on
Radio is counting down
The top 20 country songs
I used to watch you watch her and wish that you were watching me. You were so perfect; handsome, sensitive, sweet, and she never noticed. Oh she'd blush when I mentioned you, steal glances, but I know my best friend, and while she thought you were cute, she didn't have the same light in her eyes that you did. A light I would do anything to see directed at me.
It's why I kissed him that night, or rather didn't protest when he kissed me. It was as close as I could get to you. I know that's sick, and twisted, and that I should have stayed strong, but dramatics only get you so far, and sometimes a girl wants something a bit more tangible. And you, you weren't available, orbiting around her like the earth around the sun, while she basked in the glow and cautiously began to return your affection.
I love her you know, she's my rock, always has been, and always will be. So even though I didn't think she cared like I did, I said nothing, was the perfect cheerleader. After all she's the damsel and I'm the sidekick and I like it that way, and all the songs say that's how it supposed to be, damsel and hero, sidekick and hero's sidekick. And he was there, all brooding and stoic, and I hoped that maybe you'd rubbed off on him, that maybe it would be enough.
But every shift we work, my eyes aren't drawn to him working the fryer in the kitchen; they're drawn to you, watching her, while I wish you that were watching me.
Y'know I don't look forward
To seeing you again soon
You'll look like a photograph of yourself
Taken from far far away
And I won't know what to do
And I won't know what to say
Except fuck you…
I've watched him watch you for as long as I can remember. It's one of my earliest memories, trying to figure out why his attention was always straying, and once I did, trying to figure out why. I figured it out, eventually; I've always been slower to catch on. But I did. I saw what made you special; I learned your expressions, what it meant when you nibbled on your bottom lip, the way you would twirl your hair when listening to Maria, or tug on it when you were frustrated. I began to watch you for you, instead of for him.
It was my secret hobby, secret torment, just one more thing I wanted that I couldn't have, except that this time, he couldn't have you either, so it was okay. Until the day it stopped being okay, until he wasn't just watching anymore, and I felt you getting farther and farther away until I couldn't watch you anymore because all I saw was him.
I don't know why I kissed her, why I keep kissing her. I'm not attracted to her, not beyond the fact that I'm a guy and she's a pretty girl and that hormones rule when you're a teenager, no matter your species. I don't even really like her; she's annoying, even when we're kissing, since for some reason she's usually picturing him, which frankly is a bit creepy.
But then I'm picturing you, because you won't get out of my head, so maybe we're meant for each other, just the way you and him are. No matter how much it sucks, and how much I wish it was the other way around. The universe likes to fuck with me, I've always known this; I just wish I didn't care so much. I wish you weren't so easy to care about.
I see you and I'm so perplexed
What was I thinking
What will I think of next
Where can I hide
There's a changing constellation
Of balls we are playing
I see orion and say nothing
I find myself studying you, when I should be studying something or someone else. I don't know why, I haven't figured it out yet. I've made lists, lists carefully destroyed before prying eyes, such as yours, can find them. But they haven't helped, and I won't go so far as to make charts and reports, so all I can do is watch, watch the way your hair sticks up when you're really frustrated because you can't stop touching it, the way you scratch your eyebrow when you're thinking, or embarrassed, the way your muscles bunch under your shirt when you help me clean at night.
I figured it out, and I wish I hadn't, because it's wrong, and I shouldn't be thinking these things, not now, not about you. I already walked away from one boy because of the pull of another, already thought I'd found what had been missing, what I'd been craving. I'm not prepared to admit that I was wrong, that he isn't what I wanted, that it's been you all along.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I appreciate what I have, why do my eyes stray even when I tell them not to? I like control, I'm usually very good at keeping it, but something about you removes that, which both scares me and excites me. I don't like that I like it.
I keep watching, because I can't stop, but I'm strong enough to look and not touch. Because I'm his and you're hers and I can't walk away again, I can't be so fickle. I refuse to see you watching you back; I don't listen to the best advice I was ever given.
I watch, and I do nothing. I'm good at that too.
The only thing I can think of saying
Is fuck you…