a/n: oh, hi there! seeing as this is my first upload to this website, i'd like to introduce myself to the community with a clique-fic. constructive criticism is much appreciated,
xoxo
[ ... ]
When the large hand (which is counting down the hours until her new beginning) finally ceases it's metronome, the girl they used to call Massie Block (back when they used to speak to her) sits, alone, in the dim lighting of her bedroom and wonders what she's going to do with the rest of her life.
[ … ]
A broken heart; an empty promise; an amber-eyed vixen; they all lead to the end of him. There he is, sitting in his notorious, dejected manner as if it wasn't, as if it isn't, his fault. And, technically, isn't it? Because she wasn't the one to say it-was-fun-while-it-lasted, and she didn't suggest seeing other people; and when there came the tears, she certainly didn't begin to yell that there wasn't-a-chance-it-could-happen-again-so-shut-up, and when she wouldn't stop the distraught sobbing, she failed to slap that rosy cheek in fury and shame. Derrick Harrington stares at the guilty party in his spotless mirror and counts down until the start of what could be forever.
[ … ]
Beside the beauty clad in winter white (for she had abandoned the idea of festive red-and-greeen) rests her untouched cell phone. Back then, before and while they were dating, it would've been ablaze with well wishers inviting her to New Year's parties and giving their love to her and 'the family', if one ever-busy single mother counts as family. Back then, when Massie's father still lived, the word 'family' could've been applicable, even exceeding the acceptable standard, but now he's dead and there's nothing anyone can do about it. The sympathy glances and pity texts stopped coming around after her Briarwood sweetheart had broken up with her and everyone had realized that she'd changed. She had a new partiality for the color black and all who abused it and cringed at any cruel joke, when everyone knew she used to dish them out with skilled frequency. So they followed Derrick's example and chose to strip her of everything she'd ever known. They left her, too.
Her vision is blurry and clouded alongside her thoughts, which are leaning toward the possibility of phoning the one who broke her heart, which truly isn't even an option. Now that Massie thinks about it, there aren't very many options. Her mother is working a night shift, her friends are non-existent, and there is only so much her faithful black pug can do. Even though it's surely a side effect of a broken heart, she decides to let go of her rigid mentality (in which non-options remain non-options and nothing ever changes) and strokes her thumbs across the cracked screen of her phone, dialing Derrick's number off the top of her head; remembering the digits that were once her whole life.
Momentarily, she hesitates, thinking of who she was this time, last year. She was prettier, curvier, happier; more predictable, less spontaneous, probably attending somebody's holiday party and oblivious to the fact that one day in the not so distant future, she'd have deteriorated into a lesser, sadder version of herself.
Who was she, back when she was MassieandDerrick, back when she barely belonged to herself?
Not the type of girl to abandon the rules and dial up non-options, that was for damn sure.
The green 'Call' button is inviting, even more so now that she's done some self-examination (which she's sure that her shrink would recommend). There is absolutely no hesitation this time around when she makes her decision (again) to call. Or, maybe just a little bit.
[ … ]
"It's Massie."
He couldn't fathom what she was doing at this hour, calling him again after all the time that had passed.
"I know. Why did you call?" Instantly, he regrets it. As if the reason will shift the fact. She called, that's what's important. Yet he reigns in his urge to kiss the phone with gratitude and rather holds back.
"I don't need a reason."
"But why?" He persists.
There is silence on the opposite end, as if she is thinking about it herself. Derrick is afraid he's scared her away; and then she speaks. "Because I felt like I needed to hear your voice before I transitioned into tomorrow."
He had been feeling exactly the same. "Where have you been, Massie?" His breath is long and heavy into the speaker.
Mocking laughter is his immediate response. "I wasn't the one who was gone," Massie says factually, and hangs up, leaving him with a dead dialing tone.
[ … ]
Another year arrives as Massie sets down her cellular phone. She lifts her olive toned face and says goodbye to her past, goodbye to yesterday.
[ … ]
This time, he didn't end it.
It isn't much consolation. He ended a three-year relationship that she'd fallen into unsteadily (and leaned onto as a crutch), she a phone conversation after more than one year of stillness between them. It hardly qualified for decent comparison.
She remembers when he broke up with her, on a wintry evening following a cheesy romantic comedy she'd dragged him to see because the tickets were cheap and she was bored.
There was, as usual, a reason.
It was October; it was a Saturday; it was an hour before her father passed away.
Massie cradles the memory and then lets it go, releasing it back into her endless sea of thoughts and burying it beneath her scarred soul.
End
[ … ]
a/n; and it pretty much sucked, i'm sorry. ,