Disclaimer: I do not own a damn thing. It's a sad and very cruel world. Because If I did own anything, TR would be chained to my bed and I would not be here writing whatever it is I'm about to write.
A/N: Please excuse any typos, or if this is just terrible. This is the side-effect and several shots of tequila, and a bottle or Arbor Mist. I don't even know what this is.
Unclean
I remember once when I was younger, I had a pretend wedding. I wore my white communion dress, the satin gloves, and the white Mary-Janes. I wore a white scarf over my head as a veil. I walked through my backyard, making my way to the boy-next door, as he stood on the cement step.
He had a smile full of braces, and the look in his eyes with something I was too young too understand. In his tiny hands he held a tacky ring that I kept in my dress up box. And in mine was a ring for him, made of a twist tie from a box of garbage bags.
Kat played the "Here comes the bride" song on the kazoo the best she knew how, but you couldn't quite distinguish what it was exactly supposed to be. I walked down the 'aisle' in my backyard, dropping blades of fresh, spring summer grass mixed with the tiny red flowers the contained honey in the, dropping handful by handful, as I made my way closer.
The only sound, besides the annoying Kazoo, I remember was Sadie laughing hysterically at me, in that mocking tone that only she could display oh-so-well. I gritted my teeth and smiled.
But when I reached the step, my shoes suddenly grew to big for me, and I gave into the force of gravity, and found myself face-to-face with the little tiny ants crawling in the crevices on the cracked cement step.
I stood up, brushing the tears from my eyes, and wiping my tiny, pale hands on the white lace trim of the dress I actually hated just because it was white. Such a cliché it was. White was too pure. Too innocent, and vulnerable.
My mom yelled at me that day. But I didn't hear a word she was saying. My eyes had drifted to my skinned hands, and the speckled of red that adorned my dress. I smiled because the dress was no longer white, but held a pretty pattern of crimson smeared stained drops on the dress. There were a few miscellaneous speckles, and I tried to play connect the dots in my head, but it was too loud to think with the sound of my mother's voice echoing in my head.
Later that day, Sadie, walked up to me, curls bouncing, and a wicked smile on her pretty face. I always felt so ugly, much-less human when I stood next to her.
"Hey. Jude," she mocked. "You know, today was a sign," she told me smile plastered on her face, eyes flashing wildly the way the did only when she liked to tease me or cause trouble.
"It was?" I asked, my eyes widening in curiosity, wondering what my big sister meant. I was naïve after all.
"Yep. It sure was. Today means, that you'll never get married, or find someone to love you," she smirked. I lunged for her, grabbing her hair and wrestling her to the ground. I may have been smaller than her, but that didn't mean my anger wouldn't get the best of me. I was on top of her, and I hit her in the nose, which was actually an accident.
I felt something warm on my right glove and dress. It was the same color as the stain that I adored. The red stained everything it touched, and I stood up as Sadie cried her salty tears, and I rubbed my hands together, trying to paint the left glove a pretty crimson. It was so much better than that white.
But deep inside, somehow her words always stuck with me, haunted me through every crush, every relationship I ever had. Sadie and mine's relationship has changed drastically since then, but still the words would always play in my head like bad movie I wouldn't want to watch, over and over again.
So, here I sat, dressed in a white Vera Wang dress. The corseted top, encrusted with diamonds, glittered in the light, and the mesh overlay on the bottom poofed out even as I sat down. My blonde hair, which the hairdresser had spent hours upon, was now flowing down my back, slight curls at the end, after I ripped out the veil and tiara.
My own blue eyes greeted themselves in the vanity mirror, the black leaving a trail of tears that I wished I could take back, embalming themselves on my pale skin. My eyes were the blues I could ever remember, glistening wet. They were just so bright, that I couldn't help but let them mesmerize me for a few seconds, before I closed them shut again to try and stop the hot tears from falling from my eyes.
I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder, light fingers gracing me and squeezing gently.
"It was ever meant to be," I whispered in an explanation without opening my eyes, savoring the blackness.
"Jude," the sympathetic voice filled the empty air with concern etched on the outside.
"Remember when I was 7, and Jamie and I had that pretend wedding? Well, tried to anyways," I asked, finding the strength to open my eyes and our eyes met in the mirror. Her head shook, curls bouncing, like they always did. I let out a bitter smile. Always Sadie.
"You told me that it was a sign and that I was never going to find someone to love me," I recalled, but with a lack of bitterness that should have been there. But she was different know. I was different.
Sadie let out a sad smile, and she stood behind me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, and she leaned into me.
"Jude, we were kids. I didn't mean any of that," her words came out as I glanced in the mirror and saw the reflection of her eyes. There it was. The sympathy, the apologetic glance all into one. But I also saw something else. Everything she was feeling, I know she felt it for me, because at that moment I was too afraid. I had never loved my sister more than I did at that moment.
"I know. But I just never thought I would be the own cause of my misery. I never thought I would be the one to break someone's heart," I explained, as a hand came up to wipe my black tears away. A sniffle escaped as I tried to fight the tears that I wanted to stop from falling so badly.
I was the cause of my own destruction. Such a pretty, dirty mess I have made.
"Honey, you can't help it. You can't help who you love. And it wasn't him."
A sardonic laughed betrayed my lips, "You told me from that start that I couldn't love him the way I would want to. You were right."
"I didn't want to be," Sadie whispered to the nothingness in the air. She still clung on to me, except now she was sitting beside me on the antique bench, her hand grasping mine, as my head rested on her shoulder.
"It's white Sadie. WHITE!"
Sadie let out a giggle, "I know. You never wanted a white dress. Always one to break tradition," her head rested on top of mine, and we sat there in silence for a few minutes.
There was a knock on the wooden door, but I couldn't bring myself to look at the intruder. I just sat in my sisters embrace, and tried to clear my guilty conscience. Before I knew it, she placed a kiss on top of my head and let me go. I folded my arms, and placed them my head down in them on the vanity. I heard her whisper something too the person, but couldn't quite look up yet.
"Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be shedding tears over some boy," the familiar voice said and I found myself gasping for the breathe of air caught in my throat. My stomach did that thing where it got knots and I couldn't find anything intelligent to say.
I picked my head up, and turned my head to face him out if instinct, despite that tiny voice inside my head. I tried to wipe away the trail of eyeliner and mascara dripping down my face, and tried to gain composure, but before I knew it, he had rushed to me, and somehow my body had turned to face him, and he was kneeling in front of me on the bench. His warm, masculine hands gripped mine in his, and I shuddered at the electricity that shot through me, and felt my fears start to melt away, but he left me feeling so unnerved at the same time.
He always did this to me.
I couldn't explain it.
I didn't want to explain it.
Just like I didn't want to love him, but it felt so natural.
So unforced.
Like it was supposed to be.
And for the first time in a long time, I embraced it. I embraced him, and the feeling of his skin on mine.
"What happened out there, girl?" he asked, his sweet breathe brushing against my bare skin. Shame took over, and I cast my eyes to the floor, but he never let go of my hand.
I have never felt more naked in front of him than I did at this moment.
The words caught in my throat and I couldn't speak.
"Did he do something to you?" he asked, a slight sound of warning in his tone.
He always did that. He was always so protective of me. I remember once, he beat the hell out of a guy who felt me up in a bar. I told the guy to stop, and he didn't. I don't know how he knew, but he came too my aid. Just like he always did. Just like he always threatened any guy that ever showed interest in me.
But this time, he couldn't save me.
He couldn't save me from myself.
I did this.
I shook my head violently, and spoke without matching his gaze, "I did this. This was my fault. I just…couldn't do it. I couldn't marry him."
"Why, girl?"
"You know exactly why," I replied using his own words against him. He shot me a glance that further begged me to explain.
"Because…because he wasn't you," I finally confessed what had been dwelling and stirring inside of me since I was fifteen. I locked my eyes with his, and his eyes danced wildly in thought, but instead of letting go of me, his grip tensed and tightened, but his expression remained nonchalant.
"Jude," he whispered my name only the way he did.
I only liked my name when he said it.
"Tommy, I understand if you don't feel the same. But I can't explain it. When I was getting ready to walk out there and I saw him, the only thing I could think was that he wasn't you. He was the wrong person. And I couldn't commit myself to him, to a lie. It would all be a lie, Tommy. A lie in front of God," I explained in desperation hoping for some sort of reaction.
He pulled away from me, and I suddenly felt cold at the lack of contact, and struggled to find air to breathe. He was denying me. And my heart and mind couldn't take it. The tears were stirring inside again, and before I knew it, I was crying again.
He was pacing around the room, his hand on his head like he was trying to think of something to say.
"Tommy say something, please," I begged desperate, and he stopped pacing. He stood stoic and looked at me, his eyes piercing through my body, the most intense feeling I had ever felt. But I was suffocating at the same time. A gut-wreching pain shot through me, and I crumpled on to the floor.
This was too much. What had I done?
I walked away from a man who would have moved heaven and earth to keep my happy, just to be rejected by the only person I had ever truly loved.
I brought my knees to my chest, and cried and cried. Crying was something I despised more so than Britney Spears carrying Satan spawn, and K-Fed performing. And that was a hell of a lot.
The next thing I knew, he was sitting beside me and gathered me in his arms. I leaned against him, and he cradled me, rocking me back and forth.
"I never thought that you would forgive me for leaving you that night, Jude. I prayed that you would, and it just seemed impossible," he said out of nowhere, his voice wavering, a confession kept on high.
"We got to be friends again, and somedays I told myself that was enough, but it wasn't. Everytime I saw you with another guy, it killed me inside. I can't even begin to explain the jealousy and emptiness I felt, Jude. Then you told me you were getting married to Speed, and I lost it. I tried to be happy for you, I really did, but I just couldn't It just wasn't enough. And here we are…" he explained, and never before had he opened up so much to me. But it still wasn't the words I wanted to here. The words that I needed to here.
I pulled out of his arms slightly, and sat straight looking at him, my heart was pounding fast, and I couldn't think straight.
"Tell me Tommy. Tell me that everything I did tonight was worth. That it was worth something."
"It's you, Jude. It's always been you," he spoke, leaning in closer to me, his warm breath playing on my lips, his eyes locked on mine, and his arms wrapping around my waste. "I love you, Jude Harrison," he said the words that I had wanted to hear since I was fifteen, and placed a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips. His lips lingered on mine, and we both knew that this wasn't the time nor the place to take our passion further.
After he pulled away, I licked my lips, tasting him, savoring him, and he laid my head in his lap, and I laid there breathing with him, one of his strong hands resting on my hip, and the other playing with my hair, an unspoken promise of tomorrow lingering in the air.
Something caught my sight and I looked down to my waste, and there it was. One tiny speckle of blood that had soaked through after being pricked with the pin in my last fitting before my non-existent wedding with Speed.
But I smiled. Because this time I had found someone that I love who loves me.
There would be no stopping us together.
And I knew that if the time came, I wouldn't have to wear a white dress.
Because white was too pure.
I was not pure.
He was not pure.
We were unclean.
There was no depth.
It was too vulnerable.
It was too innocent.
And we were in no way innocent.
We were the disaster that would create chaos and havoc.
But that didn't matter.
We would be the epitome of tacky cereal box and twist tie rings.