Jack: There's just something about Ronnie. Her mysterious exterior. Her caring nature. Her ability to forgive evilness. Like an unbeknown charm she entices me and lures me, unintentionally and irresistibly. I love the way she brightens up a whole room, even when she's in a temper, as her pearly white skin reflects and refracts light, shining, beaming, dazzling into every bleak crevice and corner. It makes my heart leap out of my chest, longing to be closer to her's as one, like magnets we attract, but when we repel, it's not pretty.
Her mind is a series of circuits, some wires have been broken, some unhinged and untamed, some which don't quite connect, some which have been betrayed by its fellow components, some whom have been stripped back and manipulated; then the bulb; the source of her wit, power and cool intellect.
She can make you feel like the most loved and cherished man in the world, but the instant you cross the line between the past and the past, she begins to shut down and push you away as far as possible whilst she freezes, capturing and engulfing all her emotion, keeping it hostage. You want to, you need to hold her in your arms and melt the frozen water away, but it's scary. She looks so alien in her process and too pretty, beautiful and threatening, like a Goddess of pure ice. A simple brush against her and its frostbites ablaze. It's not her fault, nor is in her nature, but it verses nurture. Nurture from her evil father, who has twisted and taught her his cruel ways.
I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from 'A' to where you'd 'B'
It's only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places
I'm lying down on the fully shadowed, widowed bed. I stare up at the blank ceiling, and I see the night sky; my night sky. It has no stars, or even light pollution from the corrupt world below. It has four corners and four edges, marking all the endings in my life and shielding me in the trapped cage I have driven myself into. I can't face looking at the empty space beside me; it's too painful and bursting with regret. Questions aerating amidst the vortex room; Why? Why? And why?
I close my eyes and I can feel her touch; her sweet shallow breathing on my neck accompanied by her gentle floral scent. Shivers electrify down my spine as her fingertips grace across my naked chest. My heart is pulsing quickly and I pout my lips and lean my head slightly closer to hers...
But it is just a dream, and as I wake once more, I feel empty once again.
I hang my coat up in the first bar
There is no peace that I've found so far
The laughter penetrates my silence
As drunken men find flaws in science
Ronnie: Another day gone; another pointless, monotonous tragedy. My life seems to be jam packed with these days. Every second of every lone minute was dearly treasured when I had Jack. But now it feels never ending and claustrophobic, like I can't breathe, like I've become numb, like there's no meaning anymore. And it hurts. Is someone striking a gallivant dagger at my heart or are they mentally torturing me? I don't know which is worse; but I'd rather take the stab.
I'm walking into the little efficient kitchen, in pure darkness. I can't sleep, not alone, not knowing whether the man I love feels the same way back. It's like not knowing if the sun will rise tomorrow, or if the birds will joyously chorus, amplifying the square with beauty amongst the chaos each morning.
I see the tables and chairs in their usual legally binding places as the moon trickles from underneath the blind, where it doesn't quite reach the window sill. I sit down, moving the chair slowly and silently so that the happy sleepers don't awake of my own selfish accord. Everything is so ghostly, a solo drip of water escapes from the tap and slaps the metal sink, making me gasp in fright. I don't want to admit it, or believe it, but I am vulnerable. It terrifies me. I dread the unwelcome presence of the eerie solemn night; it only brings on a heavy pang of desire.
Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me
I look across the table and I see a familiar face. Jack's warm smile lifts my sunken features as we stare in content and awe at one another's presence. His eyes are hot on my cheeks as he admires me, and I am grateful for the lack of light. My own eyes trace the frown lines on his forehead, which glow as they read my drained appearance. He is looking really concerned as he analyses me. The corners of his mouth begin to seep down his chin. He lifts his strong hand from the table surface and reaches out towards my face. I close my eyes and expect his warm skin to glorify my bones and fill me with hope.
"Ronnie?"
I open my eyes and the kitchen light blinds me. Roxy is stood at the door frame, her hair is messed up and her body is safely wrapped up in my fluffy dressing gown. I look down at the table and see puddles of tears drops accumulated together.
"I heard you sobbing."
He had seemed so real. But I was tiered and weary and vacant.
I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground and
I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms
Jack: I'm standing in the lounge. Nowhere in particular. Each possession in the room reminds me of Ronnie, each photograph of her I worship, because it's the closest I can get to her. I pick up the white frame from the fireplace and dote over the girl staring back. She looks so happy; her toasty smile bares her teeth, I swear I can hear her girlish laugh echo; it's like a melody of bells in my ears. I press my lips hard against the glass – there's always something separating us. The man beside her looks thrilled too. He doesn't have worry lines on his head, or a constant upside down smile.
I take a walk outside – anything to force me into an exhausted sleep. The whisper of the wind coaxes me to stroll towards the Vic. I look up and see the kitchen light on. Please don't let it be Ronnie awake. I don't want her to stay up into the early hours of the morning, where life doesn't yet exist, nor do I wish for her to have difficulties sleeping like me. I want her to be happy; it's the least she deserves.
I wonder how long I have been starring at the window for. Hours? Minutes? What does it matter anyway...the light is still on.
After I have travelled so far
We'd set the fire to the third bar
We'd share each other like an island
Until exhausted, close our eyelids
And dreaming, pick up from
The last place we left off
Your soft skin is weeping
A joy you can't keep in
Ronnie: He likes Bailey's, but he won't admit it because it's not a 'man's drink'. He's a cleaning fanatic, which if you where to ask him, he would most definitely deny. He puts up a defence which tells everyone he is a lone wolf; independent and leader, but really his biggest desire is to have someone to cuddle, protect and care for. He is the proudest father on the earth and he is the only man I have ever loved.
I have managed to convince Roxy to go back to her pleasant dreams of Amy and Chanel perfume and designer shoes. She obeys me. Of course she does; I'm a manipulative, persuasive offspring of a sinful serpent.
I get a glass from the overhead cupboard and watch the water fall smoothly from the tap. I peer under the blind and almost have a heart seizure as Jack stands below like my unknowing Romeo. The glass shatters, sprinkling the tiles with dangerous shards. My bare feet become infested with mini bloody soldiers as they charge downstairs. Left, right, left, right, left. I ignore the pain from my feet, because the pain in my heart needs attending to first.
My shaking hands unbolt the front doors and I run outside, screaming his name as he walks back to his flat, unaware of my presence.
"JAAAAACCCCKKK!!!" I screech at the top of my voice.
I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
And I, I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms
As Jack heard the chilling scream, he instantaneously slipped out of his almost sleep trance. His heels pivoted on the ground as a beautiful disaster appeared before his very eyes. He couldn't be certain whether it was just another illusion, his mind playing evil tricks, but nonetheless his heart guided him towards her presence.
Time had come to a standstill, his footsteps travelling at snail pace. Ronnie wondered if she was dreaming, or if it was one of those nightmares where she couldn't quite reach him, or touch him. Where all she could do was watch what she couldn't have. Her own feet raced towards him, and the distance between them became smaller and smaller...
I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
and I, I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms
First, he touched her face to make sure she was real. The tears clouding her eyes draped down her face and splashed onto his fingertip, making him smile. With an effortless sweep, her injured feet were lifted into the refreshing night air, and she was safe and warm in his strong, loving arms at last.
A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been so long since I last wrote anything, but I have had my GCSE mocks this week :(
I was going to do a Rack Christmas thing, with an Xmas song, but I decided against it and wrote this. The song is 'Set Fire To The Third Bar' By Snow Patrol and Martha Wainright, it's such a beautiful song and quite chilling if you've ever listened to it. I also love the lyrics:
'Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me'
The final 3 paragraphs are written in 3rd person because I have left it up to you to decide whether Ronnie/Jack is dreaming or not, but in my mind, it is Jack who is dreaming everything (he never actually gets out of bed).
But that is just what I think :)
PLEASE review and tell me what you think :)
I might do a proper Christmas one before the 25th!
Merry Christmas, love Scarlett x