EDIT: My grammar sucks when I'm hungover.
I'm not really sure why I wrote this. Crap, I'm such a horrible person. I haven't updated any Bones in ages. But I swear, my magic fairy friend is helping me (you know who you are :D). So, for now... I am working on
Bones.
His POV
The whisky bottle was lying on the floor. The apartment was empty apart from him and the cold glass. He knew that someone would understand. Just that someone happen to be dead. Dead. Lying under the ground, buried six feet. He kicked the bottle across the floor, the glass clicking on the white washed wall.
A knock on the door drew his attention from the light yellow bottle to the person trying to steal his mind. He slumbered from the couch, stubbing his toe on the wall as he went. "What?" He barked.
A petite brunette with bright green eyes and a purple suitcase next to her. She blinked at him and smiled, her light pink lips returning into a frown. "Hey."
"Is this important?"
"Yeah it is." She pushed past him and he closed the door. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at her. Her hair lightly fell past her shoulders and curled around her heart shaped lips. "I know what's going on." One of her light yellow sneakers kicked the empty bottle across the room.
"What do you mean?" He looked at the ground, blue eyes darkening.
"I don't have a doctorate in psychology for no reason. I can tell that somethings wrong."
"What are you taking about?" He said, as she perched herself on the suitcase.
"You stopped shaving. You're wearing different things to work. You're more depressed. I understand what's going on."
"What would you understand?"
"Yeah, I know. I'm some hyper-active, technical analyst slash sketch artist. I'm brightly coloured and I love sparkles. What would I know about addiction and loss?"
He snapped, "Yes, what would you know about addiction and loss?"
"I was addicted to heroin from when I was fourteen to twenty two. My brother's throat was slit in-front of me. I was fourteen when he died. It was a week after that, I thought that I was addicted for life. I worked the streets when I was sixteen to pay for my addiction."
He snorted. "So. What magic spell made you stop?"
"Mac. I'd tried to quit before, lots of times. I was high, I couldn't take the pressure of living anymore. Everything had started becoming so hard. Eating, sleeping, talking, moving, breathing. I was standing on the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge, about to throw myself of it. He grabbed my hand and told me to come back down. He remember who I was. We'd met a month before when I was giving a lecture on linguistics, in Miami. I was always being transferred around, New York, Las Vegas, Miami. Everywhere. No one wanted me. Mac offered me a stable job with a good pay. I accepted."
"And they let some sparkly pink drug addict on the team?"
"No, the deal was the I would stop. I was in rehab for just under a year. Do you have an idea how horrible rehab is?"
"No."
"That's why I'm here. I want to help you. I don't want to see you end up like me." She looks at him and smiles, "I want to help you."
"I don't need your help."
She frowns and then picks up a empty bottle. "Mhmm." She then starts to pick up some of the other ones. He sighs and starts helping her pick them up. She sighs and dumps the bottles in the bin.
"Are you going to let me help you?"
He doesn't respond to her and just dumps the bottles he has in the bin. "Why not? What could go wrong." He says as he slumps off to bed.
He looks back and she has some tears in her green eyes. "Goodnight Donnie." She whispers.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.
His nose twitches to the smell of apple and vanilla in the morning. He swings his bare legs form the bed and grabs a pair of pants. Stumbling from the room, Don went into the kitchen and there was a stack of pancakes. Hot, fresh and homemade pancakes. With paper?
Don walked over to the pancakes and picked up the paper. On the front there was a sketch of the sunrise from his apartment and in her familiar handwriting it said, Morning Sunshine. He can practically smell her. The Starbucks Sugar-Free Chewing Gum, vanilla scented body lotion and the grapefruit body spray.
His ears then lightly picked up the sound of the shower running in the background and he remembered that she was staying with him.
Until this all blows over.
It stopped and some light footsteps pitter-pattering along the tile floor. The thin brunette stuck her head from the door and a hot blush flew across her cheeks. "Um, hi Donnie?"
"Hey. So, uh, do you want some clothes?"
"Sure. Clothes are good?"
He lets a small laugh escape and she grins. It's only now that he realizes that her lips are makeup free and looking perfectly kissable. She clicks her fingers, bringing him back to reality. "So, what do you want?"
"Well, I'd like some panties and a bra, if that's okay? Then maybe that ripped pink shirt. Um and my silver denim shorts. Oh and some seriously cool looking socks." Don laughs and starts going through her bag.
"So, what colour... underwear are we looking for?
"Gawd, anything?"
"So, does that including the eye-patch?" He said holding up a very small piece of purple fabric.
More red rushed to her once faded cheeks and she looked like she was about to almost cry and scream at the same time. "Uh, something more normal please. And try to go for something blue?"
"Something blue." He said as he chucked her a matching blue bra and panties with some odd knee high socks. Then a pink top, and the shorts she wanted. Even more blush run to her cheeks and she quickly closed the door behind her. He laughed and then picked up a pancake, wedging it into his mouth. Damn, okay. Advantage Number One Of Having A Ex-Drug Addict Living In Your House: She can cook.
Minutes later the brunette walked out, blush still coating her cheeks. He coughed and the red blood ran to her cheeks again. He smiled at her and she shuffled over to him. "Good food?"
"Yeah. Hey, when did you draw this?" Don picked up the sunset and passed it to her.
"This morning."
"But you would have to been up at about five o'clock?"
"Yeah. I draw every morning and there is the most amazing view from your window. I love your place."
"Okay." Honestly, he wasn't purposely looking at her boobs; but when with in the past three-odd minutes you just handed her a bra then you kind of can't help it. She smiled at him and he laughed, "What's got you super happy Sketch?"
"Don't call me that, Donnie."
"C'mon I just looked at your underwear, I'm pretty sure that I can call you whatever I want." Donnie laughed. She laughed at him again and then she grabbed her art book. She then handed him the book, nodding her head as if she wanted him to read it.
Don started looking at the black'n'white hazy drawings. Sunsets & sunrises, people, faces, animals, landscapes fantasy places and people. Then on the last page was a half finished drawing of a face. His face. "So Sketch? Why am I in here?"
"I have a thing for your cheek bones." Advantage Number Two Of Having A Talented Artist That Can Cook Living In Your Home: She likes his face. In a non weird way.
"Great Sketch. I'm glad you like my face."
"No, I like you cheekbones. Not your face."
"What's wrong with my face?" Don questioned her.
"Nothing is wrong with your face. The main part of your face that I like is your cheek bones and you lips."
"Oh, you like my lips huh?"
"Yeah, I love your lips. There beautiful and perfect looking." She walked over to him and lightly ran her thumb over his bottom one. He grabbed her wrist and calmly pressed a warm, carefully kiss to her lips. Her eyes shot insanely wide open before they closed and she started kissing him back.
When she pulled away, her head ducked down and green eyes cast to the ground. "Do you know why me and Adam broke up?"
"No." Don said.
Her POV
They had been the labs 'cute' couple. The irony of there names, the cute little flirting and the small hidden kisses. Well, they had been more then kisses. For the record, they needed to learn to lock doors. But it's not like it could last forever. It was a summer romance. Just not in summer. Everyone knew that it would fizzle out, just not as quickly as it did. Adam guessed after about six or seven months that she had fallen for someone else.
Who is she kiddin'. Six or seven months? Six months, twelve days, three hours and forty two seconds. You don't forget someone saying those five words so quickly, then walking away from everything that they had.
With her sketch pad under her arm and glossy brown hair swept away from a heart shaped face, a petite woman walked into the lab of Adam Ross. Her blue converse (with one black and white spotty ankle sock and another knee high pink and green love hearts sock) silently made there away along the ground as she went to plant a pink kiss on his cheeks but he moved away.
"Adam? Are you okay?"
"We need to talk."
"What about?"
Thirty nine, fourth, forty one, -
"I'm breaking up with you."
Tears threatened to break from her eyes, a painful sensation washed over her. Almost like her heart was breaking. But her heart can't break anymore. Something can only break a couple of times before it can't ever be fixed again.
And she passed that mark along time ago.
Don looked over at her from the window and saw her turn and run from Adam. He walked over to Ross and said, "What did you do to her?"
"Woah dude. I broke up with her. You should be happy about that."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's obviously in-love with you."
Don shook his head and Adam grinned. "Have you ever thought how many times that she has been hurt?"
Ross looked confused, "No. She's to happy for her own good."
"Did you know that her boyfriend's throat was slit? Same with her brother. And her father. Every man in her life has left her and now you do the same."
"I didn't know that!"
.
She's facing the wall, rapidly drawing. Her face is a light pink and her eyes swollen from tears. Adam walks up from behind her and taps her shoulder. "Hey."
"Go away Adam." Month one, day one, hour one, minute four, second nine of being single.
"I just want to talk."
She kicks the wall and then rubs her shoed foot. "Adam, you must know by now that I've been hurt way to many times for my own good."
"Yeah, Flack told me."
"And that I should have seen you breaking up with me coming."
"No. You shouldn't have."
"I should have." She stands up and turns around. "I rock some serious socks. I could sing every Disney Channel song every made. I've touched glitter with in the last 24 hours. Just because I'm like that doesn't mean that I'm not strong."
"I never said that you're not strong!"
"You never said that I wasn't weak."
.
"This morning at 2.17 am, the overdosed and beaten body of a young woman was found slumped against Brooklyn Bridge. The woman is currently a Jane-Doe and is currently undergoing a 12 hour surgery." The face of a brunette with closed eyes and pale skin flashed up on screen. The skin was, broken, bloodied and bruised. It had long blood covered wounds and her undereyes looked like someone had hit her with a bag of bricks. "It anyone recognizes this woman could they please call into Saint Mary's hospital on..."
Soup moose soup :)
xoxo Val out.
PEACE.