[a/n: Alright so I'm not really sure where this idea came from. I was simply doing my math homework and then BOOM plot bunny. Thank you plot bunny. You have given me something to contribute to my favorite ship. This is my first time using second POV so any comments about my usage would be wonderful. I want to make sure I'm doing it right, and if it's something that I should experiment with more. Prepare your bodies for sad times and, possibly, some typos. I read over it but I might have missed something. Also in this think of Gilbert as like a second-in-command to a gang boss or something like that. Yeah. Enjoy!]
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one.
This wasn't how it supposed to go.
This night was not meant to be full of pained and bitter glances, and false smiles masking the harsh reality of the situation. Tense silences were not in the plan. Teary eyes hidden behind hands and excuses to go the bathroom were never even an option. The sound of clinking silverware against porcelain plates were not intended to be the music for the evening.
This was not the plan at all.
But, then again, what was this night supposed to be in the first place? All of these things should have been expected. The silences, and the fake smiles, and the eyes that made any positive emotion cease to exist, these were all to be expected.
It was no surprise really. In fact, it was foolish to believe in any other outcome.
Why not plan for heartache when it's been plentiful before?
The hours wasted sitting by a phone that never rang, the months spent fooling yourself into thinking that it will work this time. The years that are nothing but a dark blur now, nothing more than time lost.
It's a miracle that it's lasted this long, or perhaps it's a curse. You'd never know.
Well, there's no hope towards righting the wrongs now. There is work to be done, and time to regain, and, most importantly, lives to be changed. You're not sure if this change is for the better or for the worst, but it needs to be done.
You rise from the cold table, the chair's screech acting like a knife in the stillness of the room. He keeps his gaze down, flinches briefly at the sound, before settling back to gazing at those porcelain plates. Violet eyes stare blankly at him, you really did love that white hair of his didn't you?
Red meets violet regretfully and two tinted mirrors are created. The pain, the anguish, the frustration lurking underneath the surface and the disgust that differentiates one from the other. They all come out at this moment. Let it all out.
He opens his mouth, the red flashing with something akin to hope, but you won't have it. Can't have it.
Your hand moves on its own, turning that pale skin red.
Like his eyes.
Your eyes are no longer mirrors, his now consumed with surprise and anger. Yours blank and dead, yet challenging. Daring him to copy you or to do worse, but he knows his place. He waits.
"I am not going to do this anymore Gilbert," your tone is flatter than your expression, well done. This is happening now. The change in the air is practically visible as his anger takes shape. Lightning strikes.
But there's something else there, is it heartbreak? Doubt? Disbelief?
He must be a fool if he didn't see this coming. The nights you spent waiting for his car to pull in, or for a simple call to reassure you of his safety. To reassure you that he was still alive.
You can't handle this life anymore. Detectives questioning you, allies talking through you, enemies trying to destroy you. Love was not enough anymore.
"You know I can't leave Mattie, you know he won't let me. Please, you're all that's keeping me sane right no—"
"Gilbert I don't want to repeat mys—"
A crash bounces against the walls as his chair clatters to the floor, the red flashing with despair and rage.
"Stop talking to me like that! You know I hate it!" This isn't turning out the way you expected but it's too late to run away. Finish this quickly.
"Oh, you hate when I talk to you like that? You know what I hate Gilbert? I hate staying awake long enough to see the sun rise twice. I hate waiting for you to call me or text me just so I can know that you're still alive. I hate spending every waking minute, and there's a lot of them, driving myself insane over you," your tone doesn't change once, but emotion is starting to seep through those drapes masking your eyes. You're almost there don't give up.
"But you wouldn't know what that feels like, would you Gilbert? The agony of not knowing if the only person you've ever loved is still breathing or conscious enough to remember that you exist. You haven't felt that, you haven't lived the past 10 years of your life like that."
A tear manages to escape from backstage and falls steadily down your rosy cheeks. His hand twitches almost subconsciously, the need to wipe it away being held back. A part of you wishes he gave into that urge.
"How could you say that Matthew?" Shock flashes through violet, but you scold it back into hiding.
"Don't you think I worry about you? Don't you ever stop to think that I know people are out there that want to kill me, to harm me? You're my only weakness Matthew; I've never stopped thinking about you. Not once," his hand reaches out across the space the table is occupying, but you back away. You've prepared yourself for this, you won't back down.
"I'm not that selfish Gilbert. I know that you love me, and I'm pretty damn sure that I love you with all of my heart. But love…love only gets me so far sometimes. We don't love like we used to anymore and don't give me that look, you know I'm right. This is the most we've said to each other in who knows how long."
Time to unleash the big guns.
"You weren't even here for our anniversary Gilbert. That was two weeks ago."
Tears are falling from red now, all traces of anger now replaced with a staggering amount of regret and sorrow. It's a struggle to maintain your mask anymore while meeting those eyes of his so you let the emotions bubble to the surface.
You're not sure if things are going according to plan or if this is what you had intended all along. Maybe it was destined to be this was from the very beginning. You're too dead to care.
His mouth opens and closes, trying to form the words that you doubt he knows how to form. So you wait. You wait for the words he's repeated time and time again. They would make a bitter memory, but it is one that you don't want to give up.
A shuddering breath. "Mattie…Mattie just, please, give me another chance. I'll make it up to you Birdie," not the Name, "We can do anything you want, please? We'll move, I'll buy you a hockey rink, I'll buy you a lifetime of maple syrup, the real stuff, we can even move if you want! I'll change please Matthew, you can't leave me!" It is too much. More tears spill from your eyes. Even though your mind is made up, those empty promises sound so tempting to trust, to give in to. But you're wiser now. You know that he means well but saying and doing are two different things that you have learned how to tell apart.
"We both know you don't mean those things Gil. I've been hearing the same lines from you since we first started dating and I'm tired of giving in. I'm just so tired."
And now it's time for you to make your grand exit, this conversation could go on forever after all. It certainly has in the past.
You stack up the porcelain plates quietly even though he's still going on about promising you the world. The dishes are brought to the sink to be washed whenever Gilbert finds the time.
Without even a glance in his direction, you collect your bags from his bedroom. Packing while dinner was cooking was a good idea. Another good idea was calling Alfred and actually asking for his help. After all he was the only person you could truly turn to at the moment. That's what heroes are for.
Gilbert stopped talking as soon as the luggage came into his line of vision, his eyes losing all of those vivid emotions in an instant.
"Alfred's waiting for me."
You set the few suitcases by the door and spot the hero getting out of his car. It looks like Arthur had caught wind of this as well, wonderful.
There's only one last step now: the good-bye.
Violet turns to the shattered red for one of the last times in a long while. Soft lips meet slightly chapped ones in a soft embrace. A hand stretches to touch the others cheek, another hand cradles the back of the others head.
There was no heat, nor any real passion.
Only truth.
The truth that this was the last kiss. The truth that there were no more words to be said in such an intimate way between you two. And this was saddening.
The regret that usually comes at the end of a kiss was replaced with something that can only be described as a farewell. You looked into those eyes of his one last time, channeling every emotion you have ever felt for this man, before dropping your hand and walking away.
You didn't look back at the piercing red that brought you two together in the first place.
You didn't let any more tears escape those violet eyes of yours that he "could get lost in for hours."
You didn't even look back at the home you spent 7 years living in.
No, you did none of these things. You merely planned how the rest of your nights were going to go from now on.
Maybe they would go according to plan. Only time will tell.