I'm back. Look at me! Hee.
Okay, now that *that* is over, here's something more, um, sane: I've been away for a loooong time. How long has it been, really? lol - But I had to get back here sooner or later... stand-alones make me sad. lol
Another question quickly: Is F4F.com gone then? Permanently? Are they gonna send an email to members or anything? Ha.
--
His feet still weighed him down like bags of sand. It'd been two days since he'd awaken from that barely conscious hibernation in a hotel room. He'd called Abby. He'd spoken to her. A stirred, intense conversation. He tried to picture himself staring into her eyes, or holding her waist, but he knew those days were over.
If they couldn't be together, would they ever be friends? That was a more sensible question, he guessed. What other questions had he compared it to?
Why (and when) had it become so complicated? Without a moment's hesitation, he realized that both of those questions resulted in negative answers from his faults. His damn faults. He'd ruined everything. He'd known *why* he'd done those things, but not *why.* He was scared, he told himself a million times. He always thought that if either of them would back out of it, it would be Abby.
Apparently not.
He had ruined his life by taking a stupid roadtrip. Two, now, actually. 'Roadtrip.' That was the worst, most undone way to put it. He had run away. From everything he wanted. It struck him that he really had had everything he wanted. He'd do anything to get that all back, too. Abby by his side. Abby in his arms. Abby with him, in his bed, in his home...
"Hi."
Her solid voice and matching frown alerted him at once. She came toward him as he sat truly dumbfounded in the chairs. The bustle of that airport he'd been through once before awoke him and brought him back to more misery. A small unpleasant dizziness from standing meshed together with the chaos behind him and her face in front of his.
He nodded in reply, his eyes not daring to meet hers. She sighed.
"Where's your bag?"
"I didn't bring one," he spoke. His voice was low, too low for a whisper, but not harsh enough for a growling.
"What? You didn't bring anything with you?"
"Just my wallet," he said, astounded by his voice again, but not showing any recognition. "In my back pocket when I left."
Abby tilted her head, her eyes slightly squinting. She lifted his head, bowed toward the ground, with a firm hand. "Do you know how long you've been here?"
He nodded again, staring at her eyes now. They looked tired, so weary from when he'd last seen her. Or sometime before last, really. Their times had been rocky before he left anyway.
"Never mind," she said. "We have forty-five minutes before they start boarding - "
"Thank you for coming here," he said. "You didn't have to."
"Ha, I know," she said. He knew she was acting angrily on purpose. Not that he blamed her. And he wasn't really insulted. He wished he could rewind to those times before all of these. He wished so bad. It hurt now. Worse than before, now that she was standing here next to him.
"Have you eaten?"
He sighed. He shook his head and wiped his face down with one hand.
"Carter," she argued, "talk to me. This isn't easy for me right now. I don't need this."
He stood in place and nodded as she began to start away from the chairs, gesturing for their start to the allocated gate. He followed her, barely enthusiastically, and felt his head begin to spin.
--
The comfort from the chair beside the window was barely comfort at all. Needless to say, it wasn't the hotel bed that he'd mentally cried to for the last seven or eight days, but there hadn't been any real comfort in that either.
Abby sat beside him on the plane. She breathed harshly to herself. He wondered if she was nervous, or agitated or something. She would reach for a magazine in the front pocket of the chair, then put it back after glancing at it for a second. Then at once, she'd calm down.
He turned to her and watched her. Immediately she whipped around and said, "What?" It was almost a shout coming from her, but it didn't matter as the stewardess next to her interrupted.
"Can I interest you in a drink, ma'am?" she said with a smile.
"No," she said quickly. "Thanks."
"How about you, sir?"
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on Abby's hand. For no reason in particular, but just because.
She smiled again and walked away. He wondered if they got paid extra to smile, seeing as they did it so often.
"If you keep acting like this, they're going to think something's wrong with you," Abby reminded him in the same, harsh tone she'd kept all this time.
"There is," he said, turning toward her.
"What?" she asked. Same asperity.
"I ran away," he said unconvincingly. "I left you. I walked out and I knew I loved you. It was a choice I made for some stupid reason."
She looked at his face. He stared at her lips and waited for a word to escape them. Any single, shaking word to leave them.
-
Finally. I can't believe it took me forever to post that piece of crap...
:) me
Okay, now that *that* is over, here's something more, um, sane: I've been away for a loooong time. How long has it been, really? lol - But I had to get back here sooner or later... stand-alones make me sad. lol
Another question quickly: Is F4F.com gone then? Permanently? Are they gonna send an email to members or anything? Ha.
--
His feet still weighed him down like bags of sand. It'd been two days since he'd awaken from that barely conscious hibernation in a hotel room. He'd called Abby. He'd spoken to her. A stirred, intense conversation. He tried to picture himself staring into her eyes, or holding her waist, but he knew those days were over.
If they couldn't be together, would they ever be friends? That was a more sensible question, he guessed. What other questions had he compared it to?
Why (and when) had it become so complicated? Without a moment's hesitation, he realized that both of those questions resulted in negative answers from his faults. His damn faults. He'd ruined everything. He'd known *why* he'd done those things, but not *why.* He was scared, he told himself a million times. He always thought that if either of them would back out of it, it would be Abby.
Apparently not.
He had ruined his life by taking a stupid roadtrip. Two, now, actually. 'Roadtrip.' That was the worst, most undone way to put it. He had run away. From everything he wanted. It struck him that he really had had everything he wanted. He'd do anything to get that all back, too. Abby by his side. Abby in his arms. Abby with him, in his bed, in his home...
"Hi."
Her solid voice and matching frown alerted him at once. She came toward him as he sat truly dumbfounded in the chairs. The bustle of that airport he'd been through once before awoke him and brought him back to more misery. A small unpleasant dizziness from standing meshed together with the chaos behind him and her face in front of his.
He nodded in reply, his eyes not daring to meet hers. She sighed.
"Where's your bag?"
"I didn't bring one," he spoke. His voice was low, too low for a whisper, but not harsh enough for a growling.
"What? You didn't bring anything with you?"
"Just my wallet," he said, astounded by his voice again, but not showing any recognition. "In my back pocket when I left."
Abby tilted her head, her eyes slightly squinting. She lifted his head, bowed toward the ground, with a firm hand. "Do you know how long you've been here?"
He nodded again, staring at her eyes now. They looked tired, so weary from when he'd last seen her. Or sometime before last, really. Their times had been rocky before he left anyway.
"Never mind," she said. "We have forty-five minutes before they start boarding - "
"Thank you for coming here," he said. "You didn't have to."
"Ha, I know," she said. He knew she was acting angrily on purpose. Not that he blamed her. And he wasn't really insulted. He wished he could rewind to those times before all of these. He wished so bad. It hurt now. Worse than before, now that she was standing here next to him.
"Have you eaten?"
He sighed. He shook his head and wiped his face down with one hand.
"Carter," she argued, "talk to me. This isn't easy for me right now. I don't need this."
He stood in place and nodded as she began to start away from the chairs, gesturing for their start to the allocated gate. He followed her, barely enthusiastically, and felt his head begin to spin.
--
The comfort from the chair beside the window was barely comfort at all. Needless to say, it wasn't the hotel bed that he'd mentally cried to for the last seven or eight days, but there hadn't been any real comfort in that either.
Abby sat beside him on the plane. She breathed harshly to herself. He wondered if she was nervous, or agitated or something. She would reach for a magazine in the front pocket of the chair, then put it back after glancing at it for a second. Then at once, she'd calm down.
He turned to her and watched her. Immediately she whipped around and said, "What?" It was almost a shout coming from her, but it didn't matter as the stewardess next to her interrupted.
"Can I interest you in a drink, ma'am?" she said with a smile.
"No," she said quickly. "Thanks."
"How about you, sir?"
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on Abby's hand. For no reason in particular, but just because.
She smiled again and walked away. He wondered if they got paid extra to smile, seeing as they did it so often.
"If you keep acting like this, they're going to think something's wrong with you," Abby reminded him in the same, harsh tone she'd kept all this time.
"There is," he said, turning toward her.
"What?" she asked. Same asperity.
"I ran away," he said unconvincingly. "I left you. I walked out and I knew I loved you. It was a choice I made for some stupid reason."
She looked at his face. He stared at her lips and waited for a word to escape them. Any single, shaking word to leave them.
-
Finally. I can't believe it took me forever to post that piece of crap...
:) me