Well, well, well. If it isn't Alyssa Jones, making her first appearance in my fic. This chapter is really long, I apparently have some leftover Chasing Amy anger. I hope you enjoy and don't have at my head for it being too wordy. Thanks for watching! ;) And thanks for your great reviews, guys, it really brightens my day. :D
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
R for language.
Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Elsewhere in Jersey...
"Where are we going, exactly?" Banky asked. He was wandering side-by-side with Holden, talking about anything and everything except Bethany and Alyssa. Hooper came up occasionally in conversation, but Banky ended that when he could. He just wanted to stay away from all relationship topics if he possibly could. He was too scared as to where that could go.
"The Stash," Holden said. "They have the back issue of Madman that I want." He shook his head and smirked. "Classy book."
"The what?"
"Madman. A comic book," Holden said, very slowly, as if speaking to a small child.
"Fuck. I *know* what that is. It was only all you ever fucking talked about when we went to cons. I *wanted* to know where we were going."
Holden sighed, turning onto the street. "Brodie's Secret Stash. It's a comic book store."
"Like I care about that shit. You were the only one who cared about the 'art', about the gratification of seeing it in the stores. If you'll recall, *I* cared about the 'phat cash', as the two stoners would put it. That, and the gay jokes."
"You *are* a gay joke," Holden said irritably, and walked inside.
Banky paused, glaring at his friend's back, and followed.
And walked right into Holden.
"Christ! Are you Lt. Dan? Do your legs not work?" Banky whined, and stepped around a frozen Holden. "If I need intense physical therapy because of this little incident, I'll have you know that I fully expect you to pay..." he trailed off as he spotted what Holden was staring at.
Or rather, who.
In the back, the proprietor of the store --or at least, the guy who looked like the guy on the logo-- was in the back, chatting with Hooper, and...Alyssa.
"Holden? Are you okay?" Banky said softly. He didn't look it, that was for certain. The guy was kinda pale.
"I don't know yet," Holden said.
"C'mon, go over and say hi." Banky gave him a little shove.
But Holden stood fast. "I can't. Alyssa..."
"You're over Alyssa, remember?"
He looked at Holden. The guy was fidgeting, blinking rapidly, looking anywhere and everywhere, wringing his hands...Banky had never seen Holden like this before. He was almost...scared. It was creepy.
Slowly realization dawned over Banky, and he glanced across the room at Hooper --whom, like the rest of his little group, still hadn't noticed them-- to stiffen his resolve. He stared at the floor, and spoke slowly. "Bethany must mean a lot to you if you're too scared to face *Alyssa* of all people."
"Huh?" Despite the answer, or rather, lack of it, Banky knew Holden was listening.
"I mean, you're the dickhead who approached her amidst her fans to give her a comic you wrote about her, after a very depressing and somewhat humiliating breakup. And now, *years* later, just looking at her makes you shake like someone shoved the Energizer fucking Bunny up your ass."
"Hmm."
"It's Bethany," Banky continued. "You know it is. Bethany means a lot to you, hence the reaction, which is all the more reason you should go and just talk to Alyssa already. You're being a pansy ass bitch. C'mon," he said, tugged once at Holden's arm, and when Holden didn't move, marched over.
"Hoop!" Banky said, sounding quite enthusiastic but nonetheless giving Hooper LaMont a brief, platonic hug. Alyssa, who knew better than that, fixed Banky with a look.
"Still in the closet, Banky?" she said, and stepped in line for her own hug.
"Closet? What? No!" Banky said, glancing nervously at the store's owner, who was watching the whole exchange with interest. Banky, with a quick, apologetic look at Hooper, squeezed Alyssa tightly and tried (unsuccessfully) to cop a feel.
Alyssa laughed, and as she pushed him away, saw a slowly approaching Holden.
"Well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas Past!" she said with a grin, strode over, and gave the stunned man a hug. "Holden McNeil, it's been *ages*!"
"Hey...Alyssa..." Holden said, and looked away from his ex-girlfriend to offer a much nicer, much more comfortable greeting to the others. "Hooper X, what's up? Brodie! My man."
Alyssa frowned at Holden, but said nothing regarding his coldness. "Guess what? The 50th issue of Idiosyncratic Routine just came out." She grinned in a way that she knew Holden loved, and drawled, "D'ya want a signed copy..?"
"Uh, sure," Holden said, glancing at her, blushing, and looking away.
Alyssa looked to Hooper, who just shrugged, uninterested by the antics of the little straight boy. Banky and Brodie were in a bit of a staring contest with one another, and Alyssa could see why: the two held a definite, eerie resemblance to each other. "Holden, can I talk to you privately?" she asked.
"Uh...privately?" Holden half-said, half-squeaked. Funny, she thought the guy was way past puberty.
What on earth was wrong with the guy? Alyssa wondered. "Yeah. *Privately*," she said, grabbed his arm, and dragged him past the red curtains into the adult section. After kicking the solitary patron out with an angry glare, she turned to her ex with a mixture of fury, pity, and confusion.
"What's going on with you?" she demanded.
Holden looked at the floor. "Nothing."
"Like fuck, 'nothing.' There's something seriously wrong with you and I want to know what. I want to know why you're so uncharacteristically monosyllabic, and why you won't even *look* at me." As she said this, she pushed him into a chair, grabbed his chin, and forced him to look at her. "I thought we were friends, Holden," she said softly, her voice filled with hurt.
"We *were* friends," he said darkly, and held the gaze.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. Alyssa groaned loudly, grabbed a porno mag from over his head, and threw it angrily at his chest. Holden flinched and looked away as Alyssa had a silent rant of frustration, throwing another magazine and crying out not unlike a wounded animal.
Finally, she sat down. She looked at her hands, she looked at her feet, she looked at the small mess she had made, and at last, she looked at Holden. "I read it."
"Read what?"
"Chasing Amy." She gave him pause for a comment, but he said nothing. "It was very nicely done. Drawn beautifully. A personal story."
Still Holden didn't respond.
"I loved it," she told him.
"You didn't call."
"No."
"I told you to call when you'd read it." He looked away.
"Holden," she said, in a voice so serious he had to look at her again. "No, I didn't call. Do you know why?"
"Of course I don't know why. Would I have fucking *asked* if I'd known why?"
"Don't get like that with me," she said in a warning tone, then exhaled. "I didn't call because you *wanted* me to call."
"Oh, that's nice. That's fucking wonderful, Alyssa. Thank you. Thank you so much for this enlightening conversation," Holden said, glaring at her, and rising to his feet.
"Holden, please. You heard me out at the hockey rink and then you stupidly walked away. At least hear me out now before you make the mistake of leaving again."
"Oh, it's about *that* again, is it?" Holden exploded. "About how I'm a fuck up? Listen, Alyssa, I know I'm a fuck up. I fucked up the two most important relationships in my life, and don't think for a fraction of a second that I don't regret what I've done to the both of you, or what a total dick I've been."
"Please..." Alyssa was dangerously close to tears. Despite his anger, Holden didn't want to make Alyssa cry again. Part of him (...all of him...who knew?) still loved her and still hated to see her hurt and still hated to know that he was the one causing that pain.
He sat down. Or rather, in a way to save his dignity, threw himself moodily in the chair in a way that suggested that he was *this* close to leaving, if he didn't like what he heard. Which wasn't true, but his subconscious had a nasty way of trying to preserve his masculinity. Which was essentially why they weren't together in the first place; because he was a walking, talking, textbook example of stupid macho posturing. And God knew he hated himself for it.
"Holden, I didn't call you because I knew what it would lead to," she said softly. "I loved the comic, I really did. And I wanted to forgive you, I wanted to so much."
"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, bitterly but honestly.
"You think I don't know that?" she said, and Holden winced. "If I'd called, I would've forgiven you," Alyssa continued. "And I would have apologized, and you would have apologized, and the cycle would have begun anew."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"Yes, Holden. That is a bad thing. Because we're wrong for each other. You know that."
"No, I don't know that! I know that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you're the only thing that's ever been right in my life!"
"I didn't want to go back into 'us, we' again. I didn't want to do that to you because I knew it would never be enough for you because I wasn't what you wanted."
"You were everything I wanted."
"Be that as it may, our *relationship* wasn't what you wanted. You said it yourself; you wanted to be a 'normal couple'. And we never would have been, and we both know it. And I always knew, that no matter what you said about it, or how you acted, your relationship with Banky was more important than me, than anything. And I wanted to give you a chance to get that back, if nothing else. Because in the end, your friendship with him was higher on the list than any other relationship you had," Alyssa finished softly, tears in her eyes.
Holden didn't answer for a long time. He knew, he always had, that Alyssa was right. He loved her. Loved her presently, loved her in the past, he wasn't sure anymore. It blended together in his mind, a cataclysmic jumble of colors and emotions and no conscious thought.
"I met someone."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, he wondered whether he'd actually said it out loud or just thought it. But he must have; she was nodding. "That's good."
"I like her a lot. But I wanted to tell you."
"Are you asking for my blessing, Holden?"
"No." He paused, and then weighed it out in his mind. That *was* why he was here, wasn't it? "Yeah."
"We're over, Holden, do you realize that? We have been for years now."
"Of course I realize that. It's been the major source of grief in my life for a quite some time."
"Then you understand that you don't *need* my blessing. I care for you, Holden. You know that. A part of me even still loves you, though never quite in the way I once did, and never quite in the way you'll want. All I want is to see you happy. I've moved on; I've been waiting for you to do the same. If you're looking for my blessing, you have it. But you don't need it."
"Thank you," Holden said. He got up, gave her a quick hug, and was gone before she knew how to tell him he was welcome.
"takin this hot, steamy, wet, soapy shower. the door is open. vistors welcome" how many of you seriously use this message? too many.... people will either think, "wow that person is naked. i wish i was there" or "i'd rather die than see that". but they don't come over, so either way you're still "copin this shower solo"
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
R for language.
Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Elsewhere in Jersey...
"Where are we going, exactly?" Banky asked. He was wandering side-by-side with Holden, talking about anything and everything except Bethany and Alyssa. Hooper came up occasionally in conversation, but Banky ended that when he could. He just wanted to stay away from all relationship topics if he possibly could. He was too scared as to where that could go.
"The Stash," Holden said. "They have the back issue of Madman that I want." He shook his head and smirked. "Classy book."
"The what?"
"Madman. A comic book," Holden said, very slowly, as if speaking to a small child.
"Fuck. I *know* what that is. It was only all you ever fucking talked about when we went to cons. I *wanted* to know where we were going."
Holden sighed, turning onto the street. "Brodie's Secret Stash. It's a comic book store."
"Like I care about that shit. You were the only one who cared about the 'art', about the gratification of seeing it in the stores. If you'll recall, *I* cared about the 'phat cash', as the two stoners would put it. That, and the gay jokes."
"You *are* a gay joke," Holden said irritably, and walked inside.
Banky paused, glaring at his friend's back, and followed.
And walked right into Holden.
"Christ! Are you Lt. Dan? Do your legs not work?" Banky whined, and stepped around a frozen Holden. "If I need intense physical therapy because of this little incident, I'll have you know that I fully expect you to pay..." he trailed off as he spotted what Holden was staring at.
Or rather, who.
In the back, the proprietor of the store --or at least, the guy who looked like the guy on the logo-- was in the back, chatting with Hooper, and...Alyssa.
"Holden? Are you okay?" Banky said softly. He didn't look it, that was for certain. The guy was kinda pale.
"I don't know yet," Holden said.
"C'mon, go over and say hi." Banky gave him a little shove.
But Holden stood fast. "I can't. Alyssa..."
"You're over Alyssa, remember?"
He looked at Holden. The guy was fidgeting, blinking rapidly, looking anywhere and everywhere, wringing his hands...Banky had never seen Holden like this before. He was almost...scared. It was creepy.
Slowly realization dawned over Banky, and he glanced across the room at Hooper --whom, like the rest of his little group, still hadn't noticed them-- to stiffen his resolve. He stared at the floor, and spoke slowly. "Bethany must mean a lot to you if you're too scared to face *Alyssa* of all people."
"Huh?" Despite the answer, or rather, lack of it, Banky knew Holden was listening.
"I mean, you're the dickhead who approached her amidst her fans to give her a comic you wrote about her, after a very depressing and somewhat humiliating breakup. And now, *years* later, just looking at her makes you shake like someone shoved the Energizer fucking Bunny up your ass."
"Hmm."
"It's Bethany," Banky continued. "You know it is. Bethany means a lot to you, hence the reaction, which is all the more reason you should go and just talk to Alyssa already. You're being a pansy ass bitch. C'mon," he said, tugged once at Holden's arm, and when Holden didn't move, marched over.
"Hoop!" Banky said, sounding quite enthusiastic but nonetheless giving Hooper LaMont a brief, platonic hug. Alyssa, who knew better than that, fixed Banky with a look.
"Still in the closet, Banky?" she said, and stepped in line for her own hug.
"Closet? What? No!" Banky said, glancing nervously at the store's owner, who was watching the whole exchange with interest. Banky, with a quick, apologetic look at Hooper, squeezed Alyssa tightly and tried (unsuccessfully) to cop a feel.
Alyssa laughed, and as she pushed him away, saw a slowly approaching Holden.
"Well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas Past!" she said with a grin, strode over, and gave the stunned man a hug. "Holden McNeil, it's been *ages*!"
"Hey...Alyssa..." Holden said, and looked away from his ex-girlfriend to offer a much nicer, much more comfortable greeting to the others. "Hooper X, what's up? Brodie! My man."
Alyssa frowned at Holden, but said nothing regarding his coldness. "Guess what? The 50th issue of Idiosyncratic Routine just came out." She grinned in a way that she knew Holden loved, and drawled, "D'ya want a signed copy..?"
"Uh, sure," Holden said, glancing at her, blushing, and looking away.
Alyssa looked to Hooper, who just shrugged, uninterested by the antics of the little straight boy. Banky and Brodie were in a bit of a staring contest with one another, and Alyssa could see why: the two held a definite, eerie resemblance to each other. "Holden, can I talk to you privately?" she asked.
"Uh...privately?" Holden half-said, half-squeaked. Funny, she thought the guy was way past puberty.
What on earth was wrong with the guy? Alyssa wondered. "Yeah. *Privately*," she said, grabbed his arm, and dragged him past the red curtains into the adult section. After kicking the solitary patron out with an angry glare, she turned to her ex with a mixture of fury, pity, and confusion.
"What's going on with you?" she demanded.
Holden looked at the floor. "Nothing."
"Like fuck, 'nothing.' There's something seriously wrong with you and I want to know what. I want to know why you're so uncharacteristically monosyllabic, and why you won't even *look* at me." As she said this, she pushed him into a chair, grabbed his chin, and forced him to look at her. "I thought we were friends, Holden," she said softly, her voice filled with hurt.
"We *were* friends," he said darkly, and held the gaze.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. Alyssa groaned loudly, grabbed a porno mag from over his head, and threw it angrily at his chest. Holden flinched and looked away as Alyssa had a silent rant of frustration, throwing another magazine and crying out not unlike a wounded animal.
Finally, she sat down. She looked at her hands, she looked at her feet, she looked at the small mess she had made, and at last, she looked at Holden. "I read it."
"Read what?"
"Chasing Amy." She gave him pause for a comment, but he said nothing. "It was very nicely done. Drawn beautifully. A personal story."
Still Holden didn't respond.
"I loved it," she told him.
"You didn't call."
"No."
"I told you to call when you'd read it." He looked away.
"Holden," she said, in a voice so serious he had to look at her again. "No, I didn't call. Do you know why?"
"Of course I don't know why. Would I have fucking *asked* if I'd known why?"
"Don't get like that with me," she said in a warning tone, then exhaled. "I didn't call because you *wanted* me to call."
"Oh, that's nice. That's fucking wonderful, Alyssa. Thank you. Thank you so much for this enlightening conversation," Holden said, glaring at her, and rising to his feet.
"Holden, please. You heard me out at the hockey rink and then you stupidly walked away. At least hear me out now before you make the mistake of leaving again."
"Oh, it's about *that* again, is it?" Holden exploded. "About how I'm a fuck up? Listen, Alyssa, I know I'm a fuck up. I fucked up the two most important relationships in my life, and don't think for a fraction of a second that I don't regret what I've done to the both of you, or what a total dick I've been."
"Please..." Alyssa was dangerously close to tears. Despite his anger, Holden didn't want to make Alyssa cry again. Part of him (...all of him...who knew?) still loved her and still hated to see her hurt and still hated to know that he was the one causing that pain.
He sat down. Or rather, in a way to save his dignity, threw himself moodily in the chair in a way that suggested that he was *this* close to leaving, if he didn't like what he heard. Which wasn't true, but his subconscious had a nasty way of trying to preserve his masculinity. Which was essentially why they weren't together in the first place; because he was a walking, talking, textbook example of stupid macho posturing. And God knew he hated himself for it.
"Holden, I didn't call you because I knew what it would lead to," she said softly. "I loved the comic, I really did. And I wanted to forgive you, I wanted to so much."
"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, bitterly but honestly.
"You think I don't know that?" she said, and Holden winced. "If I'd called, I would've forgiven you," Alyssa continued. "And I would have apologized, and you would have apologized, and the cycle would have begun anew."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"Yes, Holden. That is a bad thing. Because we're wrong for each other. You know that."
"No, I don't know that! I know that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you're the only thing that's ever been right in my life!"
"I didn't want to go back into 'us, we' again. I didn't want to do that to you because I knew it would never be enough for you because I wasn't what you wanted."
"You were everything I wanted."
"Be that as it may, our *relationship* wasn't what you wanted. You said it yourself; you wanted to be a 'normal couple'. And we never would have been, and we both know it. And I always knew, that no matter what you said about it, or how you acted, your relationship with Banky was more important than me, than anything. And I wanted to give you a chance to get that back, if nothing else. Because in the end, your friendship with him was higher on the list than any other relationship you had," Alyssa finished softly, tears in her eyes.
Holden didn't answer for a long time. He knew, he always had, that Alyssa was right. He loved her. Loved her presently, loved her in the past, he wasn't sure anymore. It blended together in his mind, a cataclysmic jumble of colors and emotions and no conscious thought.
"I met someone."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, he wondered whether he'd actually said it out loud or just thought it. But he must have; she was nodding. "That's good."
"I like her a lot. But I wanted to tell you."
"Are you asking for my blessing, Holden?"
"No." He paused, and then weighed it out in his mind. That *was* why he was here, wasn't it? "Yeah."
"We're over, Holden, do you realize that? We have been for years now."
"Of course I realize that. It's been the major source of grief in my life for a quite some time."
"Then you understand that you don't *need* my blessing. I care for you, Holden. You know that. A part of me even still loves you, though never quite in the way I once did, and never quite in the way you'll want. All I want is to see you happy. I've moved on; I've been waiting for you to do the same. If you're looking for my blessing, you have it. But you don't need it."
"Thank you," Holden said. He got up, gave her a quick hug, and was gone before she knew how to tell him he was welcome.
"takin this hot, steamy, wet, soapy shower. the door is open. vistors welcome" how many of you seriously use this message? too many.... people will either think, "wow that person is naked. i wish i was there" or "i'd rather die than see that". but they don't come over, so either way you're still "copin this shower solo"
