A/N: Haven't spread any angst in a while and I found this kicking around on my computer. I'm never above sharing the pain. 3x4 break up (song)fic ahead. Why are song fics never happy?
Disclaimer: I sure don't own them. If I did I'd be talented and rich.
Note: yaoi ahead…obviously. When have I ever done het? I'm adopting the policy that I shouldn't apologise or warn you about something I don't think is wrong, but so I don't scar up too many minds, you get a note. Ain't I generous? (Just say yes, it'll be a lot less painful if you do)
"Foolish Games"
You took your coat off and stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.
And I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you.
As I watched you getting soaked from the window of my apartment, not seeing you too clearly but imagining the outline of your chest under the drenched white shirt and what it might be like to peel that shirt away from your skin and to touch those rain kissed lips. That is, if you would even let me that close tonight. These days it was less and less certain. As long as I've known you I've felt there was some inner core in you. Something I can see but couldn't touch as surely as if I was standing on the wrong side of a locked window, and now it's gotten worse. Now there are times you place all of you behind a locked glass door. Look but don't touch.
You're always the mysterious one with
Dark eyes and careless hair,
The mysterious, silent one. The one I always wondered about. Your past, your family, even as I dreamed of running my hands through your hair, lying beneath you on white, soft sheets. Didn't know I would get that wish, and do you know that if I had a chance to do it over I'm not so sure I would want to get that wish. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, but those who lost have the double pain of living knowing what it is they are living without.
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care.
I was always amazed at how you could be both sensitive and cool. I always thought you're coolness was to hide the sensitivity. Soldiers don't really have time for sensitivity anyway, do we? But as the years passed I started to think the sensitivity was to draw attention away from your coolness. More and more these days I'm thinking that both are just roles you play and there's nothing there at all. Not even hate. Would this be easier if you hated me? Maybe.
You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather.
Some stupid little comment about the rain, when I could see you were soaked and could hear the rain battering off the windows in my apartment. I knew it was raining and you knew that, so why did you say it? Why? When there were so many other things you could have said. So many other things you should have said. There were things I should have said too, but after the words had left your mouth I found myself simply nodding and stepping back to let you in. Watching you silently.
Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees, and...
These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.
I wish I had the words to say all of that to you, but I don't. I don't even know where to start. Every time I see you something twists inside me and my heart bleeds a little more, but I'm too afraid to let you go. I'm not sure that wouldn't rip my heart clean out.
You're always brilliant in the morning,
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee.
How do you that any way? Look so good, sleep tousled in the morning and your eyes so bright and clear well I'm still half sedated by sleep, my hands fumbling with everything they touch.
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you.
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
Well your loved one because you only really had Cathrine didn't you? The only one from the cricus you managed to stay in contact with and you'd talk about her to fill up all the empty spaces. You spoke about her a lot. More than you ever used to. There were a lot more empty spaces than there once were.
As I clumsily strummed my guitar.
You'd teach me of honest things,
Things that were daring, things that were clean.
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean.
I hid my soiled hands behind my back.
Somewhere along the line, I must've gone
Off track with you.
Somehow you always managed to make me feel this way. That I wasn't good enough some how, that I could never reach the mark. Stained, imperfect, not worthy of the light. Guilt you could drive out of me in waves, shame inspired by a look, a careless word. Everything I was, everything my life has been seemed somehow wrong next to you. I was born to money, we both knew that. I thought you accepted it. So why did it make me feel like I'd lowered myself when I followed in my father's footsteps? Probably because you didn't seem half as willing to follow me.
Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else,
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself.
Not willing to follow me at all, and as I cling to you in the darkness, silent tears streaking my cheek that you don't even notice while you whisper sweet nonsense into my ear as you move against me I somehow know – I just know this is the last time.
These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.
You took your coat off,
Stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.