Disclaimer : I own nothing in this li'l ficlet.
Summary : Everyone has an identity. Everyone in the world has something they are, something they're known for. Guy's is shattered when he makes a terrible mistake. Who is he now?
Rating : PG 13
Author's Note : Another one-shot! I'm getting into them now. Weird. And I've never written Guy before soooo this could well suck.
Happy reading!! But not too happy. It's meant to be sad!
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Identity
Guy's POV
Everyone has an identity. Everyone in the world has something they are, something they're known for.
In my tiny little portion of the world, everyone has an identity. The Ducks are made up of individuals who fight to retain their individuality through something that defines them, whilst remaining a team.
Charlie is the captain, the leader.
Averman is the joker, the funny guy, the resident piss take.
Portman and Fulton are the hard guys, the tough enforcers who protect those they love with hearts of gold.
Luis is the speedster, both on the ice and with the ladies.
Russ is the smooth talking, sharp-witted street kid.
Adam is the star player, the one everyone loves and everyone respects.
Dwayne is the softy, the gentleman who'll do anything for his friends.
Connie and Julie are the girls, the brave ones who've made it in a sport dominated by males, the ones we all try to protect.
And me? I'm Guy Germaine. I'm a pretty good player, but not outstanding like Adam. I don't have any special skills or talents, like Dwayne or Kenny – I just keep my head down and get on with my job. I'm not particularly funny, I'm not tough, I'm not a total gentleman, I don't have a way with words.
So what's my identity?
Guy is Connie's boyfriend. The doting lover who will do anything for his girlfriend.
Including, it seems, breaking her heart.
That's me. That's who I am. "Guy Germaine – oh, that's Connie's boyfriend isn't it?"
Or at least that's who I was.
It's gone now, thanks to my complete and utter stupidity. One stupid mistake, one insane moment, and it's all over. I don't know why I did it, I didn't even like her. Sure she was beautiful, and she was sexy, but nothing special. Not like Connie. But still, I couldn't help myself. Hey, I am a guy after all.
But that's no excuse. All it took was one kiss – one horrible, tenderless, heart-wrenching kiss at an inopportune moment (Note to self : If you're going to cheat on your girlfriend, make sure it's when you haven't just invited her to your dorm) and it was gone.
I lost my identity.
She's walking towards me now. Man, she's beautiful. Her hair is flowing loose, shining in the sunlight. Her eyes are so blue – but they've lost their sparkle, thanks to me. Her lips are pink and perfect, but they don't smile any more.
I step forward, put my hand out, and utter a pleading "Connie" But she doesn't stop, she walks straight past me, staring ahead pointedly.
She's gone.
I've lost her, and I'll never forgive myself.
It's not just her outer beauty I love so much; it's what she is inside. Kind, loving, sweet, generous, caring. She was always what I wanted, ever since I was six years old and she stole my cake because it was "pink and pretty." Our relationship was always rocky, but I'd just started to think everything was settled. Three years. We'd been going steady for three whole years.
And I had to go and screw it up.
So who am I now?
For a while I have an identity. A different identity, and an undesirable one, but an identity all the same.
As I wander the halls I hear them. "There's Guy Germaine, the bastard that cheated on Connie Moreau." That's all I am, a cheating scumbag. But at least people still know I exist.
Then that's over too. Weeks pass, and as they do memories fade. New gossip replaces old, and a new guy replaces me.
Connie's new boyfriend. Charles Edward Hemmington the Third. Charles, never Charlie. An English snob with a freaking title, for crying out loud. I can't handle it.
Maybe I should so something about it. Then I'd have an identity. "Guy Germaine – oh yeah, he's the guy that killed himself." People will come to my funeral and cry, they'll remember me, they'll have to. In some ways it's tempting, but in other ways not. That memory would fade too, I'd be forgotten, another identity lost.
I don't dare.
So I'm stuck with who I am. Guy Germaine. The kind of name that people hear, and recognise, but can't put a face too. The kind of face that people see, and recognise, but cant put a name to. Nothing special.
I have no identity.
I'm nothing.
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A/N : Whether you review or not (and I'd love it if you did!!) thanks for reading!
Summary : Everyone has an identity. Everyone in the world has something they are, something they're known for. Guy's is shattered when he makes a terrible mistake. Who is he now?
Rating : PG 13
Author's Note : Another one-shot! I'm getting into them now. Weird. And I've never written Guy before soooo this could well suck.
Happy reading!! But not too happy. It's meant to be sad!
=
=
=
Identity
Guy's POV
Everyone has an identity. Everyone in the world has something they are, something they're known for.
In my tiny little portion of the world, everyone has an identity. The Ducks are made up of individuals who fight to retain their individuality through something that defines them, whilst remaining a team.
Charlie is the captain, the leader.
Averman is the joker, the funny guy, the resident piss take.
Portman and Fulton are the hard guys, the tough enforcers who protect those they love with hearts of gold.
Luis is the speedster, both on the ice and with the ladies.
Russ is the smooth talking, sharp-witted street kid.
Adam is the star player, the one everyone loves and everyone respects.
Dwayne is the softy, the gentleman who'll do anything for his friends.
Connie and Julie are the girls, the brave ones who've made it in a sport dominated by males, the ones we all try to protect.
And me? I'm Guy Germaine. I'm a pretty good player, but not outstanding like Adam. I don't have any special skills or talents, like Dwayne or Kenny – I just keep my head down and get on with my job. I'm not particularly funny, I'm not tough, I'm not a total gentleman, I don't have a way with words.
So what's my identity?
Guy is Connie's boyfriend. The doting lover who will do anything for his girlfriend.
Including, it seems, breaking her heart.
That's me. That's who I am. "Guy Germaine – oh, that's Connie's boyfriend isn't it?"
Or at least that's who I was.
It's gone now, thanks to my complete and utter stupidity. One stupid mistake, one insane moment, and it's all over. I don't know why I did it, I didn't even like her. Sure she was beautiful, and she was sexy, but nothing special. Not like Connie. But still, I couldn't help myself. Hey, I am a guy after all.
But that's no excuse. All it took was one kiss – one horrible, tenderless, heart-wrenching kiss at an inopportune moment (Note to self : If you're going to cheat on your girlfriend, make sure it's when you haven't just invited her to your dorm) and it was gone.
I lost my identity.
She's walking towards me now. Man, she's beautiful. Her hair is flowing loose, shining in the sunlight. Her eyes are so blue – but they've lost their sparkle, thanks to me. Her lips are pink and perfect, but they don't smile any more.
I step forward, put my hand out, and utter a pleading "Connie" But she doesn't stop, she walks straight past me, staring ahead pointedly.
She's gone.
I've lost her, and I'll never forgive myself.
It's not just her outer beauty I love so much; it's what she is inside. Kind, loving, sweet, generous, caring. She was always what I wanted, ever since I was six years old and she stole my cake because it was "pink and pretty." Our relationship was always rocky, but I'd just started to think everything was settled. Three years. We'd been going steady for three whole years.
And I had to go and screw it up.
So who am I now?
For a while I have an identity. A different identity, and an undesirable one, but an identity all the same.
As I wander the halls I hear them. "There's Guy Germaine, the bastard that cheated on Connie Moreau." That's all I am, a cheating scumbag. But at least people still know I exist.
Then that's over too. Weeks pass, and as they do memories fade. New gossip replaces old, and a new guy replaces me.
Connie's new boyfriend. Charles Edward Hemmington the Third. Charles, never Charlie. An English snob with a freaking title, for crying out loud. I can't handle it.
Maybe I should so something about it. Then I'd have an identity. "Guy Germaine – oh yeah, he's the guy that killed himself." People will come to my funeral and cry, they'll remember me, they'll have to. In some ways it's tempting, but in other ways not. That memory would fade too, I'd be forgotten, another identity lost.
I don't dare.
So I'm stuck with who I am. Guy Germaine. The kind of name that people hear, and recognise, but can't put a face too. The kind of face that people see, and recognise, but cant put a name to. Nothing special.
I have no identity.
I'm nothing.
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A/N : Whether you review or not (and I'd love it if you did!!) thanks for reading!