Author's note: Oh, I hope I got my tenses right this time! I'm terrible with those, but bear with me, I'll get better with time. This follows on from What I Want. I hope that I didn't divert too much away, because I have a tendency to forget what I wrote in connecting fics sometimes. My head is so jumbled up with ideas, sometimes they manifest themselves at the wrong time. Not sure about the ending either, I didn't want to make it too heavy so I gave it a more playful (not even sure if that's the right word for it! teehee) quality, I think. You just know that from that kind of ending there has to be more to it, hey? Hehe. Much love to all my lovely readers and reviewers. I wrote this one especially for you guys! Enjoy!
He was staring out the window into the black sky, twinkling with artificial lights. It was another stormy day and the rain was running rivulets down the panes of glass. It was a perfect reflection of what he was feeling inside. Especially after his last encounter with her. She couldn't understand. Or wouldn't.
He had a gig, it was as simple as that. He couldn't let his band down, gigs were getting too few and far between to pass up. Even if it was for an engagement dinner.
Her engagement. To Gallant.
He couldn't let his band down. Or he wouldn't. What was the difference? The truth was he couldn't bear to be in the same room as her, and him, without feeling like he wanted to die.
Countless nights had been spent wondering why she was going through with it. She wasn't sure anymore, this much he knew. He wanted her. And he knew that she was thinking about it. He just knew she was.
Last night had been revealing, if nothing else. She was furious that he wouldn't even make the effort to be happy for her. To see that, for once, she was taking a step in what she thought was the right direction.
All because he said he couldn't make it to their little soiree. It had made her more angry than he ever thought possible, and he didn't know why. He wasn't anyone to her anyway.
Hearing him say that had added fuel to her temper. She couldn't believe how selfish and self-absorbed he was being, after all that she had done for him, and all they had been through together. How could he think that he didn't matter to her?
He didn't matter in the way that counted, and he couldn't live with less. As soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted them. But at the same time, he had been curious.
Curiousity is always well rewarded, whether bad or good. And he had not been disappointed.
Her whole demeanour changed. He knew she was trying to calm the tremble in her voice, as she softly reminded him that she had made her choice and that it was unfair of him to complicate an already complicated situation. She was referring to that night he appeared on Gallant's doorstep after having wandered around the city in the rainstorm.
It was a night that made him realise he couldn't give up to defeat. Not when there was still hope. And she had given him that hope.
When she didn't push him away, when she kissed him back and when she stared at him with that melting expression in her eyes as he told her what he had been waiting to tell her until it was already too late. He didn't know what had delayed him, but he was suffering for it now.
Soon she would be out of reach, and there was nothing he could do about it. Even now, after everything that had happened, she had almost permanently removed herself to Gallant's apartment. Her things were still there to remind him of her though. A bittersweet reminder of what he could have had.
Thinking back to last night, he was sure that he had heard uncertainty in her voice as she told him that she had made her choice. But maybe he had imagined it. Maybe he had imagined that her lips moved just as fervently over his as his were moving over hers. And maybe it was just in his head that he saw a glint of regretful longing in her eyes at his declaration.
He knew she was right about him complicating things further. Nevertheless, she had managed to rile him up with her words. Enough to have ignited his selfishness as he told her that it wasn't complicated at all. She was just ignoring her true feelings and probably heading toward a life of second-bests just because she was a stickler for propriety and doing the expected.
He had waited for an outburst, maybe even physical violence, as he spoke the words. And her eyes had turned molten, but there was nothing. Not a word to refute his accusation. She had spoken softly, and with barely contained emotion, when she asked him to leave.
Staring out the window he somehow felt that, maybe, last night marked the end. The end of his hopes. The end of a friendship. Just, the end. And he knew that it was probably all his fault.
He could barely move when he heard a knock on the door. The melancholia was seeping lethargy into his veins. Maybe they would just go away if they were greeted with silence. He wasn't in the mood for company.
But the person on the otherside of the door was insistent. He swore softly under his breath as he got up and ambled towards the offending rectangle of wood.
When the door swung open he felt a sense of deja vu. There she was, wet and bedraggled from the storm. And she was never more beautiful.
He was eternally grateful that, for once, it seemed some divine entity had heard his prayers.
And as he felt the push of her lips on his and the thrust of her tongue in his mouth, her hands cradling his face and the soft curves of her body crushed against the hardness of his he could form only one coherent thought.
Maybe he was in the mood for company after all.