I highly recommend that you listen to Mad by Ne-Yo (which inspired this story) while reading. Thank you, and enjoy ❤️
Moose was still trying to recover.
It sounds like he has some sort of post traumatic stress, but he's really just hungover from last week. Three days ago, LMNTRX won first place in The Vortex. It left him feeling melancholy, just like how he felt four years ago when World Jam was over. He missed the teamwork. The rush of dancing on stage. Real life felt ridiculous now that he was sitting on the couch on a Friday night, jabbing at his laptop. Dammit. To make up for his absences, his boss decided that it would be great if Moose wrote a month's worth of written reports. This is stupid. I'm an engineer, not a journalist.
Now don't get it wrong. He loves being an engineer—it's what he's been dreaming of doing since high school—but sometimes it can become too structured (Aha. Get it? Structured? Okay). He could easily have gone the other way and become a choreographer, but art isn't always steady. It's fun, liberating. But he wanted something that could keep his life with Camille stable for years, and that's a thing that dance can't provide. Sure, the last contest got him a few thousand bucks, but contests that big aren't always around. It would be the dream to dance for a living, but unfortunately you can't always get what you want. For now, it's just a hobby.
He and Camille moved in together last year in LA just after graduation. Moose ultimately became an engineer while Camille is training on the job to become a company psychologist. They got a car and a nice apartment, on top of that. Thankfully, everything worked out just like how they imagined it four years ago. Right now, life was amazing. Moose couldn't be any happier that he was able to check off one of the many goals he wanted to attain with the person he loved the most.
The doorknob clicks as he heard Camille come in. The heels of her tall shoes were tapping softly against the floor. That afternoon, she went out with her college friends for hours, which she didn't get to do too often. He looked at his phone. It was a few minutes to midnight. "Hey, babe," he said as she was setting her jingling keys down. In the corner of his eye, he saw her bright blue mini dress moving around as she walked. He loved that body-hugging dress. She's been wearing a lot of bolder, feminine things lately. He personally liked the little changes.
He finished typing in the last few words, then pressed save. Camille walks towards him and leans down. "Hey," she responded. He finally reached up to peck her lips, then his eyes widen as he noticed her straight hair. It's not its usual caramel brown color anymore.
It's dyed blonde.
It's not a platinum Barbie blonde, but it was still bleached blonde. And it was a huge difference, especially for Camille.
"Woah," he said. She smiled as she sat beside him, taking her black high heels off and stretching her toes. "What do you think of the new look?"
"It's pretty," he grinned, tucking the stray strands behind her ear. "It brings out the green in your eyes."
"I'm glad you think so," she giggled, then looked at his computer screen. "Working on the report?"
He nervously cleared his throat. "Yeah." He closed the program, trying to find something else to do.
She's starin' at me
I'm sittin', wonderin' what she's thinking
A couple days before the grand finals, The Vegas Incident happened. It was a bad time, something Moose didn't like to think about. Basically, this random blonde chick he danced with kissed him square on the mouth. He swore he didn't give the girl the wrong idea, but obviously the message wasn't crystal clear enough if the girl decided to kiss him there. He should have stopped when he saw it coming. As if it wasn't already bad enough, Camille saw it happen right in front of her. He ran after her back here in their LA apartment, and they had this emotional moment together. She was crying, but she wasn't angry. It was just pure sadness, and that hurt Moose more than anything.
To be perfectly honest, although he did agree that she looked even hotter with her new lighter hair, the color irked him a little. It was a reminder of that bad event. It reminded him of his stupidity, and the fact that he made her cry that night. It could have been any color, he wouldn't mind. Brown. Black. Pink. Just not blonde. Why blonde?
He swallowed. "So. Why dye it blonde?"
She leaned back on the couch and shrugged slightly. She set her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her chin on her hand. "I thought it would make me feel more confident."
"What's wrong with the caramel?" He always thought it looked like smooth caramel candy, even though she insists that it's just a light brown. And whenever she would wear the vanilla perfume that he loved, it looked even sweeter to him.
She chuckles, flipping the lock in front of her face. "There's nothing wrong with it. I just thought a change would be nice."
"Are you stressed or anything?"
She snorted, covering her face. "No."
He tried really hard to choose his words carefully. "Then... Why change it?"
"I don't know, Moose. The same reason you change up the toppings on your oatmeal in the morning?" Her voice rose. He could tell she's a little irritated now. Crap.
"You don't like it, do you?" She asked.
"You look beautiful, Cam," he said, then followed with a sigh. "It's just, you know. Different." He nervously smoothed his curls down. "Kinda like a trigger point."
She quirked an eyebrow curiously. She fiddled with the ends of her hair with her fingers. "What do you mean 'trigger point'?"
"You know. Blonde girls. Vegas, perhaps?" He mumbled slowly, looking down and shielding his face.
"Oh," she muttered, trying to hide her slight grimace. "Does it bother you?"
"Um. Not really..."
"Okay. So is there any problem with it?" She was pretty pissed now. He couldn't bring himself to say it, but she knew what he was thinking. It reminded him of that basic blonde chick, and she knew it.
He took her hand and wrapped it in his. He turned to face her. "Listen, Cam. You don't have to change because of what happened. You look beautiful just the way you are, okay?"
She scoffed, her forehead wrinkling. She took her hand away from him and folded her arms together. "What makes you think that's the reason I did it? Just so we're clear, I'm not trying to look like that bimbo to make myself feel better." She shook her head, feeling ridiculous that they were starting an argument over her hair color.
And what's even worse
That we don't even remember why we're fighting
His lips parted. Camille stood up and dragged her feet to the bedroom, taking her heels with her. He exhaled, rubbing his eyes stressfully. He leaned back against the couch and threw his head back. He just messed up, big time. His sweaty palms rubbed against his thighs. A few minutes later, Camille walked out of the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen in shorts and a thin cotton shirt. Her blonde hair was up in a loose high bun. She began to make herself a cup of tea, pouring hot water into the mug. Moose, in his camo shorts and white tank top, walked towards her. He rested his hands on the counter. "Cam. I didn't mean it like that, okay?" His voice was low and apologetic.
She stirred sugar in her cup, refusing to look at him. "What did you mean, then?"
"I thought you felt insecure. But I know now that that's not the case." He exhaled. "Maybe it's only in my head. It's just a big slap in the face, you know? For me, at least."
She paused, finally looking at him. She kept her voice sounding steady. "I thought we've been over this issue?"
"It's just still a pain to think about, alright? And the hair reminds me of it."
"So what do you want me to do?" She sounded sarcastic.
"I don't know. I'm not asking you to change it or anything like that. This is my problem."
"It's just hair, Moose. It'll grow back."
He exhaled impatiently. "You know what?" He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. He began to carelessly talk. "I know it's none of my business, but you should have asked me first before you did it." Immediately, he clapped his palm to his face, regretting what he just said. Idiot. He shut his eyes, throwing his head down. "I shouldn't have said that."
Camille forcefully dropped her arm to the side, her eyebrows meeting in anger. "Not everything is about you, Moose. It's my hair, and I can do what I want with it. Like you said, it's your problem. And it's not my fault that my hair reminds you of a mistake you made. I'm not the one who kissed the bitch."
He dropped his jaw. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down. He brought his hands in front of him, emphasizing his words. "Again. I didn't kiss her. She kissed me."
"That doesn't change anything, does it? It happened. And now I can't unsee it." She turned his back on him, standing on her toes to return the box of teabags in the cabinet.
"I didn't do it on purpose, Cam! It meant nothing to me. Nothing. It just happened, and I couldn't have done anything to stop it from happening. We've been over this!"
"You could have avoided it if you haven't been dancing with her like a big flirt. I'm just saying."
And it gets me upset girl when you're constantly accusing
We're fighting this war baby when both of us are losing
He pulled his hair in frustration. "Stop it, Camille. Just stop!"
Her hair whipped her cheek as she turned around. "Why are you so angry? You're the one who kissed the girl! You're not the one whose feelings got stepped on!" Her eyes began to water.
And now as I'm yelling over her, she yelling over me
All that that means is neither of us is listening
"How do you think I felt, Moose? I thought I was gonna surprise you. Then I see you locking lips with another girl." She inhaled deeply. "I know it wasn't your fault. But can you really blame me?" A forced scoff came out of her. She wiped the tears from her eyes, bringing her fingers to her face, when she winces in pain from the contact. She's been gripping the boiling hot mug for too long, and instantly her skin felt like it was burning. Moose sees her blistering red hands, then runs to her side in concern. He carefully takes her fingers, but she jerks away. "I can handle it."
"No. Just please let me do it," he mumbled, leading her to the sink. He gently held her fingers under the cool running water, handling her like she was a piece of breakable porcelain. Her sniffling could be heard over the noise of running water. He made her cry again, and he wasn't proud of it.
So both of us are mad for nothing fighting for
Nothing crying for
Nothing
But we won't let it go for nothing
When he couldn't take the unnerving silence anymore, he eventually breaks it. "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself for hurting you." His voice turned soft and deep. He gently massaged her tender skin. "And when I recall that day, all I see is you crying because of something stupid I did. I hate that."
Camille looked down, observing the tap water fall at the same time her tears did. He looked at her apologetically, but she returned the gaze with furious, crimson eyes. Her hands shook out of his hold. She stomped away and went inside their bedroom, slamming the door shut.
This should be nothing to a love like what we got
Moose was staring directly at the living room's ceiling at two in the morning, replaying what just happened in his head. He couldn't understand how everything unraveled so horribly in a matter of minutes, but he instantly understood what the door slamming meant. It meant that for the first time in their relationship, he was gonna have to sleep on the couch. It's not as bad as he thought though, given that the couch was pretty comfortable. It's just the fact that he allowed Camille to go to bed furious. Every guy knew not to do that to their girl. Not me, apparently. They hardly ever fought, so when they both realized it was happening, they didn't know how to stop it. All of the day's physical and emotional stress got to them, and that intensified their rage. He shut his eyes, angry at himself. He should not have said anything more. "You look beautiful" would have been perfect. Of course, he had to ruin it. Aggravated, he pulled his blanket over him, then put his arm over his eyes. He had to get through just this one night. I'll apologize again tomorrow and hopefully this will all blow over soon. Hopefully.
I know sometimes it's gonna rain
But baby can we make up now 'cause I can't sleep through the pain
"Moose," she quavered.
He removed his arm off of his face as he opened his eyes to see Camille in front of him, kneeling on the carpeted floor. He had no idea what was gonna happen. Her eyes looked swollen, her hair messy. And she was plainly staring at him, but he could clearly see the sadness in her eyes. "We can't go to sleep like this. Let's figure this out."
"Okay."
"If it bothers you that badly, I can re-dye it tomorrow."
"You don't have to do that, Cam. Just let me deal with it on my own. If it bothers me, then that's my problem."
"That's exactly the problem, Moose. We shouldn't allow each other to be left alone feeling miserable. I can't just sit here and let you be that way." She absently stroked the blister on her hand. Her grin appeared weak. "We should both work through this. 'Cause we're a team, remember?"
He smiled. "We are."
"I love you," she whispered. "I'm still upset, but I love you."
He sat up and stooped low to meet her eye. "I know. I love you, too." He took her by the elbows, careful not to touch her burned fingers, then pulled her on his lap. He cradled her in his arms, looking up at her exhausted face. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispered. He tenderly caressed her jawline. "I'm sorry." He softly kissed her cheek, feeling the smooth skin with his lips. "I'm sorry." He kissed her chin. "I'm sorry." He pressed his mouth on her skin. She could feel his warm breath. "I'm sorry." He continued to trail kisses all over her body. Her collarbone. Her shoulders. Her chest. The inside of her elbow, her wrist, her knuckles, all the while repeating the same words over and over. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
No I don't wanna go to bed mad at you
And I don't want you to go to bed mad at me
It took him a while to realize that his face warmed, his throat forming a huge aching lump. Soon, his face was damp from tears. "No," she whispered, cautiously wiping his tears with her thumb. She brought her hand down on his neck, cupping his jaw. She leaned down, resting her forehead on his. Her uninjured hand was holding on to his defined bicep. She tilts her head to the side and crashes her lips on his, tasting his salty tears. He snakes his hand around her waist, holding on. He was sure that he'd let go of his balance if she wasn't there for him to hold. Gently, he nibbled on her lower lip, making her smile. She returned with full force as he leaned back, startled by her sudden dominance. Carried away, she holds his face with both hands, when she jerks away in pain.
"We should get that bandaged," he said, sitting up. She rolled off of him as he quickly took a first aid kit from the kitchen. Camille observed him meticulously bandage her hand, handling it with utmost care. She couldn't help but smile. When he was done, she took his other hand with her free one. "Thank you," she said, pecking his lips again in gratitude. "But we really should go to bed now." His face lit up as he grinned lopsidedly. "You know? I really believed this would be the first couch sleeping experience," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
We can fuss and we can fight
Long as everything's alright between us
Before we go to sleep
Camille threw away her shirt, leaving her in a lacy bralet and boxer shorts. Moose took off his thick shorts and tank top as well, instantly feeling the cold air. He jumped into the bed, cuddling Camille for warmth. As he pulled her close by the waist, and as she wrapped her leg around his, they breathed in each other's familiar scent. Moose leaned in and quickly kissed her for the last time, before they finally closed their eyes in peaceful slumber.
Thank you for reading! It would mean so much to me is you left a review/comment. If I get enough reviews, I just might finally get the inspiration to write the post Step Up All In Moosille fanfic I've always wanted to.
And if you'd like to read more of Moose and Camille, I have written a story called One Month Later. Again, thank you ❤️