Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing… just… nothing.
A/N: So, you guys don't seem too hot on Maureen/Collins, but whenever I watch it, I keep noticing (or, perhaps, making myself think) that there's something there. So I'm just looking into that a little more, I suppose (:
Also, I know Miss Maureen may seem a bit out of character, but I'm going for the idea that this thing's made her grow up. Sort of an epiphany, I suppose. This is just her getting – and giving – some closure. Enjoy (as much as you can for a thoroughly depressing – and potentially very bad, I don't know yet – piece), and let me know how I did (:
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I love you.
I'm not afraid to say it. You were right, I used to be. I always found I had this uncanny ability to fuck everything up as soon as I said those three words, so I just stopped using them. Most of the time, I don't think I even meant them. You know me, I get myself all worked up and throw myself into things that I can't commit to. I act on impulses and overturn everything that's good for me… Because that's just too boring, too nice, too perfect. I'm not happy unless everything around me is ruined, chaotic because of what I've done.
Well, I guess it's safe to say that I've got what I wanted this time, right? I'm so pissed with myself, Pookie, but I can't help but laugh. I know I shouldn't - it's really not funny. I feel like I've cheated them, mocked them by letting this happen. I was never meant to join them, not like this. It seems strange to say, I know, but something else was meant to get me. Maybe a crowd-surfing moment that became a tragedy, or a big, blazing fire, or even a police shoot-out. Something dramatic, you know? You always said I was a drama queen. I never was offended when you said that to me. I am. That's why I just presumed I'd have a flashy death.
Yeah, of course I've thought about it. Haven't you? Haven't we all? We've been dropping like flies lately, and with everyone around us fading, it's hard just to count our blessings. Watching the death made me wonder; 'Why not me? Why am I still here?' I never got why it struck some people and not others, and how it could get so many in one group of friends. It's not fair. It shouldn't have gotten them, no, it shouldn't have. But it seemed… not right, but like it slotted in. Like that was how they were meant to leave us. Too early, my god, I know. But there was no other way. That was their way.
Not mine.
I feel like I've stolen something, like I've become a parasite. I know it's all my fault, I know that, and I'm so angry with myself. Not because I've got a time-bomb inside of me that's just waiting to go off, not even because I had to tell him that – against all precautions and all odds. I'm angry with myself for doing that to you, for being a skank who cheated on the love of her life with her best friend because she was too stupid, too sadomasochistic, really, to leave well enough alone.
I know you don't want me to tell you, but there's a few things I think you should know:
1. I loved him. Collins was my oldest and closest friend. I gave him my virginity and I gave him my body, I gave him my thoughts and fears and dreams. Then, when I had nothing else to offer, I gave him my heart. I loved him, Pookie, more than anyone or anything in the whole world. Until I met you. I loved him, yes, but not like I loved... love you.
2. It happened just after we got back together for like, the hundredth time. The night we found Mimi. When she was alright, everything became perfect. Well, that just wouldn't do now, would it? So I had to go right ahead and ruin it. I told you to go on home because I wanted to check on Mark and Collins, and then I'd pick us up some food, do you remember? "I'd hate to be alone tonight," I told you, thinking of my friends first… I left you alone that night.
3. Neither of us planned it. I know how it must look, because we had time to use protection. We must've stopped to think about it. I'm not denying that we did; you're way too smart for me to try and insult you by lying about that. We were talking about how we nearly lost Mimi, and then about Angel and we got really sad. And after one thing led to another, we stopped to talk about where we were going with it. We decided to sleep together, "one last time," we said. I thought I'd never have him again, because he wouldn't want to risk it. That's what he always said. And the one time we did, the one damn time…
Jesus, it's ironic, huh? Any other time, I guess it would've been fine. But I suppose that's just the universe's way of scolding me for it. A broken limb, facial deformity or going bald would've drummed the message right in there, but nothing but this could've been harsh enough. HIV, and now AIDS. They punished him for my mistake. He lived his last months knowing he'd infected me; I should've kept it from him. I ruined what little life he had left, and now I've hurt you. I wouldn't say I've ruined your life, I know I'm not that important to you, but I've hurt you and I should never have done that to you.
I'm sorry.
Just repeating that, I know, means fuck all. I can apologise until Elsie stops jumping over that damned moon, but what difference will it make? They're only words, and I have no idea how to show you that I mean them. I can't even tell you that I'd go back and change it if the opportunity fell into my lap, and I know that that will have made you scrunch your face up and shake your head, disbelieving. But I wouldn't, I couldn't. I wish he'd died without the burden of knowing that he'd infected me, and I wish I hadn't hurt you, but I… I don't regret it.
I don't think I have much else to say, except thank you. For making me get over my fear of 'those three words', for supporting me when a part of me died with him… for so many things. But Pookie, I must thank you, most of all, for forgiving me when I do not deserve it. I can see it in your beautiful brown eyes, that you forgive me, and that means more than I can ever possibly tell you.
I owe you so much, and yet, the only thing I can give you now is freedom. You have my love and you have my heart, so you don't need me anymore. I know you'll hate me for doing this, but after you've read this, I don't want you to come back, you understand me? Do not come back. I don't deserve you, and you deserve better. I won't be alone, but you will be if you dwell on me.
Just promise me one thing, Pookie? Sing for me. I hope that's not too much to ask.
Please, sing for me.
I love you.