Waiting in Moments
Chapter: 3 Nine Days of Clasping A Bottle in the Wrong Hand
Summary:
Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.
"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese
A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.
"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman
Somewhere in a parallel universe Cappie's evil twin is laughing mercilessly at him. Actually, he's pretty sure that he would be laughing at himself right now, but that would require an out of body... something because his frown lines show no sign of easing off his face.
Beneath his furrowed brows, and downward tilted mouth he tries to find a spark of self deprecating humour. He is literally sitting on the couch twiddling his thumbs; ten days ago he would have peed himself laughing if he had stumbled on any of his brothers doing the same. At this moment in time however, he finds himself caught on self deprecating, the humour just out of his grasp.
So he continues to sit, restless and exhausted all at once, thumbs twiddling, arms resting, leg twitching, eyes closed to the world.
This ...situation would be so much easier to deal with if he actually had something to do. A two week social calendar suspension, fuck that! Kappa Tau needed a party, more importantly he needed another party; his fingers are literally itching to plan something, his mind eager to focus on anything but last week and his current romantic dilemma. Moreover, he feels another party is needed to replace the bitter taste the end of the world drama left in his mouth.
In his film studies class they had looked at finding the perfect moment out of one hundred takes. In his mind's eye he directed his memory again and again until only the closet setting remained the same, he would push her in to the closet, or he would kiss her back, or she would never show up to begin with. One hundred times over in his memory and the moment never felt right.
He lets out a sigh and opens his eyes and resists the urge to slap himself for handling this like such melodramatic child. He has never been one to brag about his willpower but holy crap, he can't even control his thoughts enough to avoid thinking about it for one fucking second.
He just really, really, really, needs something to focus on right now; like right this second before he pulls his hair out and pulls up her number on speed dial.
Parallel universe Cappie is writing one hundred "I Told You So's " on neon coloured post-its and pasting it to his mirror for pathetic yearning Cappie to witness through the looking glass.
In a moment of desperation – a feeling becoming more and more frequent during resting periods- he had dragged his book bag downstairs and now as he opens it he is momentarily stunned at how ...childish, and desolate his attempts are to avoid the situation.
He is not taking control, he is avoiding it. He is not dealing with it, he is distancing himself as much as physically possible. And what strikes him as odd is that he has avoided the harsh and the emotional his whole life and although this situation has rendered him a nervous wreck, he has no desire to take control. Some part of him wants to avoid this, and every single particle in his body doesn't want to deal with it, at least not now.
Frantically, he opens his bag and pulls out the first book.
Women's Studies.
He chokes. Parallel Universe Cappie Google's -or rather Elgoog's- the definition of irony.
And then he hurls the book at the nearest wall, the resulting thump ringing in his ears. So eager he was to ignore all the implications and feelings and actions that would arise out of merely thinking about the situation, he had almost considered studying. If that in itself did not speak volumes in regards to his predicament, than the fact that he pulled out a book from their one shared class was either a cruel, cruel twist of fate, or a sign. And if it's the latter then he is ignoring it and driving through a red light. Can't a college boy have one moment that does not revolve around a girl, this girl, THE girl?
Evil Cappie rips a strip of tape with his teeth and posts a picture of her on the mirror just beneath a yellow post it; "I Told You So".
He drags his eyes to the ceiling and contemplates counting ceiling tiles before remembering that he makes fun of people who do that. The TV is on in front of him, but he has spent the last few days in a cycle from one screen to another- switching the game console in his hand for a glass of beer, and lumpy couch for a hard bar stool- and to be honest he just can't bring himself to start it again.
He wonders where she is and what she is doing. He wonders if she still has the picture of him, herself and Evan from another life. Last time he checked it lay folded in her jewellery case; in his mind's eye he pictures it in a thousand little pieces lying in a trash can above tissues and magazines and below a glass container that could probably be recycled, were it not for the half inch of vodka lurking in the bottom.
His hands clench and he considers calling Rusty to borrow a Rubik's or something equally nerdy, time consuming and most importantly mentally stimulating-read: distracting. All geekiness aside, he knows that calling Rusty is out of the question; his little brother chose now to side with his older sister and although he still has the authority to call him out for it, he doesn't have the heart, and he doesn't have the strength to stomach the repercussions he would face from at least one, if not both of the Cartwright's.
"You okay Cap?"
Beaver's entrance is a welcomed distraction, and the rush that fills him at the prospect of something to occupy him is almost embarrassing.
"Yeah man I'm fine, you?"
His blonde friend looks sceptical and peers at him intently while taking a sip from the ever present red cup.
"To be honest dude...you look like you've been dumped"
The flash of irony strikes so fast he feels as if he's been punched in the gut, and his insides squirm while he attempts to turn his grimace into a gritty smile. He hasn't told any of his brothers about what happened, to be honest he knows all of them will find out soon enough anyway – Rusty never could keep a secret, and god knows what his sister told him- but for the time being he would rather sulk along in this, not even Beaver would side with him on this, they had watched him suffer for too long to understand his reasons for saying no. In fact if pressed he doubts he could rationalize his own reasons for saying no, whatever he was feeling at the time, seems a pathetic shadow to the amount of grief he is experiencing now.
After the world's end ,the Kappa Tau's had woken him with raucous laughter when they spotted him passed out in his own vomit, hunched in a fetal position on the bathroom tiles, a situation that even the most sensible of the brothers had wound up in enough times that no one suspected he may have purposely drunk himself into a coma. They did not suspect his heartbreak and he offered them no evidence to believe otherwise.
" Beav in order to get dumped , I'd need a girlfriend in the first place and you and I both know how well the single life is agreeing with me"
Although spoken with true frat boy bravado, he tenses all his muscles to avoid cringing at his own words. So forced and brittle he can't help but pick at them in his head, can't help but break them apart like little bones; frail and hard at once. He imagines plunging them in, ripping out his heart and watching it pulse on the coffee table.
Beaver takes another irritatingly sceptical sip of his drink.
"Right..."
He needs something to fill the silence that Beaver has let linger is if to say all the things that they both are thinking. He struggles to control the path of his thoughts; this rock face he has been scaling has fewer handholds and the higher he gets the more likely it is that he'll slip and fall back in to memories of her and the sickening images of the fallout.
He eyes the cup in his friend's hand.
"Wouldn't you say that... three in the afternoon is just a little too early to be drinking?"
Both Beaver and parallel universe Cappie send him a look as if to ask "What are you on?"
"Just because we can't have parties doesn't mean we don't drink. And weren't you the one sneaking Baileys into your coffee last week? What gives buddy? Your hiding out in your room, so I'm guessing it's about a girl, but you're not cleaning so I'm guessing it's not Casey but You also haven't been seeing any girl for more than one date so maybe it is her...What's going on man"
Suddenly he is sick of all this. There was no fight, no harsh words. That had been weeks ago, This...situation was barely a situation if he considered that they weren't even speaking before. This wasn't a breakup, he wasn't dumped, and this was merely a glitch in the machine he had been crafting to shut down her tractor beam. He needs to get over her, but mostly he needs to get over himself and stop acting like a heartbroken girl.
And that would require what he feels he needs most of all:
Beer, Friends, Babes and Food ( in no particular order).
When he speaks he is smiling, and he hopes that it fills out his hollow words.
"You're right Beaver, no use skulking around, no parties' means more time at Dobblers. Call the boys up; our livers are in dire need of pickling"
Beaver being the gentle giant that he is, seems to understand that now is not the time to question anything he says right now, and softens his gaze as he brings the cup once again to his lips.
"Okay, whatever you say Cap, I'll call the brothers and lets meet in half an hour I guess" .
He feels elated, finally something to do. Screw the fact that this has been his exact routine for the past nine days, screw the fact that tomorrow will probably play out the same. Screw the fact that he will probably end up being carried home, he wants it, relishes it and can't wait for the first rush of a buzz to cloud over the sharp edges he has been carrying for the past nine days.
Evil parallel universe is blowing smoke rings with a knowing look in his eye, sensing the outcome and judging him for it. He scribbles the word "child" onto a post it and sticks it right at eye level.
Dobblers. A beer in one hand, a phone number in the other.
He smiles, he drinks, he laughs, he drinks, pats Wade on the shoulder after he imitates a professor, he drinks.
He is doing, is interacting, is out with the boys; a normal healthy frat boy. He is reckless and is feeling the thrill.
He is elated.
But it is a false high, and he doesn't need a mirror to recognize the emptiness starting back at him.
He drinks.
AN: I am just not completely happy with how this chapter ended up coming out . But....
Anyways if this seems slow, and as if the characters have been brooding for far too long I'm sorry, it's a little tedious. However I am basing the timeline roughly on the amount of time it took for me to get over my ex, and eventually repair our relationship ( we're friends now though and not nearly as epic as caseyandcap haha)
I can promise that Cap and Case will have "moments together" soon, and eventually happy ones at that.
I just can't promise how long it will take to get there, perhaps several more chapters of them recognizing what needs to be changed withion themselves before they consider changing how they relate to each other.
PLEASE review, it truly is the reasons I get inspired to post future chapters.
-Merci