Title: glass bottles
Pairing: Lily/Lysander
Author: Blue (BlueEyes444)
For: Tomato(NomNomTomato)
i.
Now the muse was his happiness
And he rhymed about her grace
And told her stories of treasures
Deep beneath the blackened waves
-The Poet and the Muse, Poets of the Fall
Six years ago
A cigarette dangles from red painted lips. The intoxicating smell of smoke is tattooed to the air. She is his drug. She is his life. She is his muse. She is his.
(everything)
She plays with a silky strand of carmine colored hair. She is the definition of beauty in his eyes. Long legs and creamy skin and eyes that shine brighter then any star; eyes that would put the city lights to shame. The sand is warm and so is the breeze and hands, promising forever, are intertwined underneath dancing moonlight with lipstick stains smeared across his white collar. Her touch is electrifying. And she's eighteen and he's seventeen.
(and they'll conquer the world together if they can.)
Her breath is hot and laced with smoke and he's whispering words into her ear, voice low, I love you (forever) is on the tip of his tongue.
But not on hers.
(At least, not yet.)
ii.
But tell me now
where was my fault
in loving you with my whole heart
-White Blank Page, Mumford and Sons
Five years ago
He wakes in bed with half his clothes on and holding a letter smeared with angry tearsand his breath reeking of alcohol. He lays there, and notes the trashed room and thinks that it's probably a good thing that he doesn't remember the night before.
His hand connects with a now empty glass bottle and his fingers curl automatically around it.
Sunlight trickles in through the window and a headache assaults his temples, a result of what he assumes was (another) hard night of drinking.
Ignoring the pounding in his temple, his eyes mechanically fall to the crumpled paper in his other hand. Her pretty scrawl leaps out at him
Dear Lysander...I'm sorry...it's not you...it's me. I can't do this...I'm sorry for all of this...I know it's sudden...maybe one day... I'll come back...miss you...sorry, again...love always, Lily.
A bitter taste fills his mouth.
Screw her.
His hand crumples the paper. Anger (hurt, pain, confusion) races through his veins. He hates (loves) her.
He sits up, his head swarms, his grip around the bottle tightening and she should have been here in his arms.
It's been six months and he can still smell her scent on his sheets, still hear her laugh, still feel her bare skin against his and the anger is replaced by grief and guilt and the famous what if threatens to overwhelm him.
And then as suddenly as they had come, they're pushed away by anger and anger is something he can control and right now, control is the only thing he has.
In a blur of movement he throws the bottle against the wall.
It shatters.
(Just like his heart did so many years ago.)
Oh, how he hates her.
(the line between love and hate gets blurred.)
iii.
I reach for you
I reach in vain
-Tears from the Moon, Conjure One
Four years ago
Another night, another bar, another girl,(Grace, remember? Or was it Kaily?) another attempt to drink away the pain (and forget her.)
(And he doesn't really feel anything. Not anymore. And that should bother him, but it doesn't. Not really.)
Alcohol induced kisses and in the morning, he'll wake up to cigarette burns across his tainted flesh.
A stranger's hands in his hair and he finds himself reaching for her in vain and in the dead of night, neither of them acknowledges her name falling from his lips.
It's a haze of whiskey and kisses and.
(He can't get her out of his head.)
iv.
And he said,
"There goes my life
There goes my future, my everything
Might as well kiss it all goodbye.
There goes my life."
-There Goes My Life, Kenny Chensey
Four years and nine months ago
He gets a letter that changes his life.
Hands shaking, stomach in knots, her familiar scrawl leaping out at him, he's reminded of the letter he got so long ago.
Dear Lysander,
I didn't want to tell you, but you have the right to know. Do you remember when you found that pregnancy test and I said it was Molly's? I lied, Lysander. I lied. It was mine. When I left you, I was pregnant. I named him Loki. He has your eyes.
I don't want you to find us, so please don't look. Maybe one day, but not now. Maybe I'm selfish, but we're happy, he's happy, and please, just leave us alone. I'm begging you. Please, just leave us alone. Don't look for us.
I'm so sorry. For everything.
-Lily
And all he can think is,
no, no, no, no, please, please, don't let this be happening, i can't, i have a son, i have a son-
He wants to shout, scream, yell, beg, plead, this can't be real, but it is, oh, it is, and he's a father.
He's. A. Father.
Tears stain the letter.
v.
I need to feel your hand upon my face
Words can relay nice, they can cut you open
And the silence surrounds and haunts you.
-Bloodstream, Stateless
Four years ago
It's been nine months and there's sleepless nights and worry filled days, and he doesn't know what to do. The letter is never far from his reach, or his thoughts.
Loki, Loki, Loki.
There's a little boy out there.
And she told him, begged him, to stay away and Merlin it's not fair, not fair because he has the right, the right to meet his little boy, and she tells him to stay away?
we're happy, he's happy, and please, just leave us alone.
The words echo in his head, haunt him, burn him and.
His breath smells once again like alcohol and the intoxicating smell of cigarette smoke is tattooed to his skin and a three day stumble lines his chin.
He doesn't know what to do and he's so confused, so hurt, so fucking numb.
His hand clenches the letter, reads it over again, the words imprinted in his mind, and suddenly.
He knows what to do.
vi.
Should I give up?
Or should I keep chasing pavements?
-Chasing Pavements, Adele
Three years and eleven and half months ago
He stares at a picture.
It is of a small boy. She's there as well. Both look happy.
His eyes take a moment to linger on her. A wide smile stretches her lips. He pretends, only for a second, she is smiling at him.
His eyes dart back to the boy.
He has your eyes.
That he does, that he does.
"What are you going to do, brother?" It's Lorcan. His brother's wife, Lucy, also Lily's cousin, was the one who gave him the picture.
He doesn't bother to look up at his twin, completely mesmerized with the boy in the picture. "I don't know, Lor." He traces a finger across the grinning form of the child. "He looks like me, doesn't he?"
Lorcan chuckles dryly. "Looks like both of us, you mean. And yeah, he does." His brother is silent and all Lysander hears is the thudding of his own heart against his chest.
"Do you still love her?"
This draws his attention and he looks up into familiar gray eyes.
"Yes." The answer falls from his lips without any thought and it should surprise him, but it doesn't, not really, because if he allows himself to think about it, he would realize that he had never stopped loving her in the first place.
"As much as I hate her for hurting you, for being a coward and running, for trying to deny the right to know your kid, I think you should go fight for her if you love her. Stop chasing and go fight." Lysander's gaze falls to the picture and he takes in her and he takes in...their son, and he knows. He finally knows.
"I will."
vii.
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life.
-I Knew I loved You, Savage Garden
Three years and eleven months ago
They live in a flat.
Somehow, he thinks, it suits her.
He is dressed in leather and black and he's clean-shaven and he wonders, hopes, prays, that she still likes that and his palms are sweaty and he's like a teenager on his first date but he's not, because he's been through this song and dance before, and his heart is beating hard against his chest and he's rocking on the balls of his fight, nervous, so very nervous.
"Easy, bro." His brother is there with him, standing awkwardly on his right, being his wing-man, here for support.
"Easy for you to say," he hisses out of clenched teeth, biting his lip so hard he can taste blood. Lovely. Just what he needs. A bleeding lip.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, staring at the thing that separates him from his past (his love, his child.) The door stares back at him, cold, uninviting, teasing him, taunting and it's all he can do to stop himself from screaming, from yelling, demanding it to stop.
He can't do it. He says so to his brother. He turns away.
"My God." His brother says this loudly, grabbing him by the arm, forcing him to look back at the door. "And to think you were in Gryffindor." Lorcan raises his fist, pounds rather loudly on the door and he winces, cringes, looks away after shooting a dark look at his brother. Can he still make a run for it or is it to late? He has a feeling it is.
The door suddenly swings up and he finds himself automatically looking up and there's Lily, all five foot, three inches and their eyes meet and his throat goes dry and he can't breathe, his words are lost and it's all too much for him.
His eyes take her in, and she's grown up, matured and he's reminded of all the time they've spent apart.
"Why, hello, Potter," Lorcan says cheerfully, and he knows his twin well enough to hear the scorn, breaking the spell and Lily suddenly scowls, eyes flashing and he steps an instant step back.
"What the hell are you doing here, Scamander?"
He's still a little speechless and can only stare blankly at her and well, to be honest, she's always done this to him.
"I came to see my nephew and offer support to my brother, Potter," Lorcan says smoothly. Lily grabs the door-frame with a hand. Anger sizzles in her eyes.
"You're not going to see him, Lorcan and I wasn't talking to you." Her gaze finds him and he is forced to look away in a desperate attempt to get his mind clear. "I told you not to come looking for us."
Suddenly, something inside of him snaps and he stares at her, voice controlled. "Then you shouldn't have told me about him. Did you honestly think I wouldn't want to see my own kid?" He raises a hand up when her mouth opens. He knows she wants to argue. "Call me when you want to have a mature, adult conversation about this. You know the number. I'll give you six months. Don't think I won't take this higher up." He pauses, takes a deep breath. "I love you, Lily Potter and I haven't ever stopped."
She stares at him, blinks, and surprise is in her eyes, and she freezes and their gazes lock and suddenly, the moment's over and she jerks back and slams the door behind her.
He hears the lock clicking. He has never hated a sound as much.
Sighing, he collapses against his brother.
Lorcan laughs humorlessly. "Well, that was fun, don't you think, little brother?"
viii.
Can, can, can you imagine a time when the truth ran free?
-Closer to the Edge, 30 Seconds to Mars
Three years and five months ago
He stares at the phone. His hand clenches around it. It's been silent for six months. Has she dared?
"I figured she wouldn't," Lorcan says easily from beside him, studying the floor with interest. He doesn't reply, can't, hoped she would call, knew deep down she probably wouldn't, and it hurts.
He rests his head on his brother's lap, comforted by the steady rise and fall as his brother takes in air. Lorcan runs his hand through his hair, something he did often in their childhood and carried it over to adulthood.
"Don't worry, baby bro. We'll figure it out," Lorcan continues, his fingers making soothing circles upon his scalp. It's relaxing.
And then his phone rings.
Heart skipping a beat, hands fumbling, he hits the speaker button, then the talk.
"Hello?" His voice is shaking. Just a little.
"It's Lily. " A pause. A heartbeat. "Can we meet up for a lunch in a hour? I have some things to tell you. I need to talk to you."
He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
He looks up. His brother gives him a a crooked grin.
ix.
I'm tripping on words
You got my head spinning.
-You and Me, [Extended Wedding Version] Lifehouse
They meet in a mutual place. A cafe. Always the big brother, always the protector, Lorcan invites himself along. He doesn't complain. He needs his brother. He'll always need him.
She looks sharp in tight jeans, and a red shirt that shows maybe just a bit more cleavage then it should.
He sits across from her. His brother on his right. The waitress brings him a coffee. Black and just the way he likes it. He stares at Lily questioningly. She stares back, unwavering. He swallows.
"Why are we here?" It's Lorcan. Always direct.
Lily leans back, sighing. "It wasn't you, Lysander. It was me. We were moving so fast and I was...I was scared." She exhales. " Then I found out I was pregnant and..." She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, she suddenly looks older, exhausted. "You didn't want kids. You were in school and. I don't know. I was scared and confused and so very young and I just ran. Ran and never looked back."
He stares at her, and tries to take it all in. She ran, left him without a word, for his own good? Seriously? "You left me for my own good?" He laughs humorlessly and it comes out as almost a choked sob. " You left me for my own good?" He is almost hysterical.
Lorcan puts a hand on his shoulder.
"You may have had your heart in the right place but honestly Potter?" Lorcan's voice shakes. A mixture of anger and pain for his brother. "He almost drank himself to death among other things. You ruined his life."
Lily looks down. "I'm sorry, Lysander." Her voice is quiet, meek.
"You apologizing isn't going to help anything now," he scoffs, standing up suddenly. Lorcan follows suit. "I need to think about this. I'll call you." He turns away.
Only Lorcan hears,
"I've never stopped loving you, Lysander."
x.
Hey lady, don't give up on me
Don't burn your heart out of love.
-Hey Lady, Thriving Ivory
Two years ago
He groans.
"I don't know what to do," he confesses to the pillow which he is currently face down in. His heart aches still.
"Well, I know I'm not the pillow but I think you need to man up and talk to the bitch." It's his brother.
He chuckles tiredly, the sound muffled by the pillow. "You think I should, huh?"
He doesn't have to see Lorcan to know he's rolling his eyes. "No, I don't. I just told you that line to hear myself talk." He thumps him on the leg.
He groans again. "Why should I?"
His brother exhales rather loudly. "We've had this talk before. You want to see the kid. And besides, you need to let that b-er, witch, yeah, know she can't get to you."
He sighs.
"You know what?" Lorcan's tone brightens. "I'll call for you." He raises his eyebrows into the pillow. A bad feeling settles into into his stomach.
"What are you-?"
"Hey, bitch. It's me, Lorcan. Come to Ly's apartment in...say, thirty minutes. Cheers!" The beep of his phone turning off is what draws him out of the pillow.
"What the hell?"
Lorcan smiles grimly. "Best get ready, brother. Hurricane Bitch is coming."
She's there in fifteen. There is coldness tattooed to the air.
He takes one look into her exhausted eyes and all the hurt and pain and anger lesson. "I love you." The words fall out without any warning.
His brother snorts. Her eyes widen. Silence settles around them.
And then,
"I love you too."
the silence breaks.
xi.
I wanna lay you down in a bed or rose.
-Bed of Roses, Bon Jovi
Present day
There's a ring on her finger, and love in her eyes, and most mornings, he wakes up and finds her passed out at the toilet, exhausted from retching and he'll carry her back to bed, whisper promises of forever in her ear andit's going to be a girl, mrs. scamander, i'm sure.
Lorcan's taunts have become teases and his brother and wife have settled into a comfortable\friendship and he wakes up to daddy and a little boy with his eyes.
In the middle of the night, he still reaches for her.
(But this time, he finds her.)