A\N: My 200th story!
This is a very dark TPT oneshot. Don't read if it's a trigger for you.
I'm having trouble writing Monique's POV in my new oneshot I'm currently writing so here is a TPT prompt with Monique and Caleb, maybe this will get my Monique muse flowing again. Enjoy, Angels. (Descriptions of of self harm and suicide)
Once he's stepped over the threshold into Monique's office, it's as if he's entered another dimension entirely. In her office the thoughts of schoolwork, rehearsals, the harsh words from the Ballet Master, the stress of the Academy, the drama between the classmates, the backstabbing, the lies, everything, just disappear as if it was just a figment of his imagination and it's him and her, it's just him and Monique.
In his life, he's only had three constant things: dance, his friends and Monique. These three things subsequently stopped him from doing anything stupid after he found out that his father was Killed In Action: dance took his mind off the grief that was plaguing him, his friends were there for him to listen and offer advice, and Monique… Monique saved him, saved him in ways he couldn't even begin to thank her for. She was his saviour. She stopped him from putting a knife or razor to his wrists again and slitting them and watching as his blood drained out of him. He still remembers the day she stopped him from cutting deep enough, the day she stopped him from ending it all.
Flashback:
It had been months since he was told that his father was dead and the pain hadn't gone away, if anything it had intensified so much so that nothing could help him anymore: not dance, not his friends, not Monique, especially not Monique.
Monique. His mind thought as the blonde woman flashed to the forefront of his mind. It was her who told him about his father, she wouldn't allow anyone else to tell him, not his father's Commanding Officer, and not any of his unit, she wanted to be the one to tell him. She had told him gently that his father was dead and brought him into a hug while he let tears slip down his face until the tears turned into sobs. Monique didn't say anything, she had just sat there, hugging him, letting him cry until he couldn't anymore.
The dancer held a razor in his hand, his green stared at the unmarred skin on his wrist. Before his father died, he hadn't even thought about doing this, but that was before his family was dead, leaving him alone. He'd only cut twice before now and it had helped him immensely.
He was in the bathrooms during class, a razor hovering shakily over his wrist, below two other cuts he had made just a few months earlier. He had wanted to end it for a while but something had always interrupted him in trying to do it: schoolwork, rehearsals, gym, hanging out with friends, pretending to be fine when he's not, and being with Monique, who once could take away the pain but can't anymore.
He closed his eyes and saw Monique in his mind, telling him to drop the razor, that they would get through this together. He smiled grimly as he opened his eyes. "Goodbye, Monique." He told her in his mind before he lowered the razor to his wrist and started to slide the object across his wrist slowly, barely containing a hiss of pain as he saw blood pooling out of his wrist. As he was going to open the cut even more he heard the bathroom crash open and his name being called by a frantic Monique but he paid her no mind until she gently pried the bloody razor from his fingers and threw it out of view, he looked at her with hate in his green irises.
"Why did you do that?" He yelled at her as he felt his blood running down his wrist like a thin river. Monique didn't flinch at his yell like he had been hoping for. Instead she led him out of the bathroom and into her office, not looking at Selena as she walked past the younger woman and into her office.
Monique was quiet as she shut her door and grabbed her first aid kit from a bookshelf. Caleb had sat himself on a chair and held the hem of his shirt to his wrist and watched as Monique came to where he was sat and started to clean and wrap the cut on his wrist without a word to him. Once Monique had wrapped his wrist and put the kit away, she simply glared at him, her blue eyes narrowed at him.
"What," she began, her voice was hard and tight with barely contained anger. "the hell were you thinking?" She asked him, taking a seat in the chair opposite him, her nails dug into the arms. Caleb had shrugged, unsure how to answer her question; how did one tell their Director that they wanted to die because the pain of losing his father was too much? "I just wanted it all to end." He told her quietly, Monique sighed. "Wanted what to end, Caleb?" She asked him, her voice was quiet now, gentle, the anger that was there only seconds ago was gone. Caleb looked at her, tears shined in his eyes. "Everything!" He cried as he got to his feet and started to pace the office. "The pain of losing my dad, the academy, schoolwork, the loneliness, everything, Monique! I've got no one left! My parents are dead, I'm alone!" He burst out. Monique stood up and had walked over to where he was pacing and placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, they held eye contact for a minute before her lips descended on his. The kiss was everything he expected a kiss to be by Monique DuBois: hot, fiery, gentle, loving. It was Monique who pulled away from the kiss first.
"I don't want to ever find you like that ever again, Caleb." She said sternly. Caleb just nodded and attempted to look down but her finger hooked underneath his chin and tilted it up so he was once again looking in her eyes. "If you ever feel like that again, I want you to come in here, whether I'm in here or not, and just sit and remind yourself that you've got me, always." She told him softly before pulling him into a strong hug.
"You've got me, always." She whispered into his ear.
Monique had saved him twice that day in the bathroom, and in her office when she told him that he's got her, always.
Monique is the most important and special person he has in his life, she's passionate, intelligent, strong, he loves her, and he's curious if Monique know that he's fallen in love with her, if she has she's not said anything but that's another thing that he loves about her: she's got secrets of her own that no one knows about, and he's the one secret no one knows about.
She'd been his saviour and he's her secret.
Monique DuBois knows that her student and lover, Caleb Wick, is in love with her, it's what she was planning to happen: save him in the bathroom, make him feel safe and loved and he'll bend to her every will, do anything she asks of him without question or hesitation.
Love, she thinks, is a dance, a choreographed dance. You have to create it, rehearse it, practice it until you can dance it with your eyes closed. And Monique dances this dance everyday, she's been dancing this particular dance her entire life.
Dancing this dance is how she's making Caleb fall in love with her and she won't stop dancing this dance until she's done with Caleb, until he's of no use to her, regardless of if he's falling in love with her. He's just a toy she's currently playing with to keep herself entertained. She's his little secret, her toy, and until she's bored with him, she'll continue playing with him.
Yes, Monique DuBois is only toying with Caleb Wick until she's bored and ready to throw him away underneath her bed or into a cupboard, somewhere where he'll stay until she's ready to play with him again, but she's not quite bored yet. He's a particularly fun toy for her to play with, so she's sure she'll be playing with him for a while.
She couldn't have planned it more perfectly if she was being honest with herself.
A\N: I feel like Monique's POV is everywhere because I have so many ideas that I wanna explore and tried to fit them all into this story. I hope you like this particularly dark Monique/Caleb story, Angels.
