|Makeup and Breakup
Author: Northern-Soul PM
A scene/chapter I think should appear in Last Sacrifice in some form or another. Please read. Was a one-shot, now continued.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Rose H. & Dimitri B. - Chapters: 23 - Words: 64,382 - Reviews: 409 - Favs: 175 - Follows: 114 - Updated: 12-29-10 - Published: 09-09-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6311901
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Another one-shot. A scene that I think should appear in the upcoming Last Sacrifice. This took longer than I thought to type, mainly because I sprained my wrist and had to type this one handed. That was fun.
Reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer- The Vampire Academy are the property of Richelle Mead.
And I've lost who I am
And I can't understand
Why my heart is so broken
Rejecting your love
Shattered ~ Trading Yesterday
"We need to talk."
The past week of my life has been the most unsettling to date. Despite being freed of all charges seven days ago people, Moroi in particular, still shot me alarmed, fearful looks whenever they passed me in the corridors. The whispers carried easily across the busiest of corridors carrying the rumours of how I escaped death by bribery or threats. In the eyes of the Royals I was, and no doubt always would be a suspect for the murder of Queen Tatiana. I mean, I did like her especially but not even I was stupid enough to stake someone that important and leave the evidence behind. I might have failed history but I wasn't that dense.
Fortunately most of the Royal court agreed with me and I was finally freed from my brick hell-hole. The one thing they never mention when they talk about prison is the sheer boredom that comes with lying on one's back for twenty-four hours a day counting ceiling tiles.
So, with all this in mind you'd think that people would be a little more considerate to my temperament and not muttered obscenities behind my back. It made me want to do nothing more than march up to them, punch them in the face and scream 'I'm innocent damnit!' over their withering bodies.
Then there was one of my more nagging problems.
My stint in jail had been an eye opener for me and had helped me realise that what we had was unrealistic. I wasn't stupid, I know he cared about me a lot, possibly even loved me and therein laid the problem. The thought of him caring that much about me, quite honestly, scared the hell out of me. I didn't pretend I didn't care about him either, but I could never give myself to him fully and that would always hurt him; something I never wanted to do. Whenever he was sweet or gentle there was constantly going to be a part of me that wanted to be treated like I was unbreakable, not fragile. I didn't want to be looked after, that was something I was never going to accept, but also something Adrian was never going to understand.
Plus there was the whole Royal Moroi-potential murderer status' we currently had going.
And I was fairly certain his mother now hated me.
It was with these thoughts weighing on me that I found myself outside Adrian's room, preparing to do something I hadn't thought would happen for a long time yet. So you can imagine my surprise when it wasn't me that spoke those infamous words.
I looked into those bright green eyes and saw my own sadness and resignation reflected back at me. So instead of coming up with a witty come back I collapsed on his four-poster bed with a sigh.
"Yeah, we do," was my brilliant response.
He invited me in and I automatically went to sit on the bed before deciding that probably wouldn't be very appropriate for this conversation and redirected towards the couch. He came to sit beside me and took my hand in his, tracing lazy patterns on my skin. It felt nice and caused tears to well up in my eyes. I would miss this, if nothing else. We sat in silence, neither of us willing to say the words we both knew were coming. He spoke first.
"This is it, isn't it?" There was no accusation in his voice, only the same resigned sadness that I saw in his eyes.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked meekly. These types of conversations were not my forte. I'd never had to break up with someone before.
He offered me a smile.
"Not really, I just know you, that's all. That and your aura's practically been screaming it at me since you got out."
I chuckled, despite the situation.
"Of course, you and your spirit-freakishness. Why didn't you just get drunk and block it out?"
He shot me a withering look that made me embarrassed, but I tried not to let it show.
"You don't like my drinking. I promised to cut back for you, and I did."
"Oh," I muttered lamely, feeling thoroughly chastened. I then took a deep breath, deciding to move the conversation forward. "So I guess I don't really need to say it, you know why I'm here."
He sighed and shifted so his arm was around my shoulders. I automatically leaned into him. He smelt vaguely of clove cigarettes and sandalwood; it was strangely comforting. This had to be the most anti-climatic break-up ever, I mused.
"Yes, I know why you're here, little dhampir," he said softly.
I pulled back so I could see his face. I had expected him to protest, argue, yell; but vocal explosions had never been part of his character. It was one of the things I loved about him; but also one of the things I hated.
"For what it's worth," I told him. "I really do care about you."
A bright smile lit up his face fleetingly before he leaned forward and kissed me lightly.
"I know that too. I just wish it was enough."
I felt tears pool in my eyes and decided it was best to leave now, before I started blubbering like a pre-teen school girl. I stood up, looking awkwardly at my feet.
"I guess I'll see you later then, lover-boy," I quipped, then immediately cringed.
Amazingly, he laughed. "You may be able to do a lot of incredible things, Rose Hathaway, but you are useless at serious conversations."
I grinned at him, choosing to ignore the jibe.
"You wouldn't love me if I was any different."
He rolled his eyes then made a shooing gesture with his hand.
"Be gone, wench. I need to sleep."
"Wench?" I repeated, pretending offence.
He grinned again and I smiled in response.
"Yes wench, out." He stood and ushered me dramatically to the door. I couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped. Good God, I really had lost it. Since when did I giggle?
All the same I offered him a mock salute. "Yes sir."
His grin subsided and he looked sad again.
"I'm really going to miss you Rose," he murmured.
I lost some of my own happy buoyancy and leaned up to kiss him softly. It was a goodbye kiss, something shared between friends. Which is all we would be now and, if I'm truly honest with myself, all we ever should have been.
"Me too," I whispered and then I was gone before he could say anymore.
I wandered aimlessly at first, not quite sure where to go. I debated about going to see Lissa but after zipping into her head and finding her with Christian I decided against it. I was all for them getting back together but I had no desire to have that image burnt into my retinas. It was bad enough receiving the mental picture.
"I'm surprised they're letting her walk around, unguarded. It's a disgrace really, having common criminals in the Royal Court."
I stiffed at the not-quite-whispered words and turned around to glare at the two Moroi women who were regarding me haughtily. My hands curled into fists at my side as I felt my anger rise in me. It felt like a dark entity, surrounding me, chocking me, and I briefly wondered if Lissa had been overdoing it with the spirit but quickly concluded that this was all me. I watched with satisfaction as their expressions twisted into one of fear. I approached them slowly, leisurely and become even more satisfied as they quickly drew back. When I was a foot or so away I stopped and cocked my head to the side.
"I'm only going to say this once," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "I am innocent. I was proved innocent. If I hear one more rumour, one more insult, one more threat; then that status will change, and you really will have reason to call me a murderer. Capisce?"
It was stupid and reckless, I know, but I was sick to death of these Royal wannabes fucking about with me and the satisfied feeling it left me with made it totally worth it. At least I was fighting back in some way.
They nodded furiously, obviously easily intimidated. I grinned.
"Good." Resisting the urge to pat their cheeks condescendingly, I turned and stalked away, heading towards the gym; I needed to blow off some steam. I chose one of the less used halls to try and avoid anyone else and after pulling off my hoodie, quickly set about beating the crap out of one of the tattered, red punch-bags.
Each blow was like a release and I soon fell into an easy rhythm. Left-right-right-left.
I was so into it that I didn't hear the door opening and closing before the footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. Immediately I tensed and then spun around to face who was there, only to freeze in surprise.
Perfect. Just what I needed.
He stood there in all his Godly glory, dark hair hanging loose around his face and donning a wife-beater and sweats, obviously about to get some training in himself. What surprised me most of all, however, was that he hadn't gone running for the hills as soon as he saw it was me. Instead he simply stood regarding me blankly, his guardian mask up in full.
A thousand different remarks rose in my throat; some unbelievably pathetic, some not very nice at all. Instead of embarrassing myself with either, I remained silent before turning back around and resuming my punching.
I expected him to move, leave, something, but he didn't. I could sense him still behind me as if we were connected by a live wire, causing my body to hum. Nevertheless, I refused to acknowledge him and consequently my punches sped up became more jarring.
"You need to find a smoother rhythm or you'll waste your energy too quickly and become more likely to be taken down."
I froze as his voice floated across the space between us and I felt his approach. Anger, thick and heavy, swirled within me again and I clamped my fingers down on the material of the punch bag to prevent myself from lashing out. I turned my head towards him and shot him a glare. What right did he have to reject me over and over again and then waltz in here and spew out his mentor crap?
Dimitri halted when he took in the expression on my face and his eyes widened, reflecting something that I refused to acknowledge, something akin to hurt.
That did it. Something snapped inside me. All the torment I'd had to endure, all the sideways glances and all the messed up emotions I had with Adrian came boiling to the surface and I whirled around. I was frustrated and angry and I needed an outlet. Why not take it out on the one person who doesn't give a shit about me? That way no one gets hurt in the long run.
"Don't call me that," I hissed.
He blanched before swiftly getting his features under control.
"I was only trying to help-"
"I don't want your help," I snapped, still glaring at him.
He frowned then stepped towards me again, this time warily.
"What happened? You're upset. Did someone hurt you?" He sounded protective, as if he actually cared for my well being.
I snorted. Did someone hurt me? Was he really that dense?
"Yeah, you could say that," I scoffed.
"Who?" he demanded roughly.
I snorted again and felt my fragile grip on my control shatter into tiny of razor-edged pieces.
"Just this guy, a badass Russian," I watched comprehension grow in his expression but I ploughed on relentless. "He said he loved me and I believed him. I slept with him; gave him everything I had. I thought we would last." I laughed humourlessly and watched as Dimitri's face grew paler and paler. "He left. It wasn't his fault, I didn't blame him. How could I? It was an accident. But I went after him, because I loved him, I wanted to save him. But he chewed on me like a piece of meat and got off watching my spirit fade. I thought he might still love me, even if he was all twisted up on the inside. But he didn't. And I guess he never will. I wonder if he ever did," I mused albeit depressingly. Dimitri seemed to be trembling slightly but I ignored him; this was my time to vent. "I guess he just say me as an easy fuck, got what he wanted then ran."
"It wasn't like that!" Dimitri shouted, his control finally rupturing. "I did love you! I did! I just, I can't, not anymore. You don't understand. I don't..." His voice cracked and he trailed off.
"You don't love me. Yeah I get it," I spat. "I guess I'm only good for an afternoon snack now." I fingered the slightly raised scars on my neck, a reminder of my time in Russia.
Dimitri looked like I had just slapped him and turned an interesting shade of green. I felt fleetingly victorious for affecting him at all.
"Don't say that," he whispered. "Don't ever say that. You're worth so much more than that Roza."
My anger flared again and I lashed out towards him. It was a sloppy throw and he easily stopped me from hitting my target by catching hold of my forearm, but my intention was clear.
"I told you not to call me that," I hissed. "You have no right to call me that anymore!"
"Rose, please," he tried but I was too overwhelmed, too deep in my anger to care. In that moment I hated him, something I thought I would never be able to do. I lashed out again, this time with my left fist, catching him unawares. I was filled with so much adrenalin that the blow caused the bone and muscle in his collar bone to give way. He called out in pain and stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet and landing unceremoniously in a heap on the floor.
I stood towering above him, breathing heavily as I watched his face crumple in pain. The guilt and regret began to build in me before I could stop it so I turned tail and ran for the doors. A nagging thought in my brain told me that the pain displayed on his face had little to do with the physical injury and a lot more to do with the emotional blows, so I half expected his to call after me.
I burst through the doors into the courtyard outside just as the sun began to rise. It was getting late but I was far too antsy to go back to my room so I headed east, with a new mission in mind.
Ambrose was sitting dutifully behind his desk, though he looked more withdrawn than I had ever seen him. All the same he smiled when he saw me.
"Rose Hathaway, what can I do for you?"
"I want a haircut," I told him bluntly.
He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow- yeah he was hot, deal with it-questionably but didn't falter. He slid gracefully off his chair and led me through a series of corridors and into a hair salon. It was empty, but that didn't surprise me judging by the hour.
"Sit," he ordered, pointing to one of the black, leather chairs. I obeyed and he draped a thin sheet over me.
"How do you want it?" he asked why rhythmically brushing out any knots.
"Short. As short as it can go. I want to show off my marks."
He looked at me surprised. "You want to be a skin head?"
I shot him a withering look. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Just bob it."
He nodded and set about working the scissors. I closed my eyes and let myself go numb.
The end result was rather shocking; Ambrose had done a good job. The back of my hair was cut back right to the nape of my neck and it gradually got longer as it came forward. I loved it; it made me look older, different.
I thanked Ambrose then left, feeling somewhat lighter. The sun was fully risen now and it had to be near noon; the middle of the night for Moroi. I found a quiet, secluded spot to sit and bathe in the rarely seen sun. A slight breeze ruffled the trees around me and succeeded in creating a relaxing atmosphere.
I don't know how long I sat there, but it had to have been a while because he eventually found me.
"Rose, we have to talk."
I cracked open my eyes and looked up at him. With the daylight shining behind him he looked unearthly and my heart gave a painful squeeze.
"What do you want Dimitri?" I asked wearily. All the earlier fight had left me and now I just wanted to be left alone.
However, he didn't answer me, but instead stared at me in incomprehensible horror.
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, not quite sure why he was staring at me like that.
I rubbed my face, making sure I didn't have smear marks on it.
"You look better," I tried, while examining his collar bone. Or ogling. Whatever.
"Lissa healed me," he finally replied, but he seemed distracted and he was still staring at me in horror.
"What?" I finally exploded, jumping up. My control was certainly being put through its paces today and I was quickly discovering that I actually had very little of it.
Thankfully my tone seemed to snap him out of it and his gaze lessened slightly in intensity, but it didn't waver.
"What have you done?" he murmured, sounding appalled.
"Dimitri, what are you on about?" I questioned, ultimately confused.
Rage rose in his eyes and he leant forward and grabbed me by my forearms. He spun me around and pinned me to the side of the building. One arm caged me in while the other fisted into my newly cut hair, and comprehension dawned.
"This," he hissed, tugging to emphasis his point. "What the hell have you done to your hair?"
"I cut it?" the statement came out more uneasily than intended, while I was faced with his wrath.
"I can see that," he barked. "Why?"
I closed my eyes, unable to meet his anymore.
"You always loved my hair," I explained softly. "I just wanted rid of the reminder."
I heard his sharp intake of breath and opened my eyes only to be met with his closed ones. His face was twisted as if in agony but I refused to analyse that any further. But his next words shocked me and made my blood run cold.
"You hate me."
I squeaked in a very non-Rose way, shocked by his statement.
"Why on earth do you think that?" I demanded.
His eyes sprung open so his gaze was boring into mine.
"I could see it in your eyes, when you hit me. I just didn't want to believe it. But this confirms it." He tugged on my hair again, but this time the action was laced with sadness.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head slowly. "I could never hate you. I love you, you complete moron."
I expected him to laugh or sigh in exasperation, maybe turn and walk away but he didn't. He only leant his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. His barely audible "Why?" was only heard because of the lack of space between us.
I reached up and placed my hand comfortingly on his cheek.
"You want to know why?" I asked rhetorically. "Because you do everything with such determination and skill it makes my knees weak. You're like an avenging angel when you're fighting for something, and you always give it your all. You're strong, smart and even though this may sound weird, you're beautiful, inside and out."
"But I hurt you, you said so yourself," he muttered but I could hear the growing hope in his voice, hope that made my heart swell and beat erratically.
I considered lying and saying he didn't but that would be stupid.
"Yes, you did." He flinched slightly but I continued. "What you said, in the church, it'll probably always hurt. But if you didn't mean then I can forgive you, and I have a feeling, right now, you didn't mean it." I looked at my feet as waited anxiously with bated breath.
However he didn't respond and I sighed, defeated. It wasn't until I felt the dampness on my forehead that I realised Dimitri was crying. My eyes shot to his and in them I saw so much emotion; sorrow, pain, longing, hope and the most powerful, most dominant-love.
I couldn't contain my grin as happiness swamped my body.
"You didn't mean it, did you?"
Again he didn't reply but the small shake of his head spoke volumes.
I couldn't contain my excited yelp as I threw my arms around him in a crushing hug. He enveloped me in his own arms chanting "I'm sorry" over and over again in my ear.
I shushed him quietly, just revelling in the moment. His fingers drifted up to touch my cropped hair and I heard his unhappy sigh.
"It'll grow back," I told him but I didn't only mean my hair. Our love, our relationship would also grow.
We would grow back
Tell me what you think.