Your Tired Eyes
A/N: OH MY GOD. I AM SO STUPID. I AM A STUPID WHORE. I just.. I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. UGH, I AM TERRIBLE. LEAVE ME HATE MAIL IF YOU MUST.
Four achingly long days later, when I have the emancipation papers drawn up, Tyler gets into my car, and we drive to his former house. It's particularly cold, the sky enshrouded with magnificent, grey, storm clouds. I ignore the tremors that run down my spine, and act like this happens everyday. But it's different; everything is drastically different. The way things had started out - mistake after mistake, denial, hiding, acceptance. Acceptance. Tyler Lockwood would forever be embossed into my heart, as if he'd engraved very essence into me.
"And he's home?" I ask, again, parking the car, sloppily, outside the Lockwood Mansion.
"Yeah," he says, bitterly, "It's Founder's Day. He has to act like we resemble a family."
"Hey," I say, catching the dismal tone in his voice, "Don't worry. It's going to be okay. I love you. It's not going to change," my voice is light, (I'm becoming good at hiding anxiety).
His soft gaze withers as he nods, "I trust you."
Tyler guides me through the mostly empty house until he reaches a large door, with two large faded gold handles, and gives me one long glance before he pulls it open.
His father looks up, dressed in his usual suit-and-tie, and his expression quickly changes from bored to surprised. "Tyler - what are you doing here?"
Tyler looks like he's been paralyzed. He hadn't expected this, and neither had I. I allow my fingers to snake their way into his grasp, and squeeze his calloused grip. "I know about the trust fund. You were going to keep it?"
Mr. Lockwood smirks, "It's for Tyler Lockwood. You stopped being a Lockwood when you chose that thing -," he tosses me a scornful glance, "Over your family."
"I didn't choose anything."
Mayor Lockwood's face quickly twists into a grimace, "What's the paper for? Field trip?"
He scoffs, "What makes you think I'd sign that?"
"You want your re-election, right? Mystic Falls wants a mayor who believes in the morals he enforces. Finding out that you've been boning your secretary behind your alcoholic wife's back, while slapping around your gay son isn't going to help you."
"You're going to exploit your own father?"
"No. But I will exploit you. Sign the paper and you can pretend that Tyler Lockwood never existed."
He glares at me, for a long moment. "I hope you know you're letting him throw his future away. For what - a pathetic teen romance that's going to last for another three weeks?"
"Don't talk to him. Don't even look at him. Sign the paper, Dad. Sign the fucking paper."
"I sign this," he says, voice quivering, "And I never see you again. Ever."
"Count on it."
Three Years Later
Jeremy stands in front of the mirror that he's nearly too tall for and adjusts the cap. "I don't think I can do this."
"Jere. I did it two years ago. You'll be fine. It'll be fine. Just stop freaking out."
"This gown is stupid. Why do we have to wear this stupid gown?"
"The gown is stupid, but your graduation isn't. Stop worrying," Tyler says, "I took a day off of college for this. Your ass is going."
"Why does it -,"
"You are going."
Jeremy sighs, "I have to send in my financial crap to Tufts today."
"It'll be fine. You're marrying a Lockwood in six weeks. Don't worry about it. I'm kind of loaded."
"Ugh. What's the point of being gay if I have to have a wedding?"
"Because I want an excuse for staying inside for a week and doing nothing but fucking the hell out of you."
"We don't need a wedding to do that."
"Yeah, but it makes us seem less like nymphomaniacs."
Two Years Later: Boston, Massachusetts
Jeremy always smells like lasagna.
When I was a kid I would eat lasagna and believe that if you believed hard enough and wanted it hard enough you could close your fist around faith and feel the eternal love and joy and contentment of God and happiness in every orifice of your body. For a long moment of time I lost belief in anything, lost faith in anything. My theories shrunk down to: Live and die. That's what life was. It's weird, it's really fucking weird how people can change you so drastically. People you've written off as irrelevant to your oh-so-superior existence. We find love in the oddest places, buried in the hearts of fifteen years old's we've punched in the face a good number of times, and in deities we'd forgotten we'd once had belief in.
Jeremy blinks awake moments after I've taken a seat on the couch and started typing up my closing argument. "Whatchu doing?"
"Work. Go to sleep baby."
Jeremy gets up and drags his body next to mine, leaning against my body, as his lips trails against my left cheek. "I'm going to get anything done if you keep that up."
Jeremy smiles, "Coffee?"
"Go to sleep. Really. I can handle this."
"I know you can. But I happen to really love you, so I'm going to be an awesome husband and make you coffee."
I watch after him, as he walks into the kitchen, bare feet and gingham pajamas. This is something you can get used to very easily. Waking up next to someone who loves you as much as you love them, someone who gives you chance after chance, and puts up with your bullshit. People like to pretend that it's about soul mates and perfect matches and all that jazz. It's not. It's hard, bone to knuckle, tears, fists - it's life. It's falling asleep next to someone and waking up to see smudgy, sleep-ridden, eyes looking at you - happy or sad, in dire need of a shower, a haircut, a breath mint - and never wanting to do anything but gaze into their beautiful, tired, eyes.
Thank you to everyone for the reviews and support during my 9348209472908 year long hiatus. This was short, but it was exactly how I had always planned on ending it, and I'd had that last paragraph since I'd started writing.
I really extremely sorry for not posting for such a long time, but I'm kind of obsessed with my grades and education and junk. My finals end on Monday, and I plan on finishing 'Enough' and I'm thinking of writing an Alaric/OMC or Damon/OMC, y/y? I have to go to a program for Advanced Placement Biology from Tuesday to Friday of next week and some time in August, but my summer looks pretty free other than that. I just want to thank everyone who's been along the whole time, and all the new readers who find this as well. I really appreciate everyone so much more than I can express. Thank you to The Fray for being a continuing inspiration to my everyday writings, and thank you to anyone who has taken a minute or two out of their lives to tell me what they think of my writing, really, thank you.