a/n I'm pretty sure nobody remembers me now. Short I-can't-wait-to-watch-Vacation-with-Derek/goodbye fic. I honestly love this fandom. This is deeply, profoundly shallow. Forgive it that. Also, the awesome writers in this fandom, Rachel/Will? Pretty please? EDIT: Consider the 'goodbye' thing officially deleted. Never say never, right?
disclaimer (stuff i don't own): LWD, The Paper Raincoats, Casablanca, Pretty Woman, Robert Frost, Robert Browning, Elvis Costello, Neil Young, Love Actually. No, really.
It begins and ends the same way; with a girl standing in front of the mirror, a comical look on her face because her insides have been kicked out. (And yeah, she stole the line from Casablanca)
"I think we should…"
beat. silence. static.
(It's not. She wants him, he doesn't, what's so complicated about that?)
"Six hundred and thirty second thwarted love affair, don't you think the universe is trying to tell you something?"
"Free ice-cream and I watch get to watch you moon over Truman? It's like a three day weekend."
"I was in love."
"No, you weren't."
"How would you know?"
(he looks at her, she doesn't look at him, and- well, yeah, he knows).
She tells him to leave, he stays anyway. If you're just looking at the right angle, maybe these patterns have meaning.
"Who are you to judge, you've been in love…"
"We're still on this? It's been like a month; shouldn't you be shutting up just about now?"
"…like fifty billion times."
maybe it's because it's dark and they can't see each other, or maybe it's because Nora's in the hospital with Simon.
flash of blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes and that smile.
(she doesn't ask).
It keeps hurting on, and on and onandonandon like some septic paper cut, which, when you think about it, hurts worse than anything else.
"It's like a paper cut".
he continues flipping through the magazine draped with naked women.
"Yeah, whatever makes you feel deep, sis."
"Pretty Woman? What are you majoring in; Excruciating Lameness 101?"
"Shouldn't you be out there living the high life, instead of being here all the time?"
maybe he'll answer (he doesn't)
"What, you have a thing for sluts?"
"I have a thing for arrogant bastards."
he still doesn't answer (wait, was that even a question?)
He doesn't come the next day. She stares at the wall and doesn't think of brown hair that's almost red.
She feels sick.
"Isn't he beautiful?"
Nora glows, it's like a magazine picture of new mothers and love and home. Family.
He has her eyes and his hair and it almost seems like…
(she stops thinking, that way lies madness).
They're back in college and it's just the same, except not.
"Can you stop with the whining and the moaning? God, it's like I'm married to you".
"Or like you're fulfilling your duties. Learning what being a good brother is like."
beat. stare. say something now.
'It's a self-preservation thing', she watches the guy on screen and because she's always been that sort of a person, it's a metaphor. (He makes fun of her for that, obviously).
"There's this guy in my English class..."
"And there's this guy in the room right now and he's not listening slash interested."
look. stalemate. look away.
"I'm going to my dorm. Room's definitely not big enough for you, me and your delusions."
everybody knows this is nowhere.
Who knows but the world may end tonight?
(the crossword has space for Robert Frost. It's Robert Browning. She's Casey McDonald, she knows this stuff.)
His hand's at the last button and his mouth is on her neck and who knows, maybe the world will end tonight.
she makes out his silhouette in the darkness, and his skin and his mouth and this is too much right now.
"Derek, you're my brother. Plese don't do-".
"Step-brother". His voice hurts her in the darkness.
not again. please. not again.
"Don't you get it. It's the same thing, Derek. It's the same freaking thing."
reverse. repeat. square one.
It begins and ends almost the same way, with a guy standing in front of a girl's door, a comical look on his face because his insides have been kicked out (and no, he doesn't know where the lame, over-dramatic line is from. She said it once. He just remembers.)