This is the first set of my 45 promps I found on live journal somewhere.
The underlined bits e.g return are the prompts they show where one starts so when you get to the next one you know it is a different prompt although it is all one story.
This is the first set of them. I might make a fic telling the whole story later if you're interested. Let me know yeah?
Anyways, enjoy and please let me know how I did.
I can't stop the torrent of memories that flood my mind as I push the door open and enter the pub, our pub, The Abby. It still smells of larger and cigarette smoke, there's still the same beer stained tables and old booths with the faded fabric seats. The round tables still have two little stools with the same burgundy coloured fabric as the booths on the opposite side of them to the booth seat so you can get pissed up in a group. Taking a deep breath of air, I walk to the corner of the pub, the corner they'll be in. The corner they've always been in.
I can hear them laughing before I reach them, but then, you always could. Shaking my head to get rid of the thoughts, I step in front of my brother. This is what I'm here for. I left my life here. I only want to speak to him. I force myself to focus on Pete. I'm not going to look at the others, I can't, especially not if he's here.
"Pete." My voice sounds horse from crying. I can imagine what a state I look, my eyes red-rimmed make-up down my face.
Pete looks as he always did, his familiar blue eyes are twinkling and I feel bad knowing I'm about to put a dampener on his mood. His face pulls into his little half grin as he recognises my voice. Now it's time. He looks up at me and the smile drops.
"Jessie what's happened?" He's on his feet in a second.
"Mum's dead Pete. She 'ad a stroke. Steve called me. He couldn't get 'old of you. I got a train and, well 'ere I am."
The twinkle in his eye is gone. Just as I knew it would be. He slumps down into his chair. "Should we...go?"
He can't say it. He can't say hospital. It's too scary. I know the feeling.
"Nah, Steve's already left. We 'ave to go see 'im tomorrow mornin' I just...someone 'ad to tell you."
It all sounds so useless. It doesn't sound like enough. I feel awkward stood there but I'm not sure what to do. If I'm welcome now.
"Well, sit down, come on Jess. Please. I...can you just. I need." I understand. He hasn't made a sentence but I understand.
"I'll stay Pete. I am staying, I...I'm home...for good."
I feel like a coward. I sit down next to Pete and keep my gaze firmly on the table. The tension in the room is obvious. Probably even to the stupidest of people. He's not stupid though, neither am I.
"So I'll get the drinks in then?" His voice penetrates the silence.
It's as smooth as I remember it. Accented like the others, but not as much so, he sounds more sophisticated as well. I lick my lips that have suddenly become very dry as my mind takes me back to the day I left.
"Jessie. Jess. J. Come on. Please." I sigh as I run a hand through my golden blonde hair.
"I have to do this." I answer without even turning around to face him, I can't face him if I do I won't leave.
He sounds so broken, so hurt. I know why. He loves me. He's never said it, but I know. Just like he knows I love him. It's not something I'm comfortable with saying, and he knows that.
"Because. I, I can't. It's not right for me to stay 'ere an' live off you an' I'm sick of worrying 'bout whether you, Pete an' the boys are all goin' to die after every match. Of not being allowed to come. Of bein' scared to walk around alone on match days in case another firms goin' to jump me."
He knows that's not the reason. I know that's not the reason. I love the excitement and it's true they don't let me go to all of the matches but I go to most of them. I know the reason he lets me live off him too, because I love my job, it doesn't make nearly enough to live on but I love it. He knows exactly why I'm going, because I'm scared, because I'm hiding, because I love him.
"Stay. Jessie." I feel myself wavering as he pleads. "Please. I'll do anything, just stay."
"I can't. I'm sorry." I don't even believe myself.
I snap, "Why, why should I stay?" I'm still facing the wall, I feel him come up behind me, he doesn't touch me but I know he's there.
"Because, Jessie I love you."
"I'm sorry Dave." I walk out, close the door, get into the car and drive. It isn't until I hit the motorway the tears begin to fall.
I'm brought out of my memories as a pint is placed carefully in front of me. I tense. I hear him set his pint on the table before he sits down. Everyone is drinking the beer. Except me. Except him. I can see the bottom of his glass and I can feel his eyes on me. I know what he's waiting for. He's sat right across from me. If I drink the beer then I'll have to look at him. He's got me in a tight spot and he knows it.
He knows it will be hard for me to look at him and he knows that although I have no problem with being rude I can't be rude to him, and not drinking the beer would be rude. He also knows that no matter what I can never resist a good beer for long.
"Gone off beer or summit?" Bovver's voice cuts into our battle of wills.
"No." I mutter still staring at it.
"Why aint you drinkin' it then?" He asks.
Bov isn't stupid, I know it, everyone around the fucking table knows it. He's baiting me. I want to make some sort of snappy comment, but I can't. Not at Bov. Not when my mum has just died. She was as much his mother as ours at times.
Tentatively I reach out and take the glass in my hand. Lifting my head at the same time as the beer, I take a deep pull. The taste was the same as the look on his face. Bitter.
The heartache is unbearable. It feels like my throat has closed up and my stomach is so knotted I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat again. My eyes are glued to his face, his eyes glued to mine. He still looks as handsome as ever. His dark eyes are studying me. His black hair combed neatly. He'd been at work earlier on. I could still tell. The stubble was still on his chin and his lips were still looking as soft as ever.
I feel like I have an elephant sat on my chest. Like I'm being crushed, I want to move to run to scream, I can't. This is why I couldn't look at him when I left, because I was running, like a coward. Despite how strong my feelings were for him I had left. I felt horrible.
I still feel horrible. I haven't been with anyone else since him. Anyone else ever actually but that's beside the point. I couldn't bring myself to do it, and I wonder if he could. I wonder if he's got a girlfriend now, if he's in love. Living with her in our old house, sharing our bed. It hurts to think that perhaps he's moved on.
I look into his eyes as he speaks. "No?" I ask.
"No." He answers. "I haven't, I haven't, with you...still, I'm not, I'm not. I haven't."
My brow furrows. How he knows exactly what I'm thinking I'm not sure, but it's the answers that have got me. He hasn't been with anyone else. He hasn't got a girlfriend. He's still in love with me. He's not living with someone in our old house. He's not sharing our bed. He hasn't moved on.
And suddenly the heartache lessens.
It bubbles up inside me. I suppress it, I can't let it show on my face but the hope is there. I'm still in love with him. There's no denying that. I know it. He knows it. Everyone sitting at this damn table knows it. I give him a small smile. It doesn't reach my eyes but it's a start, and he knows it. He raises his glass to me and I nod.
I take another pull of my pint and look around at everyone. I feel bad for ignoring them. Bov looks like his usual grumpy self. Pete is in his own world but that's to be expected. Ned, Ike and Keith are keeping up the usual banter. And Swill. Well he's glaring at me like a hurt child.
"Swill?" I question uncertainly.
"Where exactly is my hug?" I roll my eyes and open my arms. He leans over and wraps his much larger frame around me.
I'm engulfed by his scent the smell of chain smoking, deodorant, beer and roasted peanuts. As he lets go he gives me a warm smile. And there it is. That bubbling feeling again. Hope.
My heartbeat is racing. My beer glass is almost empty. Perhaps one more swig. I look around at the group. No. My family. Pete has pulled himself from his thoughts. He's talking to Bov about the next match. My heartbeat is still racing, that topic of conversation does nothing to calm me.
I look over at Ned, Ike, Keith and Swill. Their all talking about their last fight, that conversation isn't helping either my heartbeat is still going a mile a minute. I look over at him. He's relaxed and a slight smile is adorning his beautiful face as he listens to Swill raving like a lunatic.
My heartbeat slows down. He always relaxed me. I never really knew why, but he always did. He finishes his beer and looks around at the other guys glasses. They're not even close to finished and we know why. They're trying to get us to talk.
His eyes lock with mine. My heartbeat stays steady but my brain is whirring. He raises his eyebrows at me. I look down at my glass, biting my lip slightly out of nervousness I raise the glass up to my lips and finish my pint. We lock eyes again in a challenging way. Setting the glass on the table, I gather all my courage.
"Dave. Can I 'ave a word?" My voice is low and fearsome, but it isn't of him it's of his reaction. If he'll say no.
Nodding at me, he stands up and walks towards the door of the pub. As I follow my heartbeat once again, races.
He holds the door open for me. Always the gentleman. I step out into the cool night air along with him and shiver. It's really cold. The goose bumps rise on my arms. For the first time tonight, I realize I'm wearing a tight t-shirt on the top of my body, no jacket. How stupid. Pushing this thought out of my head, I look up at him. I've always been pretty short.
He waits for me to say something. I'm at a rare loss for words. "Dave..." Trailing off I shake my head.
What can someone say to fix something like this?
"Why'd you go?" His voice is like music to my ears. It seems to hold something special for me, something no one else hears.
"I was scared." I stare at the ground. I can't bring myself to look up at him. I can't bring myself to face the anger I know I deserve.
"That's not a fuckin' excuse." He's trying not to shout. I know he is. I know him too well.
"THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU USIN' IT?" He exploded I knew it was coming. Dave doesn't often shout, I knew this was one of those times meant for shouting.
"Because it's the truth." I look up at him, my voice is as soft as a whisper and there are tears glistening in my eyes.
The anger in his eyes disappears. "No. Don't. Please. I...I can't deal wiv you forgivin' me so easily wen I acted like such a cunt. I'm sorry, I shouldn't 'ave, I dun know what else to say. I was scared, I was eighteen an' I was fallin' in love. I didn't understand. Not well enuff. Not to realize that it wasn't a bad fing."
He takes a step closer to me, he puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head up so that my eyes meet his. "An' that's exactly why I can forgive you. 'Coz you're sorry, and you were scared and you was young."
I feel a warm tear falling down my cheek and he wipes it off. "Hey, don't cry."
Putting his arms around me, he pulls me into his chest and I sigh in contentment. I don't know how long we stand like this but eventually he pulls away. I look up at him. His eyes lock with mine and then. There are no more words.
Okay so there will be more to this little prompts thing. I'm going to try and keep this at a T rating. But I might write a fic for it if you want me to after it's finished that'd probably be M.
So let me know.