disclaimer: don't own iCarly. and Megan (laterade on tumblr) is the captain of the Brelanie ship.
notes: blech. feelings and emotions that have to be forced out some way. I feel like the more I write them, though, the more I begin to understand them. Like, I knew there was something, but that something becomes more and more apparent. Tell me what you think? Oh and the idea of Brad being a screen play writer comes from The Ballad of Sam and Freddie by eleanorr1gby. (follow me on tumblr at lyricmedlie)
didn't i give it a l l?
fading away in the wind. she stands tall against the blank canvas she's been forced onto. the lair that had been created, a place girls like her didn't belong in. a place where she exists, yet doesn't live. she wants to live again. she wants to stand under scrutiny, breathe fresh air and actually be happy. she hasn't been happy in years.
Her breathing comes in a hushed, shallow gasps. Her hair is a frenzy of tousled blonde curls. She's here, yet she's there. His arm draped across her waist feels heavy, like a dead weight, a dumb bell crushing her frail body. Wiggling out from under him, she gets up, waiting for her chest to still once more. She's being suffocated with the pressure in her lungs. She can't quite grasp enough oxygen to live. Radical breaths puncture her chest and with a whirling mind she slips from the bedroom. Her long, plaid pajama bottoms rustle against the floor and his t-shirt hangs over her shoulders. Her blue eyes are blood shot and her mouth is dry. Wanting nothing more than to escape, she slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, a coat over her shoulders and black umbrella in her grasp, she flung the front door open. The world is dark; the moon, stars and various street lights illuminate the world in reckless abandon. The world is a beautiful mistake.
"Save me," She murmured, the thick pain clear in her voice.
"Do you wanna go out to get dinner tonight?" His voice probes her mind, yet she tries to ignore it.
"Wanna go to a movie?"
"Are you okay?"
"Perfect." Her voice is guarded, no emotion able to be detected.
"You seem off." He tells her.
"No you're not."
"Brad," She fixes him with a sorrow filled expression. "I'm okay. I promise."
He doesn't believe her, though he feels as if there's nothing more he could do.
Long distance relationships create an emotional cover up, Melanie discovered. How easy it was for her to make up any excuse. They could go weeks without a single word and a single worded text could suffice. They were 'too busy' or 'caught up with school' or 'my phone was having problems' and that's all there is. There's no confrontation, no awkward eye contact. She finds herself ignoring texts, claiming that she had never received them. It could have been true, though she knew Brad was catching on. Soon, he would easily see through her falling façade. She was slipping. She was falling fast. The bags under her eyes drooped farther, the ache in her heart grew, the beats of her heart became more erratic.
'Mel, I miss you xx' She quickly deletes the text.
The room is deathly silent. Every noise is sharp, like a knife cutting through the thin air. Neither move, though. The duvet is ever still as their forms lie simply. Their breathing is still, small puffs blowing from exhausted lips. There were things she wanted to tell him, but she knew they would hurt him. So she buried them and let them hurt herself.
The air swirled around them with reckless abandon. She wanted to scream, break the deathly silence that threatened to swallow them whole, to eat them, capture them as prisoners. It hurt, because they were supposed to be in love, they were supposed to be happy, yet they were so far from it. She hadn't felt that depressed in her life.
"I'm sorry." Melanie finally murmurs and she feels him stir from her side.
"I am, too." He murmurs quietly and she nods.
"We're falling apart, Brad."
"I know, Mel."
"Why can't we get it right?" Melanie asked, her voice portraying all of the hurt she held tightly in her chest. They lay in silence as Brad struggled for words.
"I love you." He finally broke the shivering silence, though Melanie stayed ever still.
"That's not enough." She stands from the bed, shoving her feet into the fuzzy pink slippers and leaving Brad alone.
Her blonde curls framed her face as her fingers pulled at each strand. She wasn't entirely sure how her ponytail trend began, yet she knew that should she leave it down now, it may be detrimental. She was the twin that took care of herself. French braids, fancy plaits and all variations of ponytails were always done to her hair and it made her Melanie. She was fancy and done up. She would hate to disappoint any fans of her hard work.
Staring straight ahead at the mirror, her eyes looked back so dully. No sparkle met her and she wanted to scream and run from the mocking reflection. It threatened to capture her prisoner of her cold forming soul. She just didn't understand anymore. She wasn't so much herself any longer and with those fleeting thoughts she quickly pulled her gaze away. She couldn't look any longer. Instead, she picked up another pink stained brush. Cautiously, she glanced back at the grimy, nearly shattered mirror.
With a deep heave, she applied the makeup necessary. A million shades caked upon her soft skin. She considered this look bullet proof, yet she had found that she couldn't hide from herself. No matter how hard she tried, she always found herself.
"Mel?" She heard his voice and she turned.
"You ready to go, babe?"
"Oh, yeah." Melanie smiled. "I'm ready."
"Brad!" Melanie giggled as she shrieked in delight. "You're getting it in my hair!"
"Oh, you mean like this?" He exclaimed as he scooped another half cup of flour into the measuring cup, flinging it at her across the kitchen. She shrieked again, a huge smile lighting up her face. Brad too chuckled and she wished she could hold onto that moment forever.
"This is so unfair!" Melanie exclaimed. "I've got no ammo!"
"Come here, I'll give you some." Brad motioned for her to come close to him and she shook her head.
"Yeah right!" Melanie giggled. "I'm not stupid."
"Look at all this flour," Brad gave her a taunting look as he sifted flour through his fingers.
"I'm not coming near you!" Melanie exclaimed and he gave her an evil look, before he came running towards her, the bucket of flour in his grasp. "Brad!"
And then flour is flying everywhere. Both have fists full of the powdering substance, as they fling it at each other. Her hair was covered with the white flakes, her hands up in both surrender and to somehow shield herself from the flour onslaught. Her high pitched voice filled the air and Brad couldn't keep the huge smile off of his face. And as cliché as it sounded, Brad couldn't believe how beautiful she looked. Her mascara clad eyelashes were nearly coated, each time she blinked a cloud of flour puffed away. Her nose, too, had a tiny coating of the white powder.
Deciding to end the flour chase, Brad sped up and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. She shrieked as he spun her around, relaxing into his chest.
Perfection was the word that punctured her mind.
She scrolls through the many emails he'd sent her and her eyes water, begin brimming with the awful pressure in her chest. Her cursor hovers over the 'delete' button and she can only blow out a huge breath of the air clouding up in her lungs.
I was looking through pictures of us. I miss your smile. I miss our spontaneous dates. I miss "coffee breaks". I miss holding hands. I miss sharing my secrets and keeping yours in turn. I miss you.
I love you! 3
I know you hate that nickname, but I can't resist. I chased our flock of pigeons today. I wrote another couple scenes of my screen play. I ate mac-n-cheese for lunch. (still sure you want us to exchange our exact day activities?) I watched an episode of 'Celebrities Underwater'. I helped Freddie with an iCarly thing. I texted you for hours. I wrote this email. ;) Talk to you soon! (You're calling me right now!)
Please don't ignore me anymore. I miss you. I called you multiple times and you didn't pick up. I understand if you don't feel the same anymore, just please let me know. I had your brew at our coffee shop, today. I saw a promo for a new movie with your favorite actress and I thought about all of our movie nights. I try not to think about you, but I do. Every day; still. Please call me.'
Today is Day 50 without contact from you. I had a subway sandwich today. I did more editing work on my screen play. I wrote you into it. Your character has your same curly blonde hair and blue eyes. She is smart like you, and she makes a mess in the bathroom like you. I talked to Sam today. Bumped into her at the Groovy Smoothie. I tried not to ask about you, but I did. She said that you guys don't ever talk. Said that you were a flake and that I should give up on you. I can't give up on you. I'm in too deep. I miss you. I cleaned my room out today and I found that coloring book you insisted we get. All of our drawings stared me down and I couldn't help but smile at the memories that came back to me. I still can't make my fudge without thinking about you. I know you said we were a mistake, but I believe in us, Mel. I'll be here for you.
As Melanie's finger began to press the small button on her laptop, a startling 'ping' breaks her composure. Jumping slightly, she glances down to the chat box that had appeared at the bottom of her screen.
Making a quick decision, she typed a simple, heart filled reply.
'You: I am so sorry'
'Brad: Don't be : )'
'You: I am'
'Brad: I'm not mad'
'You: You should be'
'Brad: Don't be silly : )'
'You: I loved you'
Minutes passed before Brad's reply blinked slightly.
'Brad: I loved you, too, Mel'