Status: Active, may take a little while to get going as I have exams.
I Might Be Holding Your Hand, but I'm Holding It Loose.
I'm So Obsessed;
He ran with everything; with all the power in his damned legs. He stumbled and wanted to sob or shriek at whatever was causing him to slow down, but refrained. He didn't want to be seen screaming at lampposts or small children; the stares he'd earn would be far too much.
His fist pounded against her surprised door, each collision becoming weaker and weaker, until the door opened and he fell in dramatically; face to the floor.
"Brendon?" she quirked, raising an eyebrow and bending down to his level. "Want to tell me why you're here, and had to enter in that way?"
"Oh, Emma," he whispered, edging closer to her, trying to crawl in her lap. "Sweet, sweet, Emma," His hand fumbled around for hers, finding his treasure and clutching it to his chest.
"Bren, you're scaring me a little," she admitted, propping up his back so he sat against the wall, just like a new born child, except, this man needed much more assistance than an infant.
He lamely pushed the door to.
"I just had sex, Emma. Not many hours ago I had sex. Last night, around half nine, to be specific. With Rebecca!" he exclaimed, gripping at his face. "Years I've been without, so when I can finally 'get back into the game', it should be mind-blowing, right? Right. Not only was it the worst sex of my life, I felt... used. You know? I feel like I've been raped. I want to take it back, I never want to touch her, not like that, not again," he whimpered, head spinning. It lolled to one side and he rested his head on her compassionate shoulder.
"Why is it you do this?" she asked quietly.
"Do what?" he pondered.
"Remain quiet for days, and then talk non-stop for paragraphs. Stop bundling things up, you fool," she smiled, giving his nose a little squeeze. He squirmed, loving her ability to be so forgiving. To be exactly what he needed, when he needed it most.
"Because I'm not around you all the time. You're the only one who'll listen."
He smiled as he said it, but it stung her. It showed Brendon in his most raw; he won't be listened to. It's a basic human right, and what he had to say had pulp to it. It was confused and meshed with naivety but he had good things to say.
"Be around me more, then," she offered, yawning.
"I want to be!" he pouted. "You know if I could, I'd never leave here. I'd watch The Mighty Boosh with you all day long and we could have your infamous milkshakes... then cuddle afterwards, and goof off," he beamed.
"The thing is, you can make that happen, Bren. Like I told you, you have to take charge of your life and make it how you want to be, not me," she shrugged. "And you sound like you've been planning that day for a while, the way you've got that stupid grin on your face," he chuckled.
"I had time to think, so I let my mind wander. Oh and I see what you girls mean, with the whole 'faking it' during sex," he cringed. "I hope I convinced her it was enjoyable. And at the end she told me how bad my grammar was when I climax! I wasn't even aware I was climaxing, I was thinking about a day we could spend together,"
"She's right there. You're simply ridden with grammatical errors," she smirked and he lightly hit her arm.
"Back off, you." he smiled, closing his eyes and leaning in to her more. Comfort like this didn't come often, so he was doing all he could to embrace it. Cuddles with Rebecca were awkward and pointy; her elbows dug into his abdomen when they lay across the couch. He hated compassion when it was shared with her.
"Be honest with me here," he nodded. "Did you ever... fake it with me?"
"Honestly?" she repeated, scrunching up her face.
"Oh, God, you did, didn't you?" he cringed, covering his face with his hands. "Was it often? I bet it was every time, I bet I never even-"
"Hey," she chuckled. "Stop rambling, you're making it worse. It was only for the first few times, okay? You were new to it all, you'd never had it with a girl before, I wasn't expecting you to be grade A material,"
"But after that?" he pouted.
"After the first few months I enjoyed it too," she nodded, smiling.
"Months? It was months? Why didn't you tell me? Jesus," he blushed furiously. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that, if it was anything like what I've just had to sit through, I won't be able to apologize enough."
"Brendon," she laughed lightly, tucking her fingers in-between his. "Stop talking so much. I didn't endure anything; it wasn't a chore like you make it sound to be. You don't like her touch, I liked it when you touched me. Plus, you're a fantastic kisser. Rebecca should be much more grateful of what she's got," she smiled, looking at the floor, her long lashes smothering the disappointment, not daring looking up.
"We hardly ever kiss," he shrugged. "Bogart kisses me more than she does. He's a much better boyfriend," he chuckled.
"Bogart?"
"My dog," he explained. "I finally got one," he grinned. "I figured before, when you were pregnant, that I shouldn't get a dog, just in case the baby was allergic. And you wouldn't want to have to deal with two kids and a dog, would you?"
She smiled, blinking, still keeping her gaze downwards. "I suppose I wouldn't."
"Hey babycakes you're all out of... oh, hello there," stated Stephanie, bounding in to the main room from the bedroom, wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a bra. "Brendon, is it?"
"Yes ma'am," he nodded politely.
"Emma, I thought you hated him?" she shout whispered, as if somehow Brendon wouldn't hear.
"What?" he mumbled, dropping her hand. "You hate me? I thought at the least we were acquaintances..." he trailed off.
"No, I don't, I," she stuttered, panicking. "I mean, I did hate you, or rather, what you'd done and what you'd turned into, but we're friends now, right?"
"You promised you'd help me," he whispered, tensing up. "You promised."
"I am going to help you bear, I will help you, Sweetie I'm here for you and I only-"
"Is that why there's a dart board with my face on? Is that how you help people's fucking esteem, by throwing darts at their face?" he shouted.
"Brendon! Don't shout at me," she reasoned, trying to calm him, but he spat at her attempts. He forced her away from him, unable to comprehend what was running through his mind right now. His eyes flitted from the board, to Emma, to Stephanie, to the window which showed birds gliding on the currents of warm air. He'd never craved to be a bird more in his life than at this moment. An escape.
"Dude, calm down. Not everyone can like you," shrugged Stephanie.
"I only want one damn person to like me," he growled, gripping at tufts of his hair and running back out of the apartment in the same fashion he'd entered. Straight back to the hotel, straight back to Rebecca, straight back to his cancer.
"Brendon?" she yawned. "What are you doing on the floor?"
"Oh, Rebecca, sweet, sweet, Rebecca, I-"
"Look, if you're going to complain about something, I don't want to know. Just get up from the floor and stop making a God damned fool of yourself. You're an embarrassment," she hissed.
"You're not going to hug me and console me?" he whimpered, gripping at his arms that he feared he would scratch red raw with agony and hurt.
"If you think I'd do that, you're marrying the wrong person," she shrugged, giving a little wave. "I'm going out shopping, I've got your card so I won't be back for a while, try and clean up before then, okay? Good. Love you," she slurred, rushing out of the hotel room before Brendon had even had time to digest what she'd said.
"Love you too." he whispered, curling into himself, gripping at his suffocating clothes, drifting into a comatose state of depression. "Get me something nice... get me Emma."
His fist pounded against her surprised door, each collision becoming weaker and weaker, until the door opened and he fell in dramatically; face to the floor.
"Brendon?" she quirked, raising an eyebrow and bending down to his level. "Want to tell me why you're here, and had to enter in that way?"
"Oh, Emma," he whispered, edging closer to her, trying to crawl in her lap. "Sweet, sweet, Emma," His hand fumbled around for hers, finding his treasure and clutching it to his chest.
"Bren, you're scaring me a little," she admitted, propping up his back so he sat against the wall, just like a new born child, except, this man needed much more assistance than an infant.
He lamely pushed the door to.
"I just had sex, Emma. Not many hours ago I had sex. Last night, around half nine, to be specific. With Rebecca!" he exclaimed, gripping at his face. "Years I've been without, so when I can finally 'get back into the game', it should be mind-blowing, right? Right. Not only was it the worst sex of my life, I felt... used. You know? I feel like I've been raped. I want to take it back, I never want to touch her, not like that, not again," he whimpered, head spinning. It lolled to one side and he rested his head on her compassionate shoulder.
"Why is it you do this?" she asked quietly.
"Do what?" he pondered.
"Remain quiet for days, and then talk non-stop for paragraphs. Stop bundling things up, you fool," she smiled, giving his nose a little squeeze. He squirmed, loving her ability to be so forgiving. To be exactly what he needed, when he needed it most.
"Because I'm not around you all the time. You're the only one who'll listen."
He smiled as he said it, but it stung her. It showed Brendon in his most raw; he won't be listened to. It's a basic human right, and what he had to say had pulp to it. It was confused and meshed with naivety but he had good things to say.
"Be around me more, then," she offered, yawning.
"I want to be!" he pouted. "You know if I could, I'd never leave here. I'd watch The Mighty Boosh with you all day long and we could have your infamous milkshakes... then cuddle afterwards, and goof off," he beamed.
"The thing is, you can make that happen, Bren. Like I told you, you have to take charge of your life and make it how you want to be, not me," she shrugged. "And you sound like you've been planning that day for a while, the way you've got that stupid grin on your face," he chuckled.
"I had time to think, so I let my mind wander. Oh and I see what you girls mean, with the whole 'faking it' during sex," he cringed. "I hope I convinced her it was enjoyable. And at the end she told me how bad my grammar was when I climax! I wasn't even aware I was climaxing, I was thinking about a day we could spend together,"
"She's right there. You're simply ridden with grammatical errors," she smirked and he lightly hit her arm.
"Back off, you." he smiled, closing his eyes and leaning in to her more. Comfort like this didn't come often, so he was doing all he could to embrace it. Cuddles with Rebecca were awkward and pointy; her elbows dug into his abdomen when they lay across the couch. He hated compassion when it was shared with her.
"Be honest with me here," he nodded. "Did you ever... fake it with me?"
"Honestly?" she repeated, scrunching up her face.
"Oh, God, you did, didn't you?" he cringed, covering his face with his hands. "Was it often? I bet it was every time, I bet I never even-"
"Hey," she chuckled. "Stop rambling, you're making it worse. It was only for the first few times, okay? You were new to it all, you'd never had it with a girl before, I wasn't expecting you to be grade A material,"
"But after that?" he pouted.
"After the first few months I enjoyed it too," she nodded, smiling.
"Months? It was months? Why didn't you tell me? Jesus," he blushed furiously. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that, if it was anything like what I've just had to sit through, I won't be able to apologize enough."
"Brendon," she laughed lightly, tucking her fingers in-between his. "Stop talking so much. I didn't endure anything; it wasn't a chore like you make it sound to be. You don't like her touch, I liked it when you touched me. Plus, you're a fantastic kisser. Rebecca should be much more grateful of what she's got," she smiled, looking at the floor, her long lashes smothering the disappointment, not daring looking up.
"We hardly ever kiss," he shrugged. "Bogart kisses me more than she does. He's a much better boyfriend," he chuckled.
"Bogart?"
"My dog," he explained. "I finally got one," he grinned. "I figured before, when you were pregnant, that I shouldn't get a dog, just in case the baby was allergic. And you wouldn't want to have to deal with two kids and a dog, would you?"
She smiled, blinking, still keeping her gaze downwards. "I suppose I wouldn't."
"Hey babycakes you're all out of... oh, hello there," stated Stephanie, bounding in to the main room from the bedroom, wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a bra. "Brendon, is it?"
"Yes ma'am," he nodded politely.
"Emma, I thought you hated him?" she shout whispered, as if somehow Brendon wouldn't hear.
"What?" he mumbled, dropping her hand. "You hate me? I thought at the least we were acquaintances..." he trailed off.
"No, I don't, I," she stuttered, panicking. "I mean, I did hate you, or rather, what you'd done and what you'd turned into, but we're friends now, right?"
"You promised you'd help me," he whispered, tensing up. "You promised."
"I am going to help you bear, I will help you, Sweetie I'm here for you and I only-"
"Is that why there's a dart board with my face on? Is that how you help people's fucking esteem, by throwing darts at their face?" he shouted.
"Brendon! Don't shout at me," she reasoned, trying to calm him, but he spat at her attempts. He forced her away from him, unable to comprehend what was running through his mind right now. His eyes flitted from the board, to Emma, to Stephanie, to the window which showed birds gliding on the currents of warm air. He'd never craved to be a bird more in his life than at this moment. An escape.
"Dude, calm down. Not everyone can like you," shrugged Stephanie.
"I only want one damn person to like me," he growled, gripping at tufts of his hair and running back out of the apartment in the same fashion he'd entered. Straight back to the hotel, straight back to Rebecca, straight back to his cancer.
"Brendon?" she yawned. "What are you doing on the floor?"
"Oh, Rebecca, sweet, sweet, Rebecca, I-"
"Look, if you're going to complain about something, I don't want to know. Just get up from the floor and stop making a God damned fool of yourself. You're an embarrassment," she hissed.
"You're not going to hug me and console me?" he whimpered, gripping at his arms that he feared he would scratch red raw with agony and hurt.
"If you think I'd do that, you're marrying the wrong person," she shrugged, giving a little wave. "I'm going out shopping, I've got your card so I won't be back for a while, try and clean up before then, okay? Good. Love you," she slurred, rushing out of the hotel room before Brendon had even had time to digest what she'd said.
"Love you too." he whispered, curling into himself, gripping at his suffocating clothes, drifting into a comatose state of depression. "Get me something nice... get me Emma."
♠ ♠ ♠
Would you people be as lovely as to tell me what you think about Emma, Brendon, Stephanie and Rebecca? As in, how they're portrayed and what you want to do to them/ feel they deserve. That way I can tell whether or not this is going in the right direction (:<3 to you all, you beautiful people, you.