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Post by mary jane rousseau on Jul 13, 2011 0:54:46 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true]hi I STILL HAVE MY DOUBTS She felt sick. Mary Jane just felt sick to her stomach with the way things were turning out right now. She'd never been one of those girls that let herself fall into the trap of caring so much about one single person in her life. She knew that most of the time, in the end, it would only mean that people would get hurt in the end. She'd somehow deluded herself into thinking that this would be different. That things would be different with Taylor. That was what she'd thought when they'd put aside their feelings about getting involved in something more than meeting up in dark bars and drinking themselves stupid and making out in bathroom stalls and drunkenly finding their way to one of their places in the middle of the night. They'd moved in together, for God's sake. That had been something that had sort of cemented that in her mind, that they had something that would have been different from the casual relationship that was meant to last a couple of months and only that. She saw that in the potential in their relationship; she'd actually thought that somewhere along the line they would have ended up being something close to being permanent. She'd honestly just never thought that this day would happen, where she would be sitting there on the couch watching Taylor pack the last of his things out of their bedroom. It wasn't easy; even though she'd told herself day after day when they had slept in separate rooms, while he slept on the couch and she laid awake in bed most nights, that this was for the best, she'd had those moments where all she'd wanted to do was get up and go to the living room and climb up on top of him on the couch and beg him to come back to bed, that they could talk a bout this and move on and they wouldn't have to worry about this anymore. Some nights she'd stood in the doorway of her room just watching him, just barely holding back these urges. In the end she would chicken out and lay awake for hours on end.
They were happy. They'd been happy. She'd like everything that had come with them being happy. The waking up every morning with him, watching him sleep for a couple of minutes before she forced him up too so they could both go to work, come back home exhausted and tired, but not enough to not open a bottle of beer for the two of them, sit around watching television and laughing stupidly about things that didn't matter before they curled up in bed together, and that whole patterning repeating for the most part every other day. Even though it was redundant and boring and monotonous, she'd loved it because it was them. Hell, he hadn't even officially left the apartment and already she was feeling a lump in her throat as she looked up at Taylor quietly. They hadn't really spoken in the past couple of days; she felt like she didn't really know how to use her voice. She just felt that lump grow slightly as she crossed her arms, looking up with as much of a blank expression as she could get. It was sort of like looking up into a bright light; she couldn't look at him for too long before she looked down to the faded carpet.
The apartment was already sort of empty with all of his stuff packed in suitcases and a couple of small boxes. She never noticed how it seemed like the apartment had just seemed to much more crowded, just bigger without his stuff scattered everywhere, mixed with hers. Living for more than half of a year together had done that, mixed their stuff together to the point where it had been so deep that she was sure sometime tomorrow she would still find some of his things in the bottom of her drawers or in the back of the closet or under the bed. She wanted to grab the nearest suitcase of his things and dump it all out on the couch and tell him not to leave, that he couldn't leave now. She'd never even thought about doing desperate things like that to make him stay but right now that was all she wanted to do. It had never been difficult to make him stay; sometimes she had been surprised that they weren't sick of each other with the time they spent together, with how they talked and acted around each other and touched and laughed. That was the truth of it all, to sum up what this was; they had something that was special and the fact that it was crumbling down into a million little pieces almost made her want to cry. Legitimately cry, something that she hadn't done since she was in her early high school years.
Standing up slowly, she walked over slowly, her foot kicking at the case on the floor lightly, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest in a way that made it seem like it would take years for her to unravel them. Glancing up at him, she kept her face as impassive as she could as she looked at him. “So... that's... that's everything then...?” Biting her lip, she glanced around the apartment as though something would inspire her to say the things that were going around in her head. The words that she wanted to say so badly. don't leave, don't leave me now, unpack everything, we can work this out, please, just don't leave me. she had no idea when it became so hard to actually tell him how she felt right then and there. All she could do was try and keep her face as expression-less as possible, for the first time in her life with him around. It was hard.
CHARZIE AS TAYLOR - 991 WORDS - IT'S OK? c:
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Post by taylor on Jul 16, 2011 13:55:36 GMT -5
i’ll put a banner here when i’m not being laaAAzy taylor had never really envisaged the ending of his and mj’s relationship. it had just seemed like they’d carry on this way forever, like they’d just fall comfortably into each other with clumsy precision, like they were meant to be in each other’s lives without even trying too hard to stay there. it had just seemed like everything had been going right, like they were jumping from one positive to another. taylor had honestly never been this happy. it was the fin line between not committed enough and too committed that they walked but they manage to linger in comfortable territory and why would you want to change that? but things were changing altogether too quickly. taylor had sensed something was coming for a while – in the back of his mind he’d felt the subtle pressure against the back of his head that spoke of foreboding and bad things to come but he’d tried to push it away. everyone had worries, right? and it wasn’t a foreign concept to worry about where your relationship was going, but taylor had always figured these worries were supposed to be alleviated before too long. however throughout the week he had increasingly had the worry that things were about to go wrong. he wasn’t even sure why, there wasn’t any signs pointing to the fact that something was going wrong. everything was going perfectly, seamlessly, and taylor had liked it. liked it almost far too much and the scariness of falling so hard and so fast for someone who never should have made their way into his heart in the first place hadn’t been solved. instead it had just built up and increased until he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with his breath skittering in the back of his throat, looking down at mj curled up next to him in their shared bed and wondered exactly how it had all happened.
it hadn’t really mattered though, not until that one night when mj had brought up the subject of marriage. it hadn’t even been an outright offer for marriage; it had just been brought up in casual conversation but almost immediately the atmosphere had grown heavy and the light-hearted mood had soured. it w2asn’t that he didn’t like the idea of marriage, except that was the entire problem. he was young and he was scared, even if he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. he didn’t want to get married, didn’t want to grow old and die with anyone, even mj. he didn’t want to be so tied down he couldn’t free himself, and marriage was that one final padlock on the chain around his freedom. he’d panicked, to put it simply and he regretted every single second of it now. not that he felt any different, not that he had suddenly been overcome by a desire to marry mj right there and now and have kids with hr ( because marriage meant having kids, right? ) and growing old with her. sometimes in the moments between consciousness and before he fell asleep on the couch, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea, growing up with someone by his side. growing old alone seemed like a sad idea in the isolation of the living room, in the dark and the quiet where he could imagine mj curled up in what was one their bed without him. he always came to his senses sooner or later though; the cold edge of reality clearing his head in a second. marriage just wasn’t what he wanted. sometimes he viewed it as a means of getting back with mj properly, agreeing to marry her just so he wouldn’t have to leave but at the end of the day he just couldn’t do it. his mouth was bitter with the taste of desperation but the words just wouldn’t leave his mouth.
even now, as he reluctantly packed the last of his belongings in his suitcase and managed to close it finally, he wanted to say it. tell her they could work things out, that he’d been stupid and rash and that he really did love her and wanted to marry her. he wanted to tell her she was his entire future and he didn’t want anything else, but the words refused to leave his mouth. instead, as she walked over to him with her arms wound around her chest, he attempted to give her what was supposed to be a small smile but ended up turning downwards into a grimace, and nodded his head. ‘yeah,’ was all he said finally, ‘yeah i think that’s.. that’s all.’ he stared down at his belongings and down at the carpet he’d trodden on daily on his way to and from work and to and from bed and he could almost imagine his footsteps imprinted on the carpet forevermore. he wanted to tell her i love you i love you i love you because they were the only words running around his mind as he looked up at her, their eyes connecting for only a split second but it was more than enough to make his heart thud painfully. he’d loved her with all of his being for a year and a half and it seemed almost sad that he was the one to end this now. he didn’t know how, but suddenly mj had become far too important to him, almost dangerously so, and so he cleared his throat and looked away from her, took in the pictures hanging on the walls that they’d chosen together and then at the couch where they’d sat night by night curled up into each other until he forgot where he ended and she began, and he didn’t know what to say. what was there to say when everything between them was ending? ‘i...i should probably go then,’ was all he finally said, glancing down at his shoes awkwardly and then up at mj one last time, taking in every small detail of her face he saw every time he closed his eyes. ‘i won’t keep you.’
[/justify] rini as mj – 1015 words – i like this actually hi c:[/center][/size]
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