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monaboyd Mar. 17th, 2004 10:19 pm)
jettabug.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Mar. 17th, 2004 10:19 pm)Title: Words
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jettabug
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13 for angst
Feedback: It's my drug of choice!
Author's Notes: Lyrics don't belong to me, or to him, but I'm pretending they are. Ownership does in fact belong to Abby Dobson, the song being 'Don't Ask For More'.
Summary: His reflection on the biggest mistake of his life.
Words
by Jenna
He sat down with his pen and paper, with no intention to write a song. But suddenly the words appeared in verse form, and he was humming the melody softly.
The words came so easily, straight from the heart. He didn’t even realise he had the words there to begin with.
But as he read and re-read what he had written, he realised that’s where all of the unsung pain had been, inside his heart, eating away painfully at the memories he tried to store there.
His pen tapped softly on the paper as he paused to sing a few words, before hastily scribbling out a line before adding another one to the page. The words seemed to jump up at him, biting him, injecting their heartfelt meaning into his bloodstream.
He murmured a line softly to himself as he shifted in his seat, pulling his legs up under him. He wrote four more lines before setting his pen down.
He folded his arms and looked at the paper, expecting it to take form and be all his repressed feelings and hopeless thoughts.
He sat for a full ten minutes before gingerly reaching out and lifting the notebook, making sure that the paper wouldn’t be morphing anytime soon.
Satisfied with his findings, he scribbled his initials ‘BB’ in the corner, pushed his chair back and stood up, and began pacing in front of the roaring fire in the hearth of his living room. He hummed softly, the thick chords vibrated in his throat, spilling forth from his lips.
His bare feet skimmed over the plush blue carpet as he walked, his eyes glued to the pages in his hands.
The room was warm, comfortably so, despite the raging Scotland weather that carried on outside, and he was completely at ease except for the longing in his heart.
It beat painfully of times lost, of feelings forgotten.
It resonated with such confliction, such destruction, he wondered if it would ever be fully healed.
He tried to pay no attention to his aching heart as he paced, his eyes skittering over the words scrawled on the page, the humming still coming from his mouth.
The words, the written prose filled him with such sadness, an incomplete feeling that it depressed him to see his emotions so easily scrawled on the paper. Would it be that easy to conquer the heartache? By just writing it down?
He didn’t think so. Didn’t think writing it down would even come close to filling the void in his heart.
He sighed and threw the notebook to the coffee table and sunk down on the couch, leaning his head back. His head his soft suede and he looked to the ceiling.
As much as he tried to fight it, he saw his words written everywhere. In his loopy handwriting across the ceiling, knitted into the carpet, scrolling across the blank TV screen. Even when he closed his eyes, the words rolled on the back of his eyelids like a silent movie.
“Stop,” he called out softly, his voice a ghost in the room.
The words continued to bombard him.
“Stop,” he said, a little more forcefully.
Still, the words surrounded him, filling his mind, his heart, his being.
“STOP!” he shouted so loudly, that time seemed to stand still, and then, the words disappeared.
He sighed in relief and relaxed once again on the couch. He could close his eyes without fear of seeing the words, his feelings, his aching need.
But still, in the back of his mind, in his heart, he knew they were there. That they wouldn’t go away for a very long time if he kept them locked away in his subconscious.
“It’s all too hard,” he choked out to the empty room, running his hands through his hair. “Too hard to deal with…it’s all too soon…”
He got up and pushed his way blindly into the kitchen, where he splashed his face with the water from the tap. He leant heavily against the sink and watched the droplets splash back into the stainless steal basin.
He parted his lips and began to sing…
“What do you say, when words are not enough?
Too few won’t sum it up, too many is just too much.
I’ve read all the signs, but still don’t know the way.
I could try and lead you there, but I’d just lead you astray.
Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
If you wanna be with me, ‘cause the truth will set you free.
Don’t look too closely or you’ll see my disguise.
Saw the love between us fly, but I’m not ready for goodbye.”
The words came out of his mouth, a choked whisper, accompanied by a sob.
He was crying, even though he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to give into the words that surrounded him, that engulfed him.
“Don’t ask for more,
Cause what you’re searching for,
You won’t find at my door.
Don’t ask for more,
My heart already knows,
But my head won’t let you go.”
He gripped the bench tightly with his hands, amazed at how quickly he’d learnt the words to his song. Nearly immediately as that thought entered his head, he realised that he didn’t have to learn the words, they were there, in his heart, all along.
He took a deep breath and intended to walk away, leave the kitchen, but instead, the lyrics spilt forth.
“Please try and understand, this is all I am.
I keep holding on, but half of me is gone.
The pieces of my heart are lying on the floor,
It’s been broken before, it can’t be broken anymore.
Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you know lies.
If you wanna be with me, ‘cause the truth would set you free.
Don’t look too closely or you’ll see my disguise.
I don’t wanna live a lie, but I cannot say another goodbye.”
His grip on the marble bench top loosened and he felt himself slip despairingly to the floor. The tile hit his ass and he leaned his back up against the adjoining cupboard doors, his chest heaving in unshed sobs.
Tears ran down his cheeks and spattered against his bare arms, assaulting his already battered soul with their reminder of mistakes made and promises broken.
He tried to control the sob that tore at his lips, dying to get out. He pleaded with himself, bargained, threatened his mind, not to cry, not to give into the pain, the loss.
His mind betrayed him and the sob ripped forth and soon his whole body was shaking, quivering in a mass of emotional upset.
“I’m so sorry,” he sputtered, wiping tears angrily from his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not stronger and I’m sorry I ever let you go.”
He let himself lie down on the tiles, his cheeks pressed against the cool surface, causing a shiver up his spine. His cries resonated around the empty, lonely apartment, which made the situation even more heartbreaking.
“I’m so alone because I was an idiot,” he sobbed. “I should be with you, right there beside you, loving you. But instead I’m here, alone, crying on the kitchen floor.” He laughed bitterly. “Ironic. This is how I left you. Crying, alone, scared and lost.”
The apartment responded in eerie silence, reinforcing the loneliness he felt.
“I should never have left you, Dom.”
Cross posted to:jettabug, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
monaboyd & fellow_shippers
Author:
jettabugPairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13 for angst
Feedback: It's my drug of choice!
Author's Notes: Lyrics don't belong to me, or to him, but I'm pretending they are. Ownership does in fact belong to Abby Dobson, the song being 'Don't Ask For More'.
Summary: His reflection on the biggest mistake of his life.
by Jenna
He sat down with his pen and paper, with no intention to write a song. But suddenly the words appeared in verse form, and he was humming the melody softly.
The words came so easily, straight from the heart. He didn’t even realise he had the words there to begin with.
But as he read and re-read what he had written, he realised that’s where all of the unsung pain had been, inside his heart, eating away painfully at the memories he tried to store there.
His pen tapped softly on the paper as he paused to sing a few words, before hastily scribbling out a line before adding another one to the page. The words seemed to jump up at him, biting him, injecting their heartfelt meaning into his bloodstream.
He murmured a line softly to himself as he shifted in his seat, pulling his legs up under him. He wrote four more lines before setting his pen down.
He folded his arms and looked at the paper, expecting it to take form and be all his repressed feelings and hopeless thoughts.
He sat for a full ten minutes before gingerly reaching out and lifting the notebook, making sure that the paper wouldn’t be morphing anytime soon.
Satisfied with his findings, he scribbled his initials ‘BB’ in the corner, pushed his chair back and stood up, and began pacing in front of the roaring fire in the hearth of his living room. He hummed softly, the thick chords vibrated in his throat, spilling forth from his lips.
His bare feet skimmed over the plush blue carpet as he walked, his eyes glued to the pages in his hands.
The room was warm, comfortably so, despite the raging Scotland weather that carried on outside, and he was completely at ease except for the longing in his heart.
It beat painfully of times lost, of feelings forgotten.
It resonated with such confliction, such destruction, he wondered if it would ever be fully healed.
He tried to pay no attention to his aching heart as he paced, his eyes skittering over the words scrawled on the page, the humming still coming from his mouth.
The words, the written prose filled him with such sadness, an incomplete feeling that it depressed him to see his emotions so easily scrawled on the paper. Would it be that easy to conquer the heartache? By just writing it down?
He didn’t think so. Didn’t think writing it down would even come close to filling the void in his heart.
He sighed and threw the notebook to the coffee table and sunk down on the couch, leaning his head back. His head his soft suede and he looked to the ceiling.
As much as he tried to fight it, he saw his words written everywhere. In his loopy handwriting across the ceiling, knitted into the carpet, scrolling across the blank TV screen. Even when he closed his eyes, the words rolled on the back of his eyelids like a silent movie.
“Stop,” he called out softly, his voice a ghost in the room.
The words continued to bombard him.
“Stop,” he said, a little more forcefully.
Still, the words surrounded him, filling his mind, his heart, his being.
“STOP!” he shouted so loudly, that time seemed to stand still, and then, the words disappeared.
He sighed in relief and relaxed once again on the couch. He could close his eyes without fear of seeing the words, his feelings, his aching need.
But still, in the back of his mind, in his heart, he knew they were there. That they wouldn’t go away for a very long time if he kept them locked away in his subconscious.
“It’s all too hard,” he choked out to the empty room, running his hands through his hair. “Too hard to deal with…it’s all too soon…”
He got up and pushed his way blindly into the kitchen, where he splashed his face with the water from the tap. He leant heavily against the sink and watched the droplets splash back into the stainless steal basin.
He parted his lips and began to sing…
“What do you say, when words are not enough?
Too few won’t sum it up, too many is just too much.
I’ve read all the signs, but still don’t know the way.
I could try and lead you there, but I’d just lead you astray.
Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
If you wanna be with me, ‘cause the truth will set you free.
Don’t look too closely or you’ll see my disguise.
Saw the love between us fly, but I’m not ready for goodbye.”
The words came out of his mouth, a choked whisper, accompanied by a sob.
He was crying, even though he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to give into the words that surrounded him, that engulfed him.
“Don’t ask for more,
Cause what you’re searching for,
You won’t find at my door.
Don’t ask for more,
My heart already knows,
But my head won’t let you go.”
He gripped the bench tightly with his hands, amazed at how quickly he’d learnt the words to his song. Nearly immediately as that thought entered his head, he realised that he didn’t have to learn the words, they were there, in his heart, all along.
He took a deep breath and intended to walk away, leave the kitchen, but instead, the lyrics spilt forth.
“Please try and understand, this is all I am.
I keep holding on, but half of me is gone.
The pieces of my heart are lying on the floor,
It’s been broken before, it can’t be broken anymore.
Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you know lies.
If you wanna be with me, ‘cause the truth would set you free.
Don’t look too closely or you’ll see my disguise.
I don’t wanna live a lie, but I cannot say another goodbye.”
His grip on the marble bench top loosened and he felt himself slip despairingly to the floor. The tile hit his ass and he leaned his back up against the adjoining cupboard doors, his chest heaving in unshed sobs.
Tears ran down his cheeks and spattered against his bare arms, assaulting his already battered soul with their reminder of mistakes made and promises broken.
He tried to control the sob that tore at his lips, dying to get out. He pleaded with himself, bargained, threatened his mind, not to cry, not to give into the pain, the loss.
His mind betrayed him and the sob ripped forth and soon his whole body was shaking, quivering in a mass of emotional upset.
“I’m so sorry,” he sputtered, wiping tears angrily from his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not stronger and I’m sorry I ever let you go.”
He let himself lie down on the tiles, his cheeks pressed against the cool surface, causing a shiver up his spine. His cries resonated around the empty, lonely apartment, which made the situation even more heartbreaking.
“I’m so alone because I was an idiot,” he sobbed. “I should be with you, right there beside you, loving you. But instead I’m here, alone, crying on the kitchen floor.” He laughed bitterly. “Ironic. This is how I left you. Crying, alone, scared and lost.”
The apartment responded in eerie silence, reinforcing the loneliness he felt.
“I should never have left you, Dom.”
Cross posted to:
jettabug, monaboyd & fellow_shippers
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