fic: Pretending
Title: Pretending
Author: stttmsbwa
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's too much pretending going on here.
A/N: Holy crap. Prepare for angst. Also, lyrics from Something About Us by Daft Punk.
It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
Dark sets. Empty rooms. Perfect places to pull him in and push him against a door.
Against a fake door for a fake room in a fake house.
To press his lips against the warm, moist lips of his fake boyfriend.
And he knew they were always choosing the wrong times to stage these moments, but he took them when they came.
And he knew that he was only fooling himself, that this wasn't real, that it was all almost scripted and as mimed as their parts in their scripts, and yet he played his part.
He played his part almost too well.
But there's something about us I want to say
Cause there's something between us anyway
They're always pretending.
Always.
Pretending that they aren't fooling around. That there's nothing between them. That they aren't sneaking about and having quick scandalous rendezvous behind certain people's backs.
Pretending that the moments they hide are special and mean something. That there's something growing between them, something worth finding out more of. That they might be falling in love with each other.
He's even pretending to himself about his pretending.
All this pretending is starting to mess with his mind.
I might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
And he knows it shouldn't hurt when he sees them together. Together together, like he wishes he could be with him.
But it does.
It does, it does, it does.
Because they can be together behind closed doors and outside closed doors (or, well, at least to the doors within the set buildings).
There's no hiding.
There's no pretending.
Not like there is when he finds him waiting around the corner, eyes searching for a temporary replacement for his missing piece.
But there's something about us I've got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with you
He tries to tell him. Tries to let him know that he feels this something between them.
He tries. Oh, he tries.
The words get caught in his mouth. His spit dries up and his throat clenches. His heart starts to beat wildly and his palms begin to sweat.
He's a pussy.
And he knows it.
There was once, though. Where he maybe almost said it.
"Wouldn't it be funny if you and I, you know..."
He had looked up from pulling his pants back up.
"What?"
"Well, I don't know. Maybe if there was an us -"
"What?"
"An us."
"Oh."
"But that's never going to happen."
He had chuckled softly, his heart sinking when he heard another voice joining in on his fake laughter.
Leave him.
The words were caught in his throat.
Be with me.
They weren't real anyway.
I'm in love with you.
He kept telling himself they weren't.
I need you more than anything in my life
I want you more than anything in my life
He was sad.
Sad, sad, sad.
And hopeless. Helpless. Pathetic.
All for him.
And it killed him.
It killed him that he, along with thousands and millions of teenage girls and boys, (along with that stupid, awful, he-couldn't-actually-hate-him-if-he-tried him) had fallen for this goddamn heartthrob.
Every time he saw him, he felt it.
The overwhelming emotions that he tried to bury.
Tried to contain.
He was doing a pretty good job.
He would have to keep doing this job, too.
Even though it killed him.
Killed him.
He wanted him.
He wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted him.
I'll miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life
It took him a while to realize that every kiss was a goodbye.
Always a goodbye.
As if there was no intention of another one.
As if they were all mistakes that were, oops! Casually made.
He was being kissed goodbye by the love of his life.
And every time he thought, "This is goodbye, this is goodbye."
There was another and another and another.
And even though he knew, "Never again, he'll never again."
There would be another and another and another.
And this ever ending cycle of pretending and hiding and lying to everyone and each other and to himself just continued and continued and continued.
Never, never, never.
Leave him. Be with me. I'm in love with you.
Always, always, always.
Author: stttmsbwa
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's too much pretending going on here.
A/N: Holy crap. Prepare for angst. Also, lyrics from Something About Us by Daft Punk.
It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
Dark sets. Empty rooms. Perfect places to pull him in and push him against a door.
Against a fake door for a fake room in a fake house.
To press his lips against the warm, moist lips of his fake boyfriend.
And he knew they were always choosing the wrong times to stage these moments, but he took them when they came.
And he knew that he was only fooling himself, that this wasn't real, that it was all almost scripted and as mimed as their parts in their scripts, and yet he played his part.
He played his part almost too well.
But there's something about us I want to say
Cause there's something between us anyway
They're always pretending.
Always.
Pretending that they aren't fooling around. That there's nothing between them. That they aren't sneaking about and having quick scandalous rendezvous behind certain people's backs.
Pretending that the moments they hide are special and mean something. That there's something growing between them, something worth finding out more of. That they might be falling in love with each other.
He's even pretending to himself about his pretending.
All this pretending is starting to mess with his mind.
I might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
And he knows it shouldn't hurt when he sees them together. Together together, like he wishes he could be with him.
But it does.
It does, it does, it does.
Because they can be together behind closed doors and outside closed doors (or, well, at least to the doors within the set buildings).
There's no hiding.
There's no pretending.
Not like there is when he finds him waiting around the corner, eyes searching for a temporary replacement for his missing piece.
But there's something about us I've got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with you
He tries to tell him. Tries to let him know that he feels this something between them.
He tries. Oh, he tries.
The words get caught in his mouth. His spit dries up and his throat clenches. His heart starts to beat wildly and his palms begin to sweat.
He's a pussy.
And he knows it.
There was once, though. Where he maybe almost said it.
"Wouldn't it be funny if you and I, you know..."
He had looked up from pulling his pants back up.
"What?"
"Well, I don't know. Maybe if there was an us -"
"What?"
"An us."
"Oh."
"But that's never going to happen."
He had chuckled softly, his heart sinking when he heard another voice joining in on his fake laughter.
Leave him.
The words were caught in his throat.
Be with me.
They weren't real anyway.
I'm in love with you.
He kept telling himself they weren't.
I need you more than anything in my life
I want you more than anything in my life
He was sad.
Sad, sad, sad.
And hopeless. Helpless. Pathetic.
All for him.
And it killed him.
It killed him that he, along with thousands and millions of teenage girls and boys, (along with that stupid, awful, he-couldn't-actually-hate-him-if-he-tried him) had fallen for this goddamn heartthrob.
Every time he saw him, he felt it.
The overwhelming emotions that he tried to bury.
Tried to contain.
He was doing a pretty good job.
He would have to keep doing this job, too.
Even though it killed him.
Killed him.
He wanted him.
He wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted him.
I'll miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life
It took him a while to realize that every kiss was a goodbye.
Always a goodbye.
As if there was no intention of another one.
As if they were all mistakes that were, oops! Casually made.
He was being kissed goodbye by the love of his life.
And every time he thought, "This is goodbye, this is goodbye."
There was another and another and another.
And even though he knew, "Never again, he'll never again."
There would be another and another and another.
And this ever ending cycle of pretending and hiding and lying to everyone and each other and to himself just continued and continued and continued.
Never, never, never.
Leave him. Be with me. I'm in love with you.
Always, always, always.