Untitled Part 2... Revisited
Title: Untitled, Part 2... Revisited
Summary: It's impossible now.
Pairing: Greg/David
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: The lovely and wonderful curledfries let me take hold of her story Untitled, Part 2 (First part here!) and do with it what I would. So I did. Go me.
Oh, and un-beated. Early posting+no beta=hazard! ^_-
The doorbell rang and David started at the noise, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. He had a feeling he knew who was on the other side and although he was never, ever one to back down from a confrontation, he wished that Greg would just give it up already. He knew that Greg had chased him into the parking lot and tried to get his attention before David had driven away, but there was a reason David had wanted to leave so badly. He didn’t want to try and address the situation. He’d prefer it to simply die away. Why did Greg think David had anything to say to him anyway? If he had wanted Greg to know what he thought of him, David would have tore him a new one in the locker room.
The knocking persisted as he rose from the couch, praying that it wasn’t a certain blonde CSI. Maybe it was a neighbor. Or an insurance salesman, for that matter. He glanced through the peephole and grimaced at the sight.
It was most certainly Greg.
David’s shoulders slumped and he inwardly groaned, purposely locking the door for a second time, making sure Greg could hear the noise and perhaps even get the hint. He heard Greg curse before he started yelling David’s name and banging his fists onto the door. David wanted nothing more than to answer, to let Greg inside and forget the entire disaster had ever even happened. He wondered if he could forget that Greg had called him a fag or that had Greg questioned how anyone could stand him. Greg could obviously stand him; the way the young blonde had spent time with him the past few months had made David think -foolishly, as he now knew- that maybe Greg even loved him. Sometimes he’d act as if he did, as though he were proud of David, of what they had. Greg would kiss him in the middle of the kitchen for no reason at all. He’d brew coffee while David cooked breakfast. They’d rent movies on the weekends and, after long shifts, they would fall asleep together on David’s bed.
David hated himself for getting fooled, for getting so lost in Greg that he hadn't even stepped back to see what, exactly, he was getting lost in.
“David, listen to me, please! David!”
David shook his head and went to the kitchen, getting himself a beer from the fridge and then sat back down on his couch, turning on the TV, all the while aware of the banging on his door, indicating the presense of a certain CSI who just happened to be freezing outside considering the low temperature. David didn’t drink from the bottle, but it made things a bit more normal than they actually were. He couldn’t focus on the TV screen either; all he could remember was the way he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the day, Greg wrapped around him in slumber. In the beginning, David would mentally prepare himself for the blow, for when Greg decided to break things off. The strange thing was that he never did. As a matter of fact, if David hadn’t overheard his once-lover’s words, they would probably be in his bedroom at that very moment, making love. Or, at least, having sex. Because it was obvious that love had never been part of the deal.
David closed his eyes. He had been so sure that it was love. So incredibly certain.
Showed how much he knew.
"Dave, c’mon, I’m freezing out here! Open the damn door!"
As Greg bellowed, David’s phone rang. He glared at the demon device, wanting absolutely zero human contact at the moment. However, he couldn’t let the shrill sound persist; with a small groan, he picked up the receiver.
“Hodges,” he snapped.
“David, there’s a man outside your house, knocking on the door. Aren’t you going to let him in?” a soft voice asked. It was his neighbour Mrs. Haines, a lovely woman who had been able to tolerate David’s presense for more than a few months. He wondered if she was the only one capable of such a feat.
He opened his mouth to feed her a lie about his visitor, something he knew she’d believe. After a moment, however, he said, “Thanks. I’ll go see who it is.” Because he was sick of lies and those who told them.
He all but slammed down the phone and stalked towards the door, but not before grabbing a small pile of Greg’s belongings that the young man had kept in the dresser drawer in their -My, David reminded himself- bedroom. Two CDs, a bottle of shampoo, a shirt. The technician didn’t look at the items; it only reminded him of the man David had been foolish enough to believe was his.
He jerked the door open.
Greg’s expression was one of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected David to answer. In his defense, David hadn’t planned on speaking to the younger CSI, but he knew he had to get this over with. He couldn’t avoid it forever. Besides, he had a feeling that Greg would have stood all day at his doorstep for the sake of stubborness.
“David,” Greg began, relief contorting his features. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
“You mean you were afraid that you’d have to live with the guilt,” David stonily replied before thrusting the small pile of belongings in Greg’s direction. “Here are your things. I’ll see you at the lab.”
“Wait, wait,” Greg hurriedly interjected, his eyes wide with fear. “We can’t end it like this!”
“Yes we can,” David casually replied. “It’s amibical, isn’t it? I’m not trying to kill you or anything. I’d say this is as good as a breakup can get.”
“We’re breaking up?” the blonde asked, his voice tiny. David blinked. Had he heard right? Was Greg actually questioning the future of their relationship?
“Technicially, breaking up would imply that there was a relationship to start with. How about we call this the termination of our association outside of work?”
“We had a relationship,” Greg weakly argued.
“Right,” David snapped, feeling vicious. “One based on lies and rumors. Forgive me if I’m not heartbroken at the loss.”
“I’ll miss it,” Greg whispered, looking as though he were on the verge of tears. “What I said earlier…” He trailed off, as if too ashamed to remember that morning. “I didn’t-’’
“Let me guess. You ‘didn’t mean what you said’. Am I right?”
Greg nodded, clearly pained. David steeled his jaw; this was all too much. He just wanted to go to sleep, but his stomach churned at the thought of being the only one in his bed. He was so adjusted to the presence of someone else next to him.
“Of course I’m right. I can see that lie coming from a mile away, so let’s cut the bullshit.”
“But I…” Greg trailed off, clutching his small belongings. “David, I-’’
“Why aren’t you overflowing with joy, Sanders? Seeing as no one can stand me and all. And may I compliment you on your acting skills? It must have been difficult spending all of those hours in my unbearable company.”
“David, please don’t do this,” Greg whispered. “I love you. I didn’t mean what I said.”
David was tempted to forget any of this ever happened and simply allow Greg to come inside, to erase the entire day, to forget the cutting words that had made him cry on his way home. But he couldn’t, because that would imply weakness and although he was heartbroken and hurt, he wasn’t weak. Not much. He couldn’t let Greg get the better of him, because he would simply hurt David again in the future.
“You love me? Isn’t that the funniest thing,” David asked, shoving Greg through the doorway and onto the porch, Greg barely catching himself as he stumbled backwards. “That’s what I was hoping to tell you one day. Those exact words.”
“What, that you loved me too?” Greg asked, his voice tinged with hope. David knew he had to be hearing things, because Greg had never loved him, so why would he be hopeful for a reconciliation? There wasn’t any hope for their predicament.
David smiled, although it was bitter and just a bit sad. “Yes. But I didn’t know the thought of a fag falling in love with you would be so repulsive.”
It was that word, that one word, that made it just a tiny bit easier for David to tell Greg goodbye. That specific term was the whole thing that made the situation so unbearable. That was the part that made David sure there was no way he could take Greg back, no matter how much he wanted to.
He's a fag, everyone knows that.
The words echoed in the back of his mind as he slammed the door and locked it again, returning to his previous seat. There was a silence before Greg began knocking again, a litany of pleas (not the kind David usually liked to hear from Greg’s mouth. That was of a different variety altogether, not that he’d ever hear them again.) making themselves known.
“David, please open up! I’ll do anything!”
He allowed Greg’s words to create a background noise, littering the air with what could only be lies. He wished that Greg would just give up the game; it wasn’t funny and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all David. Why was he trying so hard? What did he want to prove?
Perhaps he had grown so attuned with Greg’s bellowing that he didn’t notice it had stopped. He glanced at the clock; about seven minutes had passed, each second dragging until it felt as if they were lifetimes, each one of them filled with pain and betrayal. The beer was still untouched and he still had no idea what channel he was even watching, but the point was that his apartment was suddenly large, looming, as though it were going to swallow him whole. It used to occupy two people, but now it was only one; a miserable, lonely man that was fairly certain he was going to be alone for the rest of his life.
Confident that Greg was gone, he grabbed his jacket and keys, needing to take a walk. Las Vegas wasn’t exactly a park, but there were still a few sidewalks that weren't encrusted with trash and garbage. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get mugged. He would purposely refuse to hand over his wallet until the criminal shot him, doing David a favor.
He yanked open the door only to see Greg's car still in his driveway. David paused, because Greg was already standing outside of his car door, as though waiting, rolling back and forth on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets. Greg gave him a sheepish smile with a trace of optimism that rimmed his lips; lips, David remembered, that he used to kiss. The memory made David dizzy, but he regained his composure. He detested that tiny bit of confidence Greg’s smile contained, because he wasn’t allowed to have that sort of assurance. And if Greg honestly thought that David was going out there, that he was going to forgive him, then he had another thing coming.
Greg silently pointed to his feet, indicating for David to do the same. The technician frowned bu complied and glaned down to find a piece of paper that only had three words scribbled on it. He felt a bout of sickness hit him once he read what it said.
I love you! Please believe me.
It was a matter of keeping his dignity, his worth; quite frankly, it was a matter of principle. So he took the note, crumpled it up, and tossed it onto the sidewalk, somewhere next to where Greg was standing. It was like throwing out trash, because that’s exactly what Greg’s confession was. It wasn’t even a confession. It was a lie. A lie that made him shake with rage and pain and sorrow all at once, because he had loved Greg. He had loved Greg more than he thought he could ever love anyone, and that made him want to die.
He took a deep breath. Despite his feelings, he had to let go. He’d bet money that Greg wouldn’t even really care. He was just feeling guilty at the moment.
David knew he could handle this.
He closed his door, locked it behind him, and tried not to cry.
…
Greg stared in front of him, his car windshield frosted from the cold.
The note lay crumpled on the ground.
And he felt utterly destroyed.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
-You’re Beautiful, James Blunt
FIN.
Summary: It's impossible now.
Pairing: Greg/David
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: The lovely and wonderful curledfries let me take hold of her story Untitled, Part 2 (First part here!) and do with it what I would. So I did. Go me.
Oh, and un-beated. Early posting+no beta=hazard! ^_-
The doorbell rang and David started at the noise, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. He had a feeling he knew who was on the other side and although he was never, ever one to back down from a confrontation, he wished that Greg would just give it up already. He knew that Greg had chased him into the parking lot and tried to get his attention before David had driven away, but there was a reason David had wanted to leave so badly. He didn’t want to try and address the situation. He’d prefer it to simply die away. Why did Greg think David had anything to say to him anyway? If he had wanted Greg to know what he thought of him, David would have tore him a new one in the locker room.
The knocking persisted as he rose from the couch, praying that it wasn’t a certain blonde CSI. Maybe it was a neighbor. Or an insurance salesman, for that matter. He glanced through the peephole and grimaced at the sight.
It was most certainly Greg.
David’s shoulders slumped and he inwardly groaned, purposely locking the door for a second time, making sure Greg could hear the noise and perhaps even get the hint. He heard Greg curse before he started yelling David’s name and banging his fists onto the door. David wanted nothing more than to answer, to let Greg inside and forget the entire disaster had ever even happened. He wondered if he could forget that Greg had called him a fag or that had Greg questioned how anyone could stand him. Greg could obviously stand him; the way the young blonde had spent time with him the past few months had made David think -foolishly, as he now knew- that maybe Greg even loved him. Sometimes he’d act as if he did, as though he were proud of David, of what they had. Greg would kiss him in the middle of the kitchen for no reason at all. He’d brew coffee while David cooked breakfast. They’d rent movies on the weekends and, after long shifts, they would fall asleep together on David’s bed.
David hated himself for getting fooled, for getting so lost in Greg that he hadn't even stepped back to see what, exactly, he was getting lost in.
“David, listen to me, please! David!”
David shook his head and went to the kitchen, getting himself a beer from the fridge and then sat back down on his couch, turning on the TV, all the while aware of the banging on his door, indicating the presense of a certain CSI who just happened to be freezing outside considering the low temperature. David didn’t drink from the bottle, but it made things a bit more normal than they actually were. He couldn’t focus on the TV screen either; all he could remember was the way he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the day, Greg wrapped around him in slumber. In the beginning, David would mentally prepare himself for the blow, for when Greg decided to break things off. The strange thing was that he never did. As a matter of fact, if David hadn’t overheard his once-lover’s words, they would probably be in his bedroom at that very moment, making love. Or, at least, having sex. Because it was obvious that love had never been part of the deal.
David closed his eyes. He had been so sure that it was love. So incredibly certain.
Showed how much he knew.
"Dave, c’mon, I’m freezing out here! Open the damn door!"
As Greg bellowed, David’s phone rang. He glared at the demon device, wanting absolutely zero human contact at the moment. However, he couldn’t let the shrill sound persist; with a small groan, he picked up the receiver.
“Hodges,” he snapped.
“David, there’s a man outside your house, knocking on the door. Aren’t you going to let him in?” a soft voice asked. It was his neighbour Mrs. Haines, a lovely woman who had been able to tolerate David’s presense for more than a few months. He wondered if she was the only one capable of such a feat.
He opened his mouth to feed her a lie about his visitor, something he knew she’d believe. After a moment, however, he said, “Thanks. I’ll go see who it is.” Because he was sick of lies and those who told them.
He all but slammed down the phone and stalked towards the door, but not before grabbing a small pile of Greg’s belongings that the young man had kept in the dresser drawer in their -My, David reminded himself- bedroom. Two CDs, a bottle of shampoo, a shirt. The technician didn’t look at the items; it only reminded him of the man David had been foolish enough to believe was his.
He jerked the door open.
Greg’s expression was one of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected David to answer. In his defense, David hadn’t planned on speaking to the younger CSI, but he knew he had to get this over with. He couldn’t avoid it forever. Besides, he had a feeling that Greg would have stood all day at his doorstep for the sake of stubborness.
“David,” Greg began, relief contorting his features. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
“You mean you were afraid that you’d have to live with the guilt,” David stonily replied before thrusting the small pile of belongings in Greg’s direction. “Here are your things. I’ll see you at the lab.”
“Wait, wait,” Greg hurriedly interjected, his eyes wide with fear. “We can’t end it like this!”
“Yes we can,” David casually replied. “It’s amibical, isn’t it? I’m not trying to kill you or anything. I’d say this is as good as a breakup can get.”
“We’re breaking up?” the blonde asked, his voice tiny. David blinked. Had he heard right? Was Greg actually questioning the future of their relationship?
“Technicially, breaking up would imply that there was a relationship to start with. How about we call this the termination of our association outside of work?”
“We had a relationship,” Greg weakly argued.
“Right,” David snapped, feeling vicious. “One based on lies and rumors. Forgive me if I’m not heartbroken at the loss.”
“I’ll miss it,” Greg whispered, looking as though he were on the verge of tears. “What I said earlier…” He trailed off, as if too ashamed to remember that morning. “I didn’t-’’
“Let me guess. You ‘didn’t mean what you said’. Am I right?”
Greg nodded, clearly pained. David steeled his jaw; this was all too much. He just wanted to go to sleep, but his stomach churned at the thought of being the only one in his bed. He was so adjusted to the presence of someone else next to him.
“Of course I’m right. I can see that lie coming from a mile away, so let’s cut the bullshit.”
“But I…” Greg trailed off, clutching his small belongings. “David, I-’’
“Why aren’t you overflowing with joy, Sanders? Seeing as no one can stand me and all. And may I compliment you on your acting skills? It must have been difficult spending all of those hours in my unbearable company.”
“David, please don’t do this,” Greg whispered. “I love you. I didn’t mean what I said.”
David was tempted to forget any of this ever happened and simply allow Greg to come inside, to erase the entire day, to forget the cutting words that had made him cry on his way home. But he couldn’t, because that would imply weakness and although he was heartbroken and hurt, he wasn’t weak. Not much. He couldn’t let Greg get the better of him, because he would simply hurt David again in the future.
“You love me? Isn’t that the funniest thing,” David asked, shoving Greg through the doorway and onto the porch, Greg barely catching himself as he stumbled backwards. “That’s what I was hoping to tell you one day. Those exact words.”
“What, that you loved me too?” Greg asked, his voice tinged with hope. David knew he had to be hearing things, because Greg had never loved him, so why would he be hopeful for a reconciliation? There wasn’t any hope for their predicament.
David smiled, although it was bitter and just a bit sad. “Yes. But I didn’t know the thought of a fag falling in love with you would be so repulsive.”
It was that word, that one word, that made it just a tiny bit easier for David to tell Greg goodbye. That specific term was the whole thing that made the situation so unbearable. That was the part that made David sure there was no way he could take Greg back, no matter how much he wanted to.
He's a fag, everyone knows that.
The words echoed in the back of his mind as he slammed the door and locked it again, returning to his previous seat. There was a silence before Greg began knocking again, a litany of pleas (not the kind David usually liked to hear from Greg’s mouth. That was of a different variety altogether, not that he’d ever hear them again.) making themselves known.
“David, please open up! I’ll do anything!”
He allowed Greg’s words to create a background noise, littering the air with what could only be lies. He wished that Greg would just give up the game; it wasn’t funny and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all David. Why was he trying so hard? What did he want to prove?
Perhaps he had grown so attuned with Greg’s bellowing that he didn’t notice it had stopped. He glanced at the clock; about seven minutes had passed, each second dragging until it felt as if they were lifetimes, each one of them filled with pain and betrayal. The beer was still untouched and he still had no idea what channel he was even watching, but the point was that his apartment was suddenly large, looming, as though it were going to swallow him whole. It used to occupy two people, but now it was only one; a miserable, lonely man that was fairly certain he was going to be alone for the rest of his life.
Confident that Greg was gone, he grabbed his jacket and keys, needing to take a walk. Las Vegas wasn’t exactly a park, but there were still a few sidewalks that weren't encrusted with trash and garbage. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get mugged. He would purposely refuse to hand over his wallet until the criminal shot him, doing David a favor.
He yanked open the door only to see Greg's car still in his driveway. David paused, because Greg was already standing outside of his car door, as though waiting, rolling back and forth on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets. Greg gave him a sheepish smile with a trace of optimism that rimmed his lips; lips, David remembered, that he used to kiss. The memory made David dizzy, but he regained his composure. He detested that tiny bit of confidence Greg’s smile contained, because he wasn’t allowed to have that sort of assurance. And if Greg honestly thought that David was going out there, that he was going to forgive him, then he had another thing coming.
Greg silently pointed to his feet, indicating for David to do the same. The technician frowned bu complied and glaned down to find a piece of paper that only had three words scribbled on it. He felt a bout of sickness hit him once he read what it said.
I love you! Please believe me.
It was a matter of keeping his dignity, his worth; quite frankly, it was a matter of principle. So he took the note, crumpled it up, and tossed it onto the sidewalk, somewhere next to where Greg was standing. It was like throwing out trash, because that’s exactly what Greg’s confession was. It wasn’t even a confession. It was a lie. A lie that made him shake with rage and pain and sorrow all at once, because he had loved Greg. He had loved Greg more than he thought he could ever love anyone, and that made him want to die.
He took a deep breath. Despite his feelings, he had to let go. He’d bet money that Greg wouldn’t even really care. He was just feeling guilty at the moment.
David knew he could handle this.
He closed his door, locked it behind him, and tried not to cry.
…
Greg stared in front of him, his car windshield frosted from the cold.
The note lay crumpled on the ground.
And he felt utterly destroyed.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
-You’re Beautiful, James Blunt
FIN.