(no subject)
RIGHT. So this morning I was talking to gingerpig about THINGS and then I starting THINKING and then this happened. Bruce Willis/Demi Moore. I DON'T EVEN KNOW. There might be more, but probably not.
The split is amicable, mostly. Sure, they make their fair share of front covers, it's the nature of the business, but it doesn't drag on for years - a couple of months and the vultures find someone else to circle.
It doesn't mean it was easy, though. The end of a marriage never is.
But it could have been worse.
Demi has to remind herself of this often.
***
He's been gone for two weeks, the last fight their final one - the skin around his eyes tight and her throat hoarse with shouting and shouting and shouting. He packed a bag, kissed the girls and she was left to sweep up the glass from the floor one last time.
Two weeks and it's already routine, that is until she wanders into the kitchen and he's there, drinking her coffee like it's any other morning.
"I threw you out," she says, eyes narrowed mostly because it's not even seven yet and she can't deal with this man this early, especially not when he's drinking her coffee.
"You did," he nods.
"And yet you're here."
"Looks like."
Bruce smiles, skin creases in the corners of his eyes and two weeks of stubble growth on his chin. It's more than he has on his head.
The desire to punch him isn't new.
***
He moves out and buys the house next door just to irritate her.
It works.
***
Ashton is funny and tall and sweet and has a full head of hair. Granted, he's also half her age, but she deserves this, she thinks. Not that marriage was terrible, but the last couple of years felt like a slow death, tearing each other apart over and over again while smiling for the cameras, a deliberate torture they inflicted on each other just to see who would be the first to crack. It was an amicable end, mostly because they were too tired for anything else.
"I want to see you again. Can I see you again?"
Ashton's earnest and young and so beautiful that half the time Demi can't look at him straight on. He kisses her sweetly right there on her front door and Demi can feel it right down to her toes.
***
It's three in the afternoon and Bruce is eating all her good pastrami, right there out of the pack in front of the refrigerator.
Demi frowns and snatches the mostly empty packet out of his hands. They're big - wide palms, thick knuckles and blunt fingers. Capable, honest, made for real work, not the ridiculous make believe of their every day life.
"I don't think you understand the meaning of divorce."
He steps forward, pressing her against the counter as he tucks her hair behind her ear and dips his head, kissing the curve of her shoulder like he still has any rights of ownership. She's trapped, caught off guard as she closes her eyes, heat chasing up over her chest because passion was never something they lacked. He palms her breast - big, capable hands - and kisses the hinge of her jaw.
When he speaks, it's a low rumble of words and it takes her minute to understand.
"Does he have to get permission from his mom if he stays out past curfew?"
She elbows him hard in the stomach and can still hear him laughing on the other side of the house.
***
SO. YEAH.
The split is amicable, mostly. Sure, they make their fair share of front covers, it's the nature of the business, but it doesn't drag on for years - a couple of months and the vultures find someone else to circle.
It doesn't mean it was easy, though. The end of a marriage never is.
But it could have been worse.
Demi has to remind herself of this often.
***
He's been gone for two weeks, the last fight their final one - the skin around his eyes tight and her throat hoarse with shouting and shouting and shouting. He packed a bag, kissed the girls and she was left to sweep up the glass from the floor one last time.
Two weeks and it's already routine, that is until she wanders into the kitchen and he's there, drinking her coffee like it's any other morning.
"I threw you out," she says, eyes narrowed mostly because it's not even seven yet and she can't deal with this man this early, especially not when he's drinking her coffee.
"You did," he nods.
"And yet you're here."
"Looks like."
Bruce smiles, skin creases in the corners of his eyes and two weeks of stubble growth on his chin. It's more than he has on his head.
The desire to punch him isn't new.
***
He moves out and buys the house next door just to irritate her.
It works.
***
Ashton is funny and tall and sweet and has a full head of hair. Granted, he's also half her age, but she deserves this, she thinks. Not that marriage was terrible, but the last couple of years felt like a slow death, tearing each other apart over and over again while smiling for the cameras, a deliberate torture they inflicted on each other just to see who would be the first to crack. It was an amicable end, mostly because they were too tired for anything else.
"I want to see you again. Can I see you again?"
Ashton's earnest and young and so beautiful that half the time Demi can't look at him straight on. He kisses her sweetly right there on her front door and Demi can feel it right down to her toes.
***
It's three in the afternoon and Bruce is eating all her good pastrami, right there out of the pack in front of the refrigerator.
Demi frowns and snatches the mostly empty packet out of his hands. They're big - wide palms, thick knuckles and blunt fingers. Capable, honest, made for real work, not the ridiculous make believe of their every day life.
"I don't think you understand the meaning of divorce."
He steps forward, pressing her against the counter as he tucks her hair behind her ear and dips his head, kissing the curve of her shoulder like he still has any rights of ownership. She's trapped, caught off guard as she closes her eyes, heat chasing up over her chest because passion was never something they lacked. He palms her breast - big, capable hands - and kisses the hinge of her jaw.
When he speaks, it's a low rumble of words and it takes her minute to understand.
"Does he have to get permission from his mom if he stays out past curfew?"
She elbows him hard in the stomach and can still hear him laughing on the other side of the house.
***
SO. YEAH.