FICTION: The Things We Build to Burn (Tim, Julie/Tim)
The Things We Build to Burn
Characters/Pairing: Tim, Julie/Tim (Landry, Matt, Tyra)
Summary: I traded my conscience for you in confidence.
Rating: PG-13-ish / Word Count: 2400
Author's Note: Not only is the longest thing I've ever written, but it's something totally different for me, and it's a new fandom (and definitely a new ship). So please, give the fic a chance even if you're not crazy for the pairing, and leave me feedback. Other than the abrupt ending, I'm pretty happy with it so I'd really like to know what you guys think. And I kind of have a companion piece going so there may or may not be a sequel or prequel, depending on the feedback for this one.
This has been building since we’ve been kissing and I know how it’s going to end
Her new fiancée (boyfriend) announces their engagement at the sandwich shop. They come in (walking all weird because of the way his arms are around her waist) and Saracen looks so happy that the sides of his smile could fall of his face. Julie’s smiling too but she looks awkward, out of place, and you briefly wonder what’s going on before you hear Landry slapping Saracen on the back and congratulating the girl who was in your bed just a few hours ago.
Soon enough, Landry’s standing on a chair in the middle of the shop, yelling at everybody to toast with their sodas, and single-handedly making Julie hide behind her hands like a teenager with a hooker for a mother. Saracen just sits there, not saying a word, looking back and forth between Julie and Landry, still all happy.
He’s touching her the whole night, his hands on her waist, his arm around her neck, his fingers tugging on her shirt or brushing long blonde hair behind her ears. He keeps constant contact like he thinks he’ll lose her otherwise. You think it’s kinda sad because he still thinks he has her to lose.
Well I’m blowing smoke out of your window and you’re slipping back into your dress.
Her bedroom is four shades darker than it was when the two of you entered (attached at the mouth) but nobody’s come looking for either one of you (your girlfriend, her fiancée). You know they won’t (Saracen’s too trusting and Tyra just doesn’t give a shit) so you light a cigarette while she reaches for her underwear and when she stops mid-reach and raises an eyebrow, you simply roll your eyes and slide open the nearest window with one arm. Her eyebrows slowly lower and she seems to think that’s good enough because then she’s crawling under the bed to find her shoe and letting you sit there, smoking in her room.
You keep the cigarette in your hand as you watch her move around the small space, tying her long blonde hair into a low ponytail, and tripping over herself as she puts her heels back on. When she’s done she catches you looking but you don’t move your gaze from hers and she gives you a look like she’s waiting for you to say something (she should know better). When you don’t, she rolls her eyes and makes her escape, not even looking at you (because you’ve never been worth her time). You stare at the door after she’s gone before turning to look out the second-story window, tapping your cigarette on the frame as you do.
It doesn’t take her long to make it back outside where the party’s going on and into the arms of her fiancée (who doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary because she looks exactly the same as she did when she left). She looks a little awkward in her dress and heels but not at all messed up, and you know it’s because she’s the new and improved Julie now (never Jules). It makes you miss the girl she was when you started the whateveritis (the girl that felt bad about lying).
Her engagement party continues in full swing for the rest of the night but her touch still lingers on your skin and the drink he poured you hours ago is still lulling your body into a calmness sip by sip. So you wait by the window until your girlfriend comes in and pulls you out of her best friend’s bedroom with a you don’t belong in here. You give her a nod and let her (because you finally get that you never will).
From saint to sinner. Well, which one is it?
You snort as you walk into the room where she’s tugging at the sides of her dress, her mouth turned into a tight little frown, and her gaze fixed on her own reflection. She stops when she hears you though, crosses one arm self-consciously over her chest like you may have some sort of supernatural power to pull it down from across the room. You can’t help but smirk at that and she notices, tries to look annoyed as she rolls her eyes (you know she’s not).
‘I thought white was suppose to be for virgins.’ You chuckle slightly with your swaying legs. She pauses and you know she’s trying to come up with something to say.
‘I thought alcohol was for after noon.’ Her comeback’s lame and she knows it.
‘Five a’clock somewhere, sweetheart.’ You laugh as you hold the can up in a cheers. She lets out a huff and puts the hand not holding up her dress on her hip.
‘What are you doing here Tim, besides annoying me to death?’
‘What? You don’t like my company anymore? As I recall, you liked it just fine the other night.’ You’re within a foot of her now and, even with her standing on her pedestal (where she’s always been, as far you’re concerned), you’ve still got a good inch and a half on her. You use that to your advantage, sending a condescending smirk down at her.
‘That wasn’t the other night Tim, that was weeks ago and stop pretending you actually care that I’m getting married.’ This time it’s real disgust that you see in her eyes.
You back up a step and glance around the room, taking the last gulp of your beer. She’s still staring at you but you keep ignoring her (like you know she hates) because you don’t want to look at her anymore.
‘Seriously Tim, what are you even doing here?’ Her voice is defeated now and it makes you feel stupid and childish and like a ten year old who just did something really stupid and naïve.
‘Your fiancée,’ you annunciate the world with a cruel chuckle because you want her to feel worse than you do, ‘wants to know if there’s anything he can pick up for dinner. You’re not answering your phone and it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress apparently.’ You deliver the line mockingly because it’s pathetic that Saracen is worried about dinner when his best friend is sleeping with the girl he’s about to promise forever.
You know she’s thinking the same thing by the way her eyes face you and the way she lets the loud silence take over the room before shattering it with her quiet voice.
‘Tell him no.’ She shuffles off her pedestal and hurries out of the room (palm still holding up the front of her dress as she goes).
Grant me one last wish and play Russian roulette as we kiss.
You show up late to the rehearsal so when you come through the door, it’s to find her pacing back and forth behind the big oak doors that’ll show her the way down the aisle. Her hands are twisting inside their grip on one another and she’s mumbling excuses and reasons to herself under her breath.
‘Cold feet?’ You ask it with a smirk because you already knows the answer and she stops mid-pace before she turns to face you. When she does, it’s with a sneer that’s not good enough to fool.
‘Go away Tim, I told you that we‘re over. I’m going to marry Matt.’
‘First of all, I’m here to be a groomsmen thank you very much.’ You wrap you arm around the pillar in the center of the room and circle it until your right in front of her. There are only inches between your faces and you let your voice lower as you regard the look in her eyes (like she’s begging you to let it go). ‘Second, you were always going to marry Saracen, never changed nutin’ before.’
You don’t have a third point so you let your lips take on hers before she’s had time to come up with anything to say (even though you‘re right and you both know it). She responds almost instantly so you slide your arm around her small waist, turning her body and pressing her back up against the church wall, despite the fact that her fiancée (or anyone) could come through the door any minute. Her body melts into your touch and you can’t help but smirk into her kiss as the arm around your neck pulls you closer to her face.
You’ve just slid your palm down the front of her jeans when the sound of the organ playing her song catches both of you off guard. Suddenly she’s pushing her palm flat against your chest with all of her strength and you can’t help but stumble backwards. While you regain your footing, she sighs and straightens her clothes, tightens her ponytail, and mumbles ‘I hate you’ before she swings open the doors and walks straight through.
You don’t bother to reply because you both know how she claims to feel about you (but you’re the only one who seems to have realized that she‘s lying).
I’m in way too deep and every night I erase the day with the strongest kind of drink
During the bachelor party you get plastered (what’s new) but this time so does Saracen so you’re not alone when you stumble towards the balcony and let yourself half-fall onto the pavement. Looking down at Dillon makes you remember all the things you’re never going to have and the things you’re never going to leave behind. The thought makes you take a long swig from the bottle in your hand before turning to your friend.
He’s taken it upon himself to fill the night air’s silence with random bullshit you couldn’t care less about. You try to pay attention but then he starts talking about his Julie and their future together and suddenly you feel the need to upchuck.
Every word he says makes you hate yourself, but worse, it makes you hate him (more than you’ve ever hated anyone). He’s one of your best friends but he has no idea what’s been going on behind his back for months and you hate him for being that naïve and stupid (and still getting her in the end).
He stops in the middle of whatever he’s saying with a thoughtful smirk and asks your opinion on something with a slurred ‘wh-whadda you think, Tim?’
It would have been perfect to just tell him right then. You’re both drunk so you could blame the spilling of your guts on the strength of your drink and Saracen could never hold his liquor so there’s only a 50/50 chance he would understand what you're saying, much less remember it come morning.
The reasons you rattle off in your head make it seem like a damn good idea, and that’s what makes you stop (your ideas are never good).
So you stare at him for a long minute before you mumble ‘too drunk to think’ as you bring the bottle back up to your mouth because truthfully, you’re nowhere near drunk enough.
I’m lying in my bed and remembering what you said.
The night before her wedding you lie in your bed and stare up at the ceiling for what feels like hours.
You’re drunk enough that you know it’s going to make tomorrow all the more miserable but sober enough to remember that you haven’t washed your sheets since she last spent the night. With that memory suddenly comes her scent and you feel like her smell is surrounding you (even though you know you it ain’t). Once you smell it, you can’t get away from it and it doesn’t take long for you to feel like it’s smothering you.
Before you know what you’re doing, you’re out of bed and out the front door and you don’t remember until your in your truck that you’re shirtless and barefoot. It doesn’t bother you enough to turn around because by the time you pull off your street, you know where you’re going.
When you get to her house you park your truck down the street and walk to her dark window. When you see that the blinds are down, you softly rap your knuckles against the glass and stare down at your bare feet while you wait for her to stir and let you in. She doesn’t.
Instead, she sighs and rolls her eyes when she realizes it’s you and blocks the window with a stern face and angry eyes.
‘Jules.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ Her words are quick and harsh and she has this look on her face that’s waiting to shoot you down.
‘We need to talk.’
‘No we don’t.’ Her tone is bored and it makes the panic rise under your skin.
‘You don’t wanna marry Saracen, you know you don’t.’ You hate the desperation in your voice.
‘Yes I do!’ Her words come out like a loud hiss and she scowls at the volume. Then she sends a quick look over her shoulder like she thinks if someone had heard her, they would already be standing behind her.
‘Julie, he’s not right for you! You know that and I know that.’
‘No, I definitely do not.’
‘Maybe a long time ago, maybe sophomore year, but not now, not after everything you and we’ve been through.'
‘You’re wrong.‘ She’s not listening to you, you can feel the wall that she's put between the two of you and it’s keeping your words from ever getting to her. ‘Look, nothing you say is going to chance my mind Tim. So just… please leave, ok? Don’t make this whole thing worse.’
Before you can answer she slides the window shut and lets the blinds fall in one quick collapse, separating the two of you once and for all.
Can’t make a wife out of a whore.
She doesn’t go through with the wedding but she doesn’t come looking for you either.
A couple months later, you hear through gossip that she’s finishing school somewhere back east. You don’t know where and you don’t want to know (because then you‘ll do something stupid).
All you do know is that Saracen takes it hard and you try to help him because you feel guilty but you don’t really know how. In the end, you not knowing what to say and just ignoring the whole subject all together seems to work out just fine. It’s the opposite of everybody else so he seems to appreciate the silence.
You kind of hate that he’s become your best friend now more than ever.
Characters/Pairing: Tim, Julie/Tim (Landry, Matt, Tyra)
Summary: I traded my conscience for you in confidence.
Rating: PG-13-ish / Word Count: 2400
Author's Note: Not only is the longest thing I've ever written, but it's something totally different for me, and it's a new fandom (and definitely a new ship). So please, give the fic a chance even if you're not crazy for the pairing, and leave me feedback. Other than the abrupt ending, I'm pretty happy with it so I'd really like to know what you guys think. And I kind of have a companion piece going so there may or may not be a sequel or prequel, depending on the feedback for this one.
This has been building since we’ve been kissing and I know how it’s going to end
Her new fiancée (boyfriend) announces their engagement at the sandwich shop. They come in (walking all weird because of the way his arms are around her waist) and Saracen looks so happy that the sides of his smile could fall of his face. Julie’s smiling too but she looks awkward, out of place, and you briefly wonder what’s going on before you hear Landry slapping Saracen on the back and congratulating the girl who was in your bed just a few hours ago.
Soon enough, Landry’s standing on a chair in the middle of the shop, yelling at everybody to toast with their sodas, and single-handedly making Julie hide behind her hands like a teenager with a hooker for a mother. Saracen just sits there, not saying a word, looking back and forth between Julie and Landry, still all happy.
He’s touching her the whole night, his hands on her waist, his arm around her neck, his fingers tugging on her shirt or brushing long blonde hair behind her ears. He keeps constant contact like he thinks he’ll lose her otherwise. You think it’s kinda sad because he still thinks he has her to lose.
Well I’m blowing smoke out of your window and you’re slipping back into your dress.
Her bedroom is four shades darker than it was when the two of you entered (attached at the mouth) but nobody’s come looking for either one of you (your girlfriend, her fiancée). You know they won’t (Saracen’s too trusting and Tyra just doesn’t give a shit) so you light a cigarette while she reaches for her underwear and when she stops mid-reach and raises an eyebrow, you simply roll your eyes and slide open the nearest window with one arm. Her eyebrows slowly lower and she seems to think that’s good enough because then she’s crawling under the bed to find her shoe and letting you sit there, smoking in her room.
You keep the cigarette in your hand as you watch her move around the small space, tying her long blonde hair into a low ponytail, and tripping over herself as she puts her heels back on. When she’s done she catches you looking but you don’t move your gaze from hers and she gives you a look like she’s waiting for you to say something (she should know better). When you don’t, she rolls her eyes and makes her escape, not even looking at you (because you’ve never been worth her time). You stare at the door after she’s gone before turning to look out the second-story window, tapping your cigarette on the frame as you do.
It doesn’t take her long to make it back outside where the party’s going on and into the arms of her fiancée (who doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary because she looks exactly the same as she did when she left). She looks a little awkward in her dress and heels but not at all messed up, and you know it’s because she’s the new and improved Julie now (never Jules). It makes you miss the girl she was when you started the whateveritis (the girl that felt bad about lying).
Her engagement party continues in full swing for the rest of the night but her touch still lingers on your skin and the drink he poured you hours ago is still lulling your body into a calmness sip by sip. So you wait by the window until your girlfriend comes in and pulls you out of her best friend’s bedroom with a you don’t belong in here. You give her a nod and let her (because you finally get that you never will).
From saint to sinner. Well, which one is it?
You snort as you walk into the room where she’s tugging at the sides of her dress, her mouth turned into a tight little frown, and her gaze fixed on her own reflection. She stops when she hears you though, crosses one arm self-consciously over her chest like you may have some sort of supernatural power to pull it down from across the room. You can’t help but smirk at that and she notices, tries to look annoyed as she rolls her eyes (you know she’s not).
‘I thought white was suppose to be for virgins.’ You chuckle slightly with your swaying legs. She pauses and you know she’s trying to come up with something to say.
‘I thought alcohol was for after noon.’ Her comeback’s lame and she knows it.
‘Five a’clock somewhere, sweetheart.’ You laugh as you hold the can up in a cheers. She lets out a huff and puts the hand not holding up her dress on her hip.
‘What are you doing here Tim, besides annoying me to death?’
‘What? You don’t like my company anymore? As I recall, you liked it just fine the other night.’ You’re within a foot of her now and, even with her standing on her pedestal (where she’s always been, as far you’re concerned), you’ve still got a good inch and a half on her. You use that to your advantage, sending a condescending smirk down at her.
‘That wasn’t the other night Tim, that was weeks ago and stop pretending you actually care that I’m getting married.’ This time it’s real disgust that you see in her eyes.
You back up a step and glance around the room, taking the last gulp of your beer. She’s still staring at you but you keep ignoring her (like you know she hates) because you don’t want to look at her anymore.
‘Seriously Tim, what are you even doing here?’ Her voice is defeated now and it makes you feel stupid and childish and like a ten year old who just did something really stupid and naïve.
‘Your fiancée,’ you annunciate the world with a cruel chuckle because you want her to feel worse than you do, ‘wants to know if there’s anything he can pick up for dinner. You’re not answering your phone and it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress apparently.’ You deliver the line mockingly because it’s pathetic that Saracen is worried about dinner when his best friend is sleeping with the girl he’s about to promise forever.
You know she’s thinking the same thing by the way her eyes face you and the way she lets the loud silence take over the room before shattering it with her quiet voice.
‘Tell him no.’ She shuffles off her pedestal and hurries out of the room (palm still holding up the front of her dress as she goes).
Grant me one last wish and play Russian roulette as we kiss.
You show up late to the rehearsal so when you come through the door, it’s to find her pacing back and forth behind the big oak doors that’ll show her the way down the aisle. Her hands are twisting inside their grip on one another and she’s mumbling excuses and reasons to herself under her breath.
‘Cold feet?’ You ask it with a smirk because you already knows the answer and she stops mid-pace before she turns to face you. When she does, it’s with a sneer that’s not good enough to fool.
‘Go away Tim, I told you that we‘re over. I’m going to marry Matt.’
‘First of all, I’m here to be a groomsmen thank you very much.’ You wrap you arm around the pillar in the center of the room and circle it until your right in front of her. There are only inches between your faces and you let your voice lower as you regard the look in her eyes (like she’s begging you to let it go). ‘Second, you were always going to marry Saracen, never changed nutin’ before.’
You don’t have a third point so you let your lips take on hers before she’s had time to come up with anything to say (even though you‘re right and you both know it). She responds almost instantly so you slide your arm around her small waist, turning her body and pressing her back up against the church wall, despite the fact that her fiancée (or anyone) could come through the door any minute. Her body melts into your touch and you can’t help but smirk into her kiss as the arm around your neck pulls you closer to her face.
You’ve just slid your palm down the front of her jeans when the sound of the organ playing her song catches both of you off guard. Suddenly she’s pushing her palm flat against your chest with all of her strength and you can’t help but stumble backwards. While you regain your footing, she sighs and straightens her clothes, tightens her ponytail, and mumbles ‘I hate you’ before she swings open the doors and walks straight through.
You don’t bother to reply because you both know how she claims to feel about you (but you’re the only one who seems to have realized that she‘s lying).
I’m in way too deep and every night I erase the day with the strongest kind of drink
During the bachelor party you get plastered (what’s new) but this time so does Saracen so you’re not alone when you stumble towards the balcony and let yourself half-fall onto the pavement. Looking down at Dillon makes you remember all the things you’re never going to have and the things you’re never going to leave behind. The thought makes you take a long swig from the bottle in your hand before turning to your friend.
He’s taken it upon himself to fill the night air’s silence with random bullshit you couldn’t care less about. You try to pay attention but then he starts talking about his Julie and their future together and suddenly you feel the need to upchuck.
Every word he says makes you hate yourself, but worse, it makes you hate him (more than you’ve ever hated anyone). He’s one of your best friends but he has no idea what’s been going on behind his back for months and you hate him for being that naïve and stupid (and still getting her in the end).
He stops in the middle of whatever he’s saying with a thoughtful smirk and asks your opinion on something with a slurred ‘wh-whadda you think, Tim?’
It would have been perfect to just tell him right then. You’re both drunk so you could blame the spilling of your guts on the strength of your drink and Saracen could never hold his liquor so there’s only a 50/50 chance he would understand what you're saying, much less remember it come morning.
The reasons you rattle off in your head make it seem like a damn good idea, and that’s what makes you stop (your ideas are never good).
So you stare at him for a long minute before you mumble ‘too drunk to think’ as you bring the bottle back up to your mouth because truthfully, you’re nowhere near drunk enough.
I’m lying in my bed and remembering what you said.
The night before her wedding you lie in your bed and stare up at the ceiling for what feels like hours.
You’re drunk enough that you know it’s going to make tomorrow all the more miserable but sober enough to remember that you haven’t washed your sheets since she last spent the night. With that memory suddenly comes her scent and you feel like her smell is surrounding you (even though you know you it ain’t). Once you smell it, you can’t get away from it and it doesn’t take long for you to feel like it’s smothering you.
Before you know what you’re doing, you’re out of bed and out the front door and you don’t remember until your in your truck that you’re shirtless and barefoot. It doesn’t bother you enough to turn around because by the time you pull off your street, you know where you’re going.
When you get to her house you park your truck down the street and walk to her dark window. When you see that the blinds are down, you softly rap your knuckles against the glass and stare down at your bare feet while you wait for her to stir and let you in. She doesn’t.
Instead, she sighs and rolls her eyes when she realizes it’s you and blocks the window with a stern face and angry eyes.
‘Jules.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ Her words are quick and harsh and she has this look on her face that’s waiting to shoot you down.
‘We need to talk.’
‘No we don’t.’ Her tone is bored and it makes the panic rise under your skin.
‘You don’t wanna marry Saracen, you know you don’t.’ You hate the desperation in your voice.
‘Yes I do!’ Her words come out like a loud hiss and she scowls at the volume. Then she sends a quick look over her shoulder like she thinks if someone had heard her, they would already be standing behind her.
‘Julie, he’s not right for you! You know that and I know that.’
‘No, I definitely do not.’
‘Maybe a long time ago, maybe sophomore year, but not now, not after everything you and we’ve been through.'
‘You’re wrong.‘ She’s not listening to you, you can feel the wall that she's put between the two of you and it’s keeping your words from ever getting to her. ‘Look, nothing you say is going to chance my mind Tim. So just… please leave, ok? Don’t make this whole thing worse.’
Before you can answer she slides the window shut and lets the blinds fall in one quick collapse, separating the two of you once and for all.
Can’t make a wife out of a whore.
She doesn’t go through with the wedding but she doesn’t come looking for you either.
A couple months later, you hear through gossip that she’s finishing school somewhere back east. You don’t know where and you don’t want to know (because then you‘ll do something stupid).
All you do know is that Saracen takes it hard and you try to help him because you feel guilty but you don’t really know how. In the end, you not knowing what to say and just ignoring the whole subject all together seems to work out just fine. It’s the opposite of everybody else so he seems to appreciate the silence.
You kind of hate that he’s become your best friend now more than ever.