Ficlet: Easy Come, Easy Go (Logan/Veronia) PG-13
Title: Easy Come, Easy Go (1/1)
Author: Kel
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 548
Rating: PG-13
Summary: No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.
Spoilers: Up to 2.20
Notes:This is something I didn't intend to write, but just came out when I had a blank page in front of me. I'm not even sure if I'm posting it anywhere else but here, as it's just me rambling to work through my damage. It's from Veronica's POV, in the aftermath of THAT moment. The one that killed all of us. WARNING! This might make it burn more. I apologize in advance, but I just can't write anything even close to happy right now. I'm pathetic, I know. Oh, and I'm flying solo without a beta here, since this one just came from nowhere, so forgive me if there are any errors.
No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.
After her faux split with Duncan, Veronica wore her wallowing on her sleeve, blasting every depressing tune she could find. A playlist of standard brokenhearted ballads she normally mocked was almost too obvious, but proved just convincing enough. It was staged heartache, easily pulled off, because she’d been there before, already knew how to grieve for him.
Sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, knees drawn up to her chest, arms protectively wrapped around as if trying to hold herself together, keep from falling apart, she wished there was a song that would tell her what to do. But the ache was all encompassing, screaming at her so loudly, drowning out everything else.
Except she could still hear the dull thud of the elevator doors as they finally closed, shielding her from his penetrating gaze that silently pleaded with her not to go, shutting him out of her pain. But it wasn’t enough. She’d given away too much, and no matter how thick the walls she put between them, he would always know she didn’t want to lose him from her life.
Either.
When she replayed it all in her head, she kept trying to conveniently omit that word, but it wouldn’t stay away, reminding her he’d made that confession first.
She knew all about the supposed notion that truth could be found at the bottom of a bottle. But what good was liquid honesty, slurred and blurred by inebriation, all too easily forgotten in the morning.
She remembered every word.
It was all she could think about after she ran out. It took her twenty minutes to get to her car, talking herself in to and out of going back so many times, an emotional tug-of-war beginning even before the door closed behind her.
Now she could only wonder what if, even though the question was pretty much moot at this point. But if she stopped asking it would only lead to more questions, ones she didn’t want answers for.
When did he call Kendall?
Was he reaching for his cell phone the moment after she left?
Or was he still reaching for her?
She would never know.
It was easy to hate him, and even easier to despise Kendall, a toss up between whom she should loathe more, but all she had to do was look in a mirror and there was no contest. She could barely stand the sight of the hollow, hurt-filled eyes staring back.
She’d had an epiphany somewhere in the fifth hour of her solitude, a somewhat disturbing one.
She could forgive him for fucking Kendall.
It was a disappointment, but not unforgivable.
He was right last night to assume she was good at ‘seeing through people’, her comment about having his pick of the bimbos more about old habits dying hard than what she actually believed. He wasn’t that guy anymore. Maybe he never was.
What she couldn’t get past was the humiliation, putting herself out there, taking that leap only to be met with a blank stare. Kendall just gave her the out she was looking for.
The hero is the one that stays.
She was good at playing that role too, when it was easy.
But no one writes songs about the ones that come easy.
Author: Kel
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 548
Rating: PG-13
Summary: No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.
Spoilers: Up to 2.20
Notes:This is something I didn't intend to write, but just came out when I had a blank page in front of me. I'm not even sure if I'm posting it anywhere else but here, as it's just me rambling to work through my damage. It's from Veronica's POV, in the aftermath of THAT moment. The one that killed all of us. WARNING! This might make it burn more. I apologize in advance, but I just can't write anything even close to happy right now. I'm pathetic, I know. Oh, and I'm flying solo without a beta here, since this one just came from nowhere, so forgive me if there are any errors.
No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.
After her faux split with Duncan, Veronica wore her wallowing on her sleeve, blasting every depressing tune she could find. A playlist of standard brokenhearted ballads she normally mocked was almost too obvious, but proved just convincing enough. It was staged heartache, easily pulled off, because she’d been there before, already knew how to grieve for him.
Sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, knees drawn up to her chest, arms protectively wrapped around as if trying to hold herself together, keep from falling apart, she wished there was a song that would tell her what to do. But the ache was all encompassing, screaming at her so loudly, drowning out everything else.
Except she could still hear the dull thud of the elevator doors as they finally closed, shielding her from his penetrating gaze that silently pleaded with her not to go, shutting him out of her pain. But it wasn’t enough. She’d given away too much, and no matter how thick the walls she put between them, he would always know she didn’t want to lose him from her life.
Either.
When she replayed it all in her head, she kept trying to conveniently omit that word, but it wouldn’t stay away, reminding her he’d made that confession first.
She knew all about the supposed notion that truth could be found at the bottom of a bottle. But what good was liquid honesty, slurred and blurred by inebriation, all too easily forgotten in the morning.
She remembered every word.
It was all she could think about after she ran out. It took her twenty minutes to get to her car, talking herself in to and out of going back so many times, an emotional tug-of-war beginning even before the door closed behind her.
Now she could only wonder what if, even though the question was pretty much moot at this point. But if she stopped asking it would only lead to more questions, ones she didn’t want answers for.
When did he call Kendall?
Was he reaching for his cell phone the moment after she left?
Or was he still reaching for her?
She would never know.
It was easy to hate him, and even easier to despise Kendall, a toss up between whom she should loathe more, but all she had to do was look in a mirror and there was no contest. She could barely stand the sight of the hollow, hurt-filled eyes staring back.
She’d had an epiphany somewhere in the fifth hour of her solitude, a somewhat disturbing one.
She could forgive him for fucking Kendall.
It was a disappointment, but not unforgivable.
He was right last night to assume she was good at ‘seeing through people’, her comment about having his pick of the bimbos more about old habits dying hard than what she actually believed. He wasn’t that guy anymore. Maybe he never was.
What she couldn’t get past was the humiliation, putting herself out there, taking that leap only to be met with a blank stare. Kendall just gave her the out she was looking for.
The hero is the one that stays.
She was good at playing that role too, when it was easy.
But no one writes songs about the ones that come easy.