Romancing the Pain - Part 3
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: M (for language)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to mmm_kekse cuz she kicked my muse into high gear. Seriously, if not for you, this chapter would not have come to fruition until Monday or Tuesday. *hands you a candy bar, a lollipop and a hug* Thanks! Hope y’all enjoy the new installment; sorry if it's a little bit all over the place. I wrote it in like 10 minutes.
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 3
Silvia maneuvered the car into the garage, barely avoiding scratching the side of the wall with the rearview mirror, so distracted and consumed she was in her thoughts. She killed the engine and ran a tired hand through her hair, fingernails lightly scratching at her scalp in an attempt to try to soothe her aching mind. It was a pointless gesture. Sighing in defeat, she got out of the car, locked it and ascended the stairs that led out of the garage. Reaching the top, she stepped out into the night air and for a moment took a look at the smatterings of stars that polka dotted the midnight blue sky. They twinkled down merrily at her; their carefree winking a stark contrast to the hurricane of dark emotions building and churning within the redhead.
Silvia sighed and averted her gaze. Again, the stars served as a reminder of happier times. Happier times with Pepa. And she was supposed to be miserable, not happy. So instead, she flicked her gaze to the house. As expected, it was dark save for one solitary light that shone weakly through one lone window. The kitchen window. It was the only light in the house Silvia expected to be on. And she was not disappointed. She stared at the house with an expression akin to a child facing a new creature with which they were previously unfamiliar. The redhead flinched at the sight before her, as if the image scorched her eyes. She tucked her head back low and slowly made her way up the stairs that led to the front door.
Fishing out her keys, she slid one into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open as she did so. Silvia hovered over the threshold, almost afraid to enter the house. But more afraid of what she would find. Her eyes adjusted to the smoky darkness of the living room, penetrated only slightly by the flooding of weak yellow light from the kitchen. The redhead almost jumped out of her skin when a voice spoke up from the couch.
“You’re back.”
Silvia’s grip on her keys tightened unconsciously and the grooves on the keys dug painfully into her skin. She forced her hand to relax and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her. Leaning against the door, she fixed her stare on the couch.
“Si.” Silvia didn’t move from her spot as she waited for Pepa to respond.
Pepa forced herself up to a sitting position, a feat in itself seeing as she had been drinking heavily since noon and the alcohol had all but impaired her mobility. She slumped against the cushions even as she turned a fuzzy head towards her wife. The taller woman squinted against the darkness, barely making out a form against the back of the front door.
“Had a good day?” Pepa asked sarcastically, proud at being able to string that simple sentence together over a tongue that felt sizes too big and bloated.
“Don’t start, Pepa,” Silvia warned, her tone clearly stating for the taller woman to back off.
Pepa scoffed and was about to retort when Silvia flicked on the lights to the living room. The retort died at the back of Pepa’s throat, replaced with a groan of pain as the harsh brightness flared up her alcohol induced bloodshot eyes.
“Joder! What the hell did you do that for?! Mierda!” Pepa squeezed her eyes shut at the intrusion and blindly reached for the fresh bottle of beer, fingers sliding over the wet bottle, almost tripping over themselves in their haste to wrap around it. Pepa pulled her arm back and pressed the rim of the bottle desperately to her lips, swallowing the liquid that spilled over the glass into her awaiting mouth.
Silvia snarled at Pepa’s reaction. She dropped her bag and keys onto a nearby table, stalked over to her wife and forcibly yanked the bottle out of Pepa’s hand. She watched with detachment as the seated woman choked, dribbles of beer leaking out from the cracks of her lips. Silvia stood over Pepa stoically as the taller woman glared dangerously at her.
“Give me back my fuckin’ beer, Silvia,” Pepa slurred. She leaned forward unsteadily, trying to wrangle the bottle out of her wife’s hand.
Silvia kept the bottle out of reach even as she pushed Pepa unceremoniously back onto the couch. Again, she watched with no sense of pleasure or amusement as the taller woman fell back against the cushions, arms and legs flailing out in all directions, her sense of balance so obviously impeded by her drinking. Satisfied that Pepa was not going to move; Silvia turned and gathered a few of the dozens of bottles that lay empty on the coffee table. Grasping the bottlenecks, she made her way to the kitchen, flinging them viciously into the trash.
“Do you have to make such a racket?” Pepa mumbled from the couch.
Silvia whirled around to pin Pepa with a deadly glare. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you would stop drinking yourself into a stupor!”
Pepa growled, her anger momentarily clearing the alcoholic fog in her brain. She pulled herself back up, struggling to face the direction of the kitchen. She flinched slightly when she met Silvia’s eyes. Eyes that were usually full of life were now devoid of emotion. They were blank. Empty. Even that slight glimmer of anger was drowned under the emptiness that exuded from Silvia’s normally vibrant eyes. Pepa suppressed the urge to turn away from her wife. The fact that she had this urge scared her to no end. So she concentrated on the anger instead.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be drinking if you were actually home once in a while!”
Silence fell between the two women as the words uttered from Pepa’s mouth floated between them, seasoning the atmosphere with trepidation and tension. Neither spoke for what seemed like hours and as the silence continued, both women could feel the distance between them widening. It opened up between them like a cavern, yawning wide and deep.
Silvia was the first to break free of her paralysis. She threw the remaining bottle, held firmly in her other hand; the one that was still somewhat full, into the kitchen sink. It exploded upon impact against the solidity of the sink, glass shattering against the side of the sink, peppering the counter with shards of green glass. The sudden noise was deafening. It punched through the atmosphere with a resounding BANG! resulting in causing the tension to climb several notches.
Pepa stared at Silvia, her brow furrowed. It was like looking at a stranger. A stranger with her wife’s auburn hair, her slight physique, her facial features. But beneath the exterior lay someone Pepa did not recognize. Couldn’t recognize. Fresh tears brewed in the taller woman’s eyes and they burned as Pepa resisted letting them fall.
Silvia remained aloof even as she caught the mirage of emotions that flitted across Pepa’s face. She felt nothing upon seeing Pepa’s eyes water but felt that she had to erase them. Walking slowly over to the slumped woman on the couch, she sat down stiffly.
Pepa immediately dropped her head onto Silvia’s lap, taking in whatever comfort the redhead was prepared to offer her. It was a halfhearted attempt to quell her fear and sorrow because laying there, Pepa felt strange, foreign. Like something didn’t fit. She involuntarily tensed when Silvia’s fingers carded through her messy hair.
Silvia felt the tension coursing through the taller woman’s body but did not comment on it. Holding Pepa felt wrong; like she was doing something she was not suppose to. Nevertheless, her fingers automatically descended upon Pepa’s hair in a mechanical movement that was perfected over the last week or so. Together they sat on the couch, both staring off into a corner of a wall, carefully making sure not to look at each other.
This was how they would end their day.
This is what they had become.