RP: Grey Street
Date: 11 October 2005
Character(s): Ernie Macmillan
Location: London
Status: Private
Summary: Ernie thinks about what he's left behind.
Completion: Complete
Ernie listened through the headphones for a moment before pausing the CD and strumming his guitar. It was just past three in the morning. He needed to be at work in a few hours, but sleep, as usual, was fleeting.
I dream myself a thousand times around the world, but I can't get out of this place.
Eleanor. Standing there in front of him at Socks, stumbling through an apology. Somehow he finds the courage to ask her to stay and have dinner with him.
There's an emptiness inside her, and she'll do anything to fill it in.
Her hand runs up his chest and comes to rest on his shoulder. For an instant, he worried that she wouldn't kiss him back.
And though it's red blood bleeding from her now, it feels like cold blue ice in her heart.
A letter. Surprising in what it says. 'I wish you were here too. You don't have to worry that I won't want you around anymore. I'm glad you told me, because I want to be there for you.' For the first time in days, he smiles.
And though she swears He doesn't listen, there's still a hope in her He might.
He climbs into bed and, although she's sound asleep, she rolls over and wraps herself around him. If he's not careful, he could grow accustomed to this.
There's a loneliness inside her and she'll do anything to fill it in.
Ernie wiped at his eyes. It was difficult to see the fretboard. Determined to learn this song, he strummed harder, voice raised a bit louder.
There's a stranger speaks outside her door, says take what you can from your dreams, make them as real as anything.
She's shouting now. Something about them sitting around and making small talk. She stomps out of his bedroom and it hits him. She...cares. About...him.
I live on the corner of Grey Street and the end of the world.
He finally unfastens her bra and she's...beautiful. She looks worried about what he's thinking, but she has no need. At a loss for words to express what he's feeling right now, he kisses her. Fiercely, passionately.
She feels like kicking in all the windows and setting fire to this life.
Yes. She says yes. It's just a whisper, but that's enough. And then he's sprawled on his back on the pavement and they're kissing. She says yes.
She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright.
The memories were assaulting him now and Ernie set his guitar aside. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Why was he sitting here in this terrible room with the broken television and the lumpy bed? Why wasn't he back at his house with Eleanor? Everything was so hopeless and he didn't know that he'd ever felt this alone. Not even after he and Lisa broke things off. Not even during the darkest days of the war. He belonged with Eleanor. Trying to work out his problems. Together. He climbed out of the chair and began tossing things into his bag. He was going home.
But all the colors mix together - to grey. And it breaks her heart.
It's red. And there's a dull roar in his ears. He jabs the wand into Smith's neck and the Unforgiveable is half-way out of his mouth before he catches himself. In horror, he drops his wand and lets go.
It breaks her heart.
Next time it could be Eleanor, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He stopped packing just as abruptly as he'd begun. Dropping onto the bed, Ernie wept.
Character(s): Ernie Macmillan
Location: London
Status: Private
Summary: Ernie thinks about what he's left behind.
Completion: Complete
Ernie listened through the headphones for a moment before pausing the CD and strumming his guitar. It was just past three in the morning. He needed to be at work in a few hours, but sleep, as usual, was fleeting.
I dream myself a thousand times around the world, but I can't get out of this place.
Eleanor. Standing there in front of him at Socks, stumbling through an apology. Somehow he finds the courage to ask her to stay and have dinner with him.
There's an emptiness inside her, and she'll do anything to fill it in.
Her hand runs up his chest and comes to rest on his shoulder. For an instant, he worried that she wouldn't kiss him back.
And though it's red blood bleeding from her now, it feels like cold blue ice in her heart.
A letter. Surprising in what it says. 'I wish you were here too. You don't have to worry that I won't want you around anymore. I'm glad you told me, because I want to be there for you.' For the first time in days, he smiles.
And though she swears He doesn't listen, there's still a hope in her He might.
He climbs into bed and, although she's sound asleep, she rolls over and wraps herself around him. If he's not careful, he could grow accustomed to this.
There's a loneliness inside her and she'll do anything to fill it in.
Ernie wiped at his eyes. It was difficult to see the fretboard. Determined to learn this song, he strummed harder, voice raised a bit louder.
There's a stranger speaks outside her door, says take what you can from your dreams, make them as real as anything.
She's shouting now. Something about them sitting around and making small talk. She stomps out of his bedroom and it hits him. She...cares. About...him.
I live on the corner of Grey Street and the end of the world.
He finally unfastens her bra and she's...beautiful. She looks worried about what he's thinking, but she has no need. At a loss for words to express what he's feeling right now, he kisses her. Fiercely, passionately.
She feels like kicking in all the windows and setting fire to this life.
Yes. She says yes. It's just a whisper, but that's enough. And then he's sprawled on his back on the pavement and they're kissing. She says yes.
She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright.
The memories were assaulting him now and Ernie set his guitar aside. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Why was he sitting here in this terrible room with the broken television and the lumpy bed? Why wasn't he back at his house with Eleanor? Everything was so hopeless and he didn't know that he'd ever felt this alone. Not even after he and Lisa broke things off. Not even during the darkest days of the war. He belonged with Eleanor. Trying to work out his problems. Together. He climbed out of the chair and began tossing things into his bag. He was going home.
But all the colors mix together - to grey. And it breaks her heart.
It's red. And there's a dull roar in his ears. He jabs the wand into Smith's neck and the Unforgiveable is half-way out of his mouth before he catches himself. In horror, he drops his wand and lets go.
It breaks her heart.
Next time it could be Eleanor, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He stopped packing just as abruptly as he'd begun. Dropping onto the bed, Ernie wept.