justprompts: Low.
So fucked.
As a certifiable Master of Fuckups, Miles thought he’d be used to this by now. This moment, right here. The one that had him sitting on a bench, in a park, at midnight. Nearly begging to get mugged, not drunk but not entirely sober either, angry at the world. This was where he belonged, wasn’t it?
Except the nature of the beast was different. This time, this beast, was undeniably unforgivable. It would follow him for the rest of his life, no matter what happened next. If amends could ever be made, this would still be remembered.
So, so fucked.
Miles stared into the black pavement in front of him, unseeing and unaware of the few signs of life that did pass him by.
Where was she now?
With her friends and family, most likely. After a considerable amount of begging that still left a bad taste in his mouth, Miles had gotten to Sasha to at least tell him that Lorelai was faring about as well as to be expected. The doctors still had them all in the stasis that came after the use of The C Word. Bastards.
Well, all of them except Miles. Miles had turned and ran from the word, the power it held, and the portents it carried with it.
Miles was a coward. But at least he could admit that.
Rising from his seat, he studied himself. Rumpled clothes. A hand passing over a cheek confirmed stubble. Lack of sleep and a general disregard for food meant he had to look like shit. And if he didn’t smell like whiskey, he’d be deeply surprised.
Two weeks to properly wreck himself, and though he’d avoided mirrors at all costs, Miles still operated under the assumption he’d done a hell of a job. It seemed fair to commend himself for that much.
God, she had to hate him.
But maybe she would-No, of course she wouldn’t. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to think that? Unforgivable beast, stupid son of a bitch, abandoner, fucking worthless-
Alright. Let’s not, shall we?
Cancer. What the fuck.
A step in the right direction - maybe the right direction, what the fuck did he know really? - and Miles had to wonder. This park, it wasn’t far from her. He’d never strayed that far since he’d taken off from the hospital after he’d found out. Wherever he was, he was no more than a mile from somewhere she was regularly.
Creepy? Naturally. What else did he have left? At least it wasn’t intentional. Not exactly. Not really.
This time, he wasn’t that far from her apartment. The central point of every good stalker’s map.
So, now what? Torment was torment, wasn’t it? If he got her forgiveness or not, it made little difference. He’d hate himself for this no matter what. They’d all hate him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Junior’s spider senses started tingling as soon as he got within ten feet of Lorelai and he came packing heat.
And if not the brother, maybe the sister to burn him from the inside out. It wasn’t like Julia hadn’t been stumping for the opportunity since day one.
That wouldn’t be that big a deal. Not really.
So, now what?
Miles sighed. Each step that followed that was a reminder not only of what was to come, but how he would decapitate any writer pushing a script with this much emo bullshit. Who the fuck lived like this? And who the fuck would dare write this crap down? Really?
The building he’d been to nearly a hundred times before seemed bigger somehow. Miles found himself breathing deeply as he came inside, and had to stop in the lobby. This would never work.
When he slapped himself, the stray thought that flung itself into his awareness to accompany the sting that looking like he’d been beat up might earn him some sympathy was a little startling. To say the least.
And made the next one completely warranted.
Much better.
He took the elevator up. He was tired, and not all the self loathing in the world would make him in the mood to bother with stairs. Arriving at her door, he found himself having a hard time describing just how hard it was to not turn and run. She hated him. She should.
Shocked the hell out of him when he saw his fist come up and knock on the door anyway.
No. No. Shit. Fuck this. Nevermind, he couldn’t handle this, he wasn’t man enough or what the fuck ever, she’d never take him back, everyone hated him, why the hell would he ever-
Again. No writer worth a damn would touch this one. He barely had time to turn away before the door opened.
“Miles?”
It was angry, but he could have sworn it sounded a little hopeful. Miles turned around, watching Lorelai watch him, feeling every inch the scared animal ready to bolt. Dipshit the Bunny would’ve been proud.
Lorelai was glaring, but there was an unreadable element to her expression he was having a hard time figuring out. And so, not sure if he should, Miles didn’t say anything.
“You look like a hobo.”
So Lorelai did.
Miles stared. “No I don’t.” He heard himself say, even though he knew it was bullshit.
She rolled her eyes at him, and stepped to the side. “And you fucking smell.” She told him bluntly.
He didn’t move. And it didn’t take her long to get impatient. “You have three seconds before I shut the door.” She told him simply.
He still didn’t move. Three seconds later his hand snapped out to stop the door from closing. “Is anyone… I mean, is anyone here?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“I want to know if I’m getting fucked up tonight.” He snorted.
She lifted an eyebrow at that, and looked him over from head to toe in a move she could have only gotten from her mother. “You aren’t already?”
Point well taken. Miles went inside. And Lorelai closed the door.
After he’d showered and shaved, he’d had ten seconds of reprieve before the berating began.
It was good to be home.
As a certifiable Master of Fuckups, Miles thought he’d be used to this by now. This moment, right here. The one that had him sitting on a bench, in a park, at midnight. Nearly begging to get mugged, not drunk but not entirely sober either, angry at the world. This was where he belonged, wasn’t it?
Except the nature of the beast was different. This time, this beast, was undeniably unforgivable. It would follow him for the rest of his life, no matter what happened next. If amends could ever be made, this would still be remembered.
So, so fucked.
Miles stared into the black pavement in front of him, unseeing and unaware of the few signs of life that did pass him by.
Where was she now?
With her friends and family, most likely. After a considerable amount of begging that still left a bad taste in his mouth, Miles had gotten to Sasha to at least tell him that Lorelai was faring about as well as to be expected. The doctors still had them all in the stasis that came after the use of The C Word. Bastards.
Well, all of them except Miles. Miles had turned and ran from the word, the power it held, and the portents it carried with it.
Miles was a coward. But at least he could admit that.
Rising from his seat, he studied himself. Rumpled clothes. A hand passing over a cheek confirmed stubble. Lack of sleep and a general disregard for food meant he had to look like shit. And if he didn’t smell like whiskey, he’d be deeply surprised.
Two weeks to properly wreck himself, and though he’d avoided mirrors at all costs, Miles still operated under the assumption he’d done a hell of a job. It seemed fair to commend himself for that much.
God, she had to hate him.
But maybe she would-No, of course she wouldn’t. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to think that? Unforgivable beast, stupid son of a bitch, abandoner, fucking worthless-
Alright. Let’s not, shall we?
Cancer. What the fuck.
A step in the right direction - maybe the right direction, what the fuck did he know really? - and Miles had to wonder. This park, it wasn’t far from her. He’d never strayed that far since he’d taken off from the hospital after he’d found out. Wherever he was, he was no more than a mile from somewhere she was regularly.
Creepy? Naturally. What else did he have left? At least it wasn’t intentional. Not exactly. Not really.
This time, he wasn’t that far from her apartment. The central point of every good stalker’s map.
So, now what? Torment was torment, wasn’t it? If he got her forgiveness or not, it made little difference. He’d hate himself for this no matter what. They’d all hate him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Junior’s spider senses started tingling as soon as he got within ten feet of Lorelai and he came packing heat.
And if not the brother, maybe the sister to burn him from the inside out. It wasn’t like Julia hadn’t been stumping for the opportunity since day one.
That wouldn’t be that big a deal. Not really.
So, now what?
Miles sighed. Each step that followed that was a reminder not only of what was to come, but how he would decapitate any writer pushing a script with this much emo bullshit. Who the fuck lived like this? And who the fuck would dare write this crap down? Really?
The building he’d been to nearly a hundred times before seemed bigger somehow. Miles found himself breathing deeply as he came inside, and had to stop in the lobby. This would never work.
When he slapped himself, the stray thought that flung itself into his awareness to accompany the sting that looking like he’d been beat up might earn him some sympathy was a little startling. To say the least.
And made the next one completely warranted.
Much better.
He took the elevator up. He was tired, and not all the self loathing in the world would make him in the mood to bother with stairs. Arriving at her door, he found himself having a hard time describing just how hard it was to not turn and run. She hated him. She should.
Shocked the hell out of him when he saw his fist come up and knock on the door anyway.
No. No. Shit. Fuck this. Nevermind, he couldn’t handle this, he wasn’t man enough or what the fuck ever, she’d never take him back, everyone hated him, why the hell would he ever-
Again. No writer worth a damn would touch this one. He barely had time to turn away before the door opened.
“Miles?”
It was angry, but he could have sworn it sounded a little hopeful. Miles turned around, watching Lorelai watch him, feeling every inch the scared animal ready to bolt. Dipshit the Bunny would’ve been proud.
Lorelai was glaring, but there was an unreadable element to her expression he was having a hard time figuring out. And so, not sure if he should, Miles didn’t say anything.
“You look like a hobo.”
So Lorelai did.
Miles stared. “No I don’t.” He heard himself say, even though he knew it was bullshit.
She rolled her eyes at him, and stepped to the side. “And you fucking smell.” She told him bluntly.
He didn’t move. And it didn’t take her long to get impatient. “You have three seconds before I shut the door.” She told him simply.
He still didn’t move. Three seconds later his hand snapped out to stop the door from closing. “Is anyone… I mean, is anyone here?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“I want to know if I’m getting fucked up tonight.” He snorted.
She lifted an eyebrow at that, and looked him over from head to toe in a move she could have only gotten from her mother. “You aren’t already?”
Point well taken. Miles went inside. And Lorelai closed the door.
After he’d showered and shaved, he’d had ten seconds of reprieve before the berating began.
It was good to be home.