(no subject)
TITLE: Moscow
AUTHOR: Jennie
CHARACTERS: Brandon Bochenski of the Boston Bruins and Zach(y) Parise/Travis Zajac of the New Jersey Devils.
SUMMARY: 'Answers only make more questions.'
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: This is all fiction.
A/N: The two UND teammates were linemates at the IIHC in Moscow this past (2007) summer.
“Hi.” And with that simple word, you fall to pieces. It’s as if you’re standing at the foot of a mountain and everything you’ve ever felt towards him, everything that tore you apart and brought you back together hits you, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of confusion. Why did he knock on your door? Why is he here? What is he thinking right now? Does he want me? Does he want to try again? Soft lips curl into a smile and as he reaches out to touch your hand, you shy away. What is he trying to pull? Does he think you’ll give him a blow job and that will be the end of that? Where does he get off acting that way?
“Zachy, come on.” And his voice is husky and soft and pleading all at the same time, and you have to clench your hands into fists to maintain your composure. You take a step back and grasp the door, ready to slam it shut in his face. You’ve moved on; you can handle his sad eyes and slumping shoulders. You are your own person; you don’t need him to support you. But no matter how many times you tell yourself that, you know it’s not true.
“Zachy, please. I’ve changed. All I want to do is talk.” And you believe him. Maybe talking would be good. It ended so fast and he left without saying goodbye. Maybe if he said goodbye, you’d have the closure you needed to completely let go. You look down at your feet, naked toes sinking in to the plush carpet beneath them, and slowly swing the door open to let him walk by. You watch as he moves towards the window adjacent to your bed and presses his hand to the window.
“I thought it snowed year-round in Moscow until I actually got here and realized it doesn’t feel that different from Boston in the summer.” The door closes softly behind you as you move your hand to your head, trying to make sense out of your jumbled thoughts. Are we really going to talk? Can we work this out? If we work this out, what will happen once we go home? He spins around and you lock eyes and suddenly, you can only focus on the present.
“There’s a reason I didn’t say goodbye.” He’s mumbling, but you can understand him perfectly. “I knew you wanted me to stay at UND another year and I didn’t think I could face letting you down. Plus, I knew we’d be seeing each other again. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“It was a big deal.” Your voice is hoarse and dry and you’re as surprised at the sound of it as he is. “You left me,” you say, hoping to convey every jumbled emotion you’ve felt since he showed up at your door. “You left me and I was left with no explanation, no excuse, nothing. I would sit and think back to everything we said to each other, and for years, I thought it was my fault you left. I thought that you left because of what a horrible boyfriend I had been to you. I spent years trying to get over you. But you know what?”
You walk over to where he stands and lean into his ear, letting the smell of his aftershave wash over you. “The only way for me to forget you is to say goodbye.” You turn on your heels and throw the door open and as he walks away for the last time, you finally feel as though all of your questions have been answered. He never longed for the feeling of your fingertip trailing down the length of his back; he wanted the satisfaction of knowing that he still had complete control over you. You could have never worked it out because you had matured and seen through him, destroying the game he had played. And once you get home, his name won’t cross your mind because Travis will be there and Travis will treat you like he never did.
You glide to the window, feeling a sense of freedom like none you’d ever felt before. And as you look down on the city of Moscow with cobble stone streets and ancient architecture, you ask, ‘Why didn’t I say goodbye sooner?’
AUTHOR: Jennie
CHARACTERS: Brandon Bochenski of the Boston Bruins and Zach(y) Parise/Travis Zajac of the New Jersey Devils.
SUMMARY: 'Answers only make more questions.'
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: This is all fiction.
A/N: The two UND teammates were linemates at the IIHC in Moscow this past (2007) summer.
“Hi.” And with that simple word, you fall to pieces. It’s as if you’re standing at the foot of a mountain and everything you’ve ever felt towards him, everything that tore you apart and brought you back together hits you, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of confusion. Why did he knock on your door? Why is he here? What is he thinking right now? Does he want me? Does he want to try again? Soft lips curl into a smile and as he reaches out to touch your hand, you shy away. What is he trying to pull? Does he think you’ll give him a blow job and that will be the end of that? Where does he get off acting that way?
“Zachy, come on.” And his voice is husky and soft and pleading all at the same time, and you have to clench your hands into fists to maintain your composure. You take a step back and grasp the door, ready to slam it shut in his face. You’ve moved on; you can handle his sad eyes and slumping shoulders. You are your own person; you don’t need him to support you. But no matter how many times you tell yourself that, you know it’s not true.
“Zachy, please. I’ve changed. All I want to do is talk.” And you believe him. Maybe talking would be good. It ended so fast and he left without saying goodbye. Maybe if he said goodbye, you’d have the closure you needed to completely let go. You look down at your feet, naked toes sinking in to the plush carpet beneath them, and slowly swing the door open to let him walk by. You watch as he moves towards the window adjacent to your bed and presses his hand to the window.
“I thought it snowed year-round in Moscow until I actually got here and realized it doesn’t feel that different from Boston in the summer.” The door closes softly behind you as you move your hand to your head, trying to make sense out of your jumbled thoughts. Are we really going to talk? Can we work this out? If we work this out, what will happen once we go home? He spins around and you lock eyes and suddenly, you can only focus on the present.
“There’s a reason I didn’t say goodbye.” He’s mumbling, but you can understand him perfectly. “I knew you wanted me to stay at UND another year and I didn’t think I could face letting you down. Plus, I knew we’d be seeing each other again. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“It was a big deal.” Your voice is hoarse and dry and you’re as surprised at the sound of it as he is. “You left me,” you say, hoping to convey every jumbled emotion you’ve felt since he showed up at your door. “You left me and I was left with no explanation, no excuse, nothing. I would sit and think back to everything we said to each other, and for years, I thought it was my fault you left. I thought that you left because of what a horrible boyfriend I had been to you. I spent years trying to get over you. But you know what?”
You walk over to where he stands and lean into his ear, letting the smell of his aftershave wash over you. “The only way for me to forget you is to say goodbye.” You turn on your heels and throw the door open and as he walks away for the last time, you finally feel as though all of your questions have been answered. He never longed for the feeling of your fingertip trailing down the length of his back; he wanted the satisfaction of knowing that he still had complete control over you. You could have never worked it out because you had matured and seen through him, destroying the game he had played. And once you get home, his name won’t cross your mind because Travis will be there and Travis will treat you like he never did.
You glide to the window, feeling a sense of freedom like none you’d ever felt before. And as you look down on the city of Moscow with cobble stone streets and ancient architecture, you ask, ‘Why didn’t I say goodbye sooner?’