Should've Shown Up By Now
Title: Should’ve Shown up by Now
Pairing: Victoria/William, Victoria/Gabe, William/ Christine
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes and drinking.
Author: Me! (xmexandxyoux) with help from shattered_ink.
Disclaimer: I do not believe this ever happened. I do not own anyone.
Credit: Welllll, firstly, MAH MUSEEEEEEEE.
:DDD
An infinite amount of lovies and rainbows to you! <3
Also, title belongs to The Academy Is... and the lyrics in the beginning belong to 3oh!3.
And the phrase "Pretty Down to Your Bones" belongs to The Hushies.
Summary: Too much to drink - she'd had too much to drink, and now she felt it in the way she kissed, sloppy and frantic, like she was one-hundred-and-ten years old and might never kiss anyone again.
"Black dress. With the tights underneath. I got the breath of a last cigarette on my teeth. And she’s an actress, but she ain’t got no need; she’s got money from her parents in a trust fund back east. . . " 30h!3's "Don’t Trust Me" blared through the two-flat as the room filled with people talking-drinking-dancing-mingling-kissing. Victoria searched the room for the face she’d been looking for- not the one she should have wanted to find, but the one she’d invited nonetheless. Her face radiated rhapsody that lit up the room, aside from the strategically placed lamps.
She could see him through the people, biting a lip self-consciously as he fiddled with the collar of his button-down. The phrase pretty down to your bones popped into her head as she neared him, studying his androgynous features with astonishment. That’s good, I should write that down, she noted. Staring at him, one would wonder how he could possibly be male. Male was buff, male was muscular, male was Gabe. Speaking of Gabe, where was he? Victoria sighed as she remembered he had cancelled; as if on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She hit ignore to her MIA boyfriend’s text and went to greet William.
"Hey!" She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek, as she did everyone, but William seemed stiff to her touch. Maybe he wasn’t the touchy type? "I’m so glad you came!" He smiled crookedly a bit, as if to say it was no biggie.
"Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. It’s about time I attended one of Victoria’s Patented World-Famous Parties." Victoria could feel herself blushing a little and took a sip of her Diet Coke to hide it. It was true, sometimes her parties did get a little loud- William had had to show up on her doorstep on more than one occasion to ask if she could kindly turn down the music, that he and Christine were trying to sleep- but she didn’t know they were such a hot topic. Victoria pretended to see an old acquaintance over William’s shoulder and politely excused herself. Guys like William could only be handled in small quantities.
Flipping open her phone, her stomach lurched as she read the message.
From: Gabanti
V, it’s over.
Victoria swiped at the tears forming in her eyes, filled with sadness, rejection, and not to mention anger. She couldn’t let them all see her fall apart, so she had no choice (besides setting off the sprinklers- she had Gucci shoes that would not and could not be replaced by water damage, so that was out) but to bellow, "Everybody out!" Everyone scrambled out of the apartment, all except one.
- - -
Victoria slumped on her plush couch and it suddenly all made sense. How many people she knew and how many so-called friends she had and how much she had to say, but nothing she could share with any of them besides the mindless, "She did WHAT?" and "You’ve got to be kidding." The revelation was like a glass of ice cold water. However, it exacerbated her emotions and she let the tears fall as the crushing thoughts in her head whirled round.
"Victoria?" She glanced up, his face hovered close to hers, the warm and familiar smell of alcohol clinging to his skin and hair and clothes.
"What?" She said when she remembered to breathe. That word alone came out choked and strangled.
"You're crying," William said.
"Gee. I hadn't noticed." He smiled - the kind of smile Victoria hated, hesitant and awry, full of compassion and sympathy with not an ounce of understanding. He pushed some of the stained tissues surrounding her aside, easing himself onto the couch, a good six inches away. She wondered if he was always this tense - or if her supposedly waterproof mascara had run down her face and left her looking deformed. She would bet on the latter.
William shifted on the couch and smiled that nervous smile again.
"I enjoyed the party," he offered, and she rolled her shining eyes. "No, really. It was fun," he said, and she felt the tears build up all over again. "Don't cry," he said. "Don't cry," and he cupped her face, trying to look into her eyes. But she was flinching and shaking her head and looking everywhere, anywhere but at him. His hands under her chin felt wrong - too gentle. They weren't Gabe's hands and this wasn't Gabe and the lips pushing against hers were so soft, so not-Gabe.
She cried even harder and kissed back desperately, not sure whether she meant to push him away or lead him on, but somehow managing to do both. The smooth insides of his wrists and palms ran underneath her shirt, pressed against her skin, and they both froze, like they'd been playing a game of musical chairs. "Is th-this - are you - um," and he wasn't even making sense, stuttering like a scratched CD, a broken record. "Victoria?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm - I'm sorry." And there went those eyes, so huge and sad and so goddamn sympathetic. Those eyes made her blood rush and her head spin and she felt the alcohol creeping up her throat. She lunged for his mouth again, maybe to shut him up, maybe to shut herself up, before she said something stupid and sentimental and unlike her. Too much to drink - she'd had too much to drink, and now she felt it in the way she kissed, sloppy and frantic, like she was one-hundred-and-ten years old and might never kiss anyone again.
"Victoria, please," he was saying, or something to that effect. Something along the lines of, "I can't, I'm so sorry, it's not you, I really shouldn't." She didn't really hear him until he was pushing her away.
"Whatever," she sniffed. She said, "Just forget it," and she pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them, letting the tears burn through her tights
.
"Victoria," she heard, and then she felt those too-soft hands on her back, in her hair, heard his too-soft voice saying, "I'm sorry," again and again.
"Whatever," she said, pulling a pillow to her face. She counted Mississippis until she lost track, trailed off; somewhere between one and eight hundred Mississippi, William left. And somewhere after that, her headache swallowed her thoughts, left her falling headfirst into a dreamless sleep.
Victoria,
The events of the past few hours have been quite confusing, for both you and I. Let me begin by apologizing. I was under the influence of alcohol and I did not know what I was doing. You were not repulsive or offensive in any way. In fact, you did nothing wrong. Your judgement was just as cloudy as mine.
I know you were going through a difficult time and I apologize for my actions and/or rejection. I would never be able to forgive myself if I was to hurt Christine in any way. I hope we can still be friends, or at least exchange pleasantries on the stairwell every now and then. I would like to know the Real Victoria, once you find her. I know you will.
Best wishes,
William