Real Person // Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock // Supposed to Be (My Love)
Title: Supposed to Be (My Love)
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #12; Want.
Word Count: 1,283
Rating: PG-13 for one swear.
Summary: The morning after.
Author's Notes: It's a sequel (maybe) to a story that I will write (maybe). And, yeah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
Keanu laid in the bed alone for a few minutes before he could drag himself up to go and look for her. He snatched his boxers off the floor as he walked, hopping into them and nearly falling over. She did not emerge at the sound of him clamoring to stay upright. Snapping the elastic waistband, Keanu left the bedroom and wandered in search of the kitchen. It must have been overcast outside because the apartment was fairly dark for morning.
The coffee maker piddled and sputtered. He snapped off the Post-It note attached to the pot and smirked.
I set the timer for 11:00AM. Hopefully you’ll wake up soon after and be greeted by fresh coffee. Check the answering machine.
The request was odd. It was her apartment, her stuff, who would call here leaving a message for him? He crumpled the note and left it on the counter, ransacking the cupboards in search of a mug and spoon. The milk smelled off and the date was two days earlier. Sugar was MIA. Keanu watched the coffee drip down with disdain at the thought of having to drink it black. He needed to pee.
He barely made it in time. Washing his hands he chuckled at the yellow paper stuck crookedly yet pointedly to the mirror.
I was serious. Check the answering machine.
He didn’t remember her taste in furniture being so uncomfortable last night. The couch squeaked when sat on and the cushions didn’t live up to their name. The other chairs in the room were stiff backed and belonged in an antique shop. Keanu finally settled on the floor before he realized he didn’t have the remote control. His leg was getting pinned under the coffee table anyway.
The coffee maker beeped with pride and Keanu wedged himself out from the table trap. Pouring himself a cup he decided to take her advice and listen to the machine. It occurred to him that perhaps she had left him a message of her whereabouts. He assumed that she was out picking up food for breakfast and the coffee was to tide him over, or that she had a meeting to run to and would be back soon after he awoke.
The answering machine red dot blinked four times, stilled, then blinked four times again. Keanu assumed this meant there were four messages and he wondered what he would have to skip through to get to Sandra.
“You have. Four. Unheard. Messages. First. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Five. Ten. AM.”
“Five in the morning?” Keanu questioned before taking a sip of coffee. “Fuck,” he cursed the scalding liquid.
“Keanu? It’s Sandra. Um. I’m standing outside the building, and I really wish now I had just woken you up because it would have been easier. Ah. But, it’s about last night. You know what? I won’t sugar coat it because you’re blunt with me and I should return the favor. I can’t do this. As in, us. Shit. I‘m coming up.” there was a sharp click.
“End of message. Second. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Five. Twenty-four. AM.”
“Hi. It’s me. Right. I just … um, I’m in the stairwell, and, well, I was thinking maybe I should have uh planned this better. Written it down maybe. But here I am. I don’t - I don’t - I don’t -” Click.
“End of message. Third. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Six. Eleven. AM.”
“Keanu, I do not in any way, shape, or form regret what happened last night. It was incredible. However, I do not want you to be under the impression that I have certain feelings for you. I love you but as my buddy.” the sentence was said quickly, as if she struggled so much with saying it that it was best to rush. “You got my back and I love you for it. But what happened last night is the first and last time. We don’t have that kind of relationship and we never will. Good-bye.” At the sound of her hanging up, Keanu gripped the mug in his hand and willed himself not to throw it across the room.
“End of message. Fourth. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Six. Fourteen. AM.”
Sandra‘s voice connected smoothly on the line as if she never hung up. “I’m out all day today but when I get home tonight, I don’t want you there. I’ll call you. I’m sorry.” there was no trace of remorse in the last two words and Keanu wondered if she read that off a paper too.
“End of messages.”
He set down the coffee a little too harshly and the cup tipped on its side, spilling over the edge of the table and soaking into the carpet. Keanu left it. His thoughts spinning, Keanu dressed and sat on the uncomfortable couch, waiting. He debated staying and confronting her or respecting her wishes and leaving. But why? Why should she decide for the both of them how to deal with last night?
He left soon after. There was no where to go. He paced the city as the sun moved across the sky.
Sandra hesitated to open her apartment door. Worst case scenario, he was still there and they got into a fight. Best case scenario, empty apartment. She stepped back from the door. It was quite a mess she put herself in. A regular pigsty of rejection, hurt feelings, confusion, and anger. But this wasn’t right - they were friends. Certainly Keanu could see that what they did last night, and subsequently repeating such an action, would ruin their close friendship.
She entered with confidence about her decision but nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when it was clear the apartment was empty. The bed was still unmade, the sheets tangled and comforter kicked off onto the floor. Sandra sighed and began to straighten the mess when the phone rang. She hesitated for a moment, then opted to let the machine pick it up. It was most likely her agent calling back about some auditions she’d gone to.
“Heeeyyy … it’s Saaannndra … wontcha wontcha leave me a message?” she paused to chuckle at her own bad singing to a tune she had made up spur of the moment. At the beep she went back to fluffing the pillows.
“I want you. No one else will do.” there was a pause; his breath light on the phone. Sandra sunk into the bed, clutching the pillow in her arms. The one he’d laid his head on last night, the one which smelled strongly of him. “I guess you’re not there.” half mumbled, then he hung up.
She stuck her nose into the soft pillow, inhaling him, hearing his message, feeling him beside her. Regret gone after a moment. She did the right thing. They were fated to be friends. Nothing more. After some time, Keanu would realize it. She nodded to herself as she continued to make the bed, uselessly attempting to block images of the night before as her hands smoothed the mattress cover, folded the comforter, and arranged the sheets.
Once made, she laid down on the bed for a much needed nap. She didn’t close her eyes but simply slowed her breathing. The images were stronger now, and she could still smell Keanu. She couldn’t tell if his scent was really there or if she was imagining it. Either way it was overwhelming her. She closed her eyes to the image of Keanu leaning over her, almost naked and reaching to bring her closer to him.
Sandra opened her eyes and stripped the bed. A noble action but ineffective. He would always be there now.
Fandom: Real Person
Characters: Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
Prompt: #12; Want.
Word Count: 1,283
Rating: PG-13 for one swear.
Summary: The morning after.
Author's Notes: It's a sequel (maybe) to a story that I will write (maybe). And, yeah, I don't know them. This is just how I think it should be.
Keanu laid in the bed alone for a few minutes before he could drag himself up to go and look for her. He snatched his boxers off the floor as he walked, hopping into them and nearly falling over. She did not emerge at the sound of him clamoring to stay upright. Snapping the elastic waistband, Keanu left the bedroom and wandered in search of the kitchen. It must have been overcast outside because the apartment was fairly dark for morning.
The coffee maker piddled and sputtered. He snapped off the Post-It note attached to the pot and smirked.
I set the timer for 11:00AM. Hopefully you’ll wake up soon after and be greeted by fresh coffee. Check the answering machine.
The request was odd. It was her apartment, her stuff, who would call here leaving a message for him? He crumpled the note and left it on the counter, ransacking the cupboards in search of a mug and spoon. The milk smelled off and the date was two days earlier. Sugar was MIA. Keanu watched the coffee drip down with disdain at the thought of having to drink it black. He needed to pee.
He barely made it in time. Washing his hands he chuckled at the yellow paper stuck crookedly yet pointedly to the mirror.
I was serious. Check the answering machine.
He didn’t remember her taste in furniture being so uncomfortable last night. The couch squeaked when sat on and the cushions didn’t live up to their name. The other chairs in the room were stiff backed and belonged in an antique shop. Keanu finally settled on the floor before he realized he didn’t have the remote control. His leg was getting pinned under the coffee table anyway.
The coffee maker beeped with pride and Keanu wedged himself out from the table trap. Pouring himself a cup he decided to take her advice and listen to the machine. It occurred to him that perhaps she had left him a message of her whereabouts. He assumed that she was out picking up food for breakfast and the coffee was to tide him over, or that she had a meeting to run to and would be back soon after he awoke.
The answering machine red dot blinked four times, stilled, then blinked four times again. Keanu assumed this meant there were four messages and he wondered what he would have to skip through to get to Sandra.
“You have. Four. Unheard. Messages. First. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Five. Ten. AM.”
“Five in the morning?” Keanu questioned before taking a sip of coffee. “Fuck,” he cursed the scalding liquid.
“Keanu? It’s Sandra. Um. I’m standing outside the building, and I really wish now I had just woken you up because it would have been easier. Ah. But, it’s about last night. You know what? I won’t sugar coat it because you’re blunt with me and I should return the favor. I can’t do this. As in, us. Shit. I‘m coming up.” there was a sharp click.
“End of message. Second. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Five. Twenty-four. AM.”
“Hi. It’s me. Right. I just … um, I’m in the stairwell, and, well, I was thinking maybe I should have uh planned this better. Written it down maybe. But here I am. I don’t - I don’t - I don’t -” Click.
“End of message. Third. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Six. Eleven. AM.”
“Keanu, I do not in any way, shape, or form regret what happened last night. It was incredible. However, I do not want you to be under the impression that I have certain feelings for you. I love you but as my buddy.” the sentence was said quickly, as if she struggled so much with saying it that it was best to rush. “You got my back and I love you for it. But what happened last night is the first and last time. We don’t have that kind of relationship and we never will. Good-bye.” At the sound of her hanging up, Keanu gripped the mug in his hand and willed himself not to throw it across the room.
“End of message. Fourth. Unheard. Message. Sent. Today at. Six. Fourteen. AM.”
Sandra‘s voice connected smoothly on the line as if she never hung up. “I’m out all day today but when I get home tonight, I don’t want you there. I’ll call you. I’m sorry.” there was no trace of remorse in the last two words and Keanu wondered if she read that off a paper too.
“End of messages.”
He set down the coffee a little too harshly and the cup tipped on its side, spilling over the edge of the table and soaking into the carpet. Keanu left it. His thoughts spinning, Keanu dressed and sat on the uncomfortable couch, waiting. He debated staying and confronting her or respecting her wishes and leaving. But why? Why should she decide for the both of them how to deal with last night?
He left soon after. There was no where to go. He paced the city as the sun moved across the sky.
Sandra hesitated to open her apartment door. Worst case scenario, he was still there and they got into a fight. Best case scenario, empty apartment. She stepped back from the door. It was quite a mess she put herself in. A regular pigsty of rejection, hurt feelings, confusion, and anger. But this wasn’t right - they were friends. Certainly Keanu could see that what they did last night, and subsequently repeating such an action, would ruin their close friendship.
She entered with confidence about her decision but nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when it was clear the apartment was empty. The bed was still unmade, the sheets tangled and comforter kicked off onto the floor. Sandra sighed and began to straighten the mess when the phone rang. She hesitated for a moment, then opted to let the machine pick it up. It was most likely her agent calling back about some auditions she’d gone to.
“Heeeyyy … it’s Saaannndra … wontcha wontcha leave me a message?” she paused to chuckle at her own bad singing to a tune she had made up spur of the moment. At the beep she went back to fluffing the pillows.
“I want you. No one else will do.” there was a pause; his breath light on the phone. Sandra sunk into the bed, clutching the pillow in her arms. The one he’d laid his head on last night, the one which smelled strongly of him. “I guess you’re not there.” half mumbled, then he hung up.
She stuck her nose into the soft pillow, inhaling him, hearing his message, feeling him beside her. Regret gone after a moment. She did the right thing. They were fated to be friends. Nothing more. After some time, Keanu would realize it. She nodded to herself as she continued to make the bed, uselessly attempting to block images of the night before as her hands smoothed the mattress cover, folded the comforter, and arranged the sheets.
Once made, she laid down on the bed for a much needed nap. She didn’t close her eyes but simply slowed her breathing. The images were stronger now, and she could still smell Keanu. She couldn’t tell if his scent was really there or if she was imagining it. Either way it was overwhelming her. She closed her eyes to the image of Keanu leaning over her, almost naked and reaching to bring her closer to him.
Sandra opened her eyes and stripped the bed. A noble action but ineffective. He would always be there now.