Fic: Emptiness Fills My Heart; justprompts
Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment. -Barry LePatner
Despite how she feels, Remy goes home to Spencer the day she's released. She can try, right? What happened in the hospital room felt real, real enough, even though it all went away in that one, horrible moment that saved Spencer's life.
"Hey."
Remy had given her a key before she left. Said to wait for her and she'd be back as soon as she could. She'd even bought flowers on her way, despite the fact that she'd been hoping Spencer wouldn't really show up. Remy is going through the motions. She drops her keys on the table, and clutches the flowers in her sweaty hand. "Hey."
Spencer smiles at her. There's no pity in her eyes, which is nice. Remy can't take the pity she keeps seeing as more and more people find out. But there's something else instead, a kind of steady sadness, and it weighs on Remy too heavily. She can't do this. "I can't do this."
"What?"
"This." Remy waits as Spencer stands, walks over to her, takes the flowers. Kisses her. Remy still waits. She's waiting for something, and she doesn't know what it is, but it's not coming.
Spencer licks her lips and nods at Remy. Now there's pity in her eyes. And anger. Remy knows that she would probably understand why, if she thought about it. She doesn't want to think about it. "It's because I'm not going to die, isn't it? Because I can't know what you're going through anymore. Because you're definitely going to 'win' the race."
She leans in and brushes her lips against Remy's neck. "Maybe I'm not on the track anymore, but I still know what it's like. Even if it was only for a day, I knew." Her hands are on Remy's waist, the flowers pressed part way between them. Spencer nips at her neck, and Remy feels the frustration in the gesture.
The anger is something she likes. It's something she can handle. Like being fired made her better at her job, because suddenly the only thing she had to hang onto wasn't there anymore. Spencer's anger is different than pity and sadness, and it makes Remy want to kiss her back. Hard. She slides her fingers up under Spencer's shirt, running across her warm, soft skin, up until she can feel the edges of the bandages protecting her stitches.
"Wait." Spencer pulls back and stares at Remy. "This isn't real, is it? Nothing's changed. You don't really want me."
Remy shrugs. "Right now I want you. I can't be your girlfriend. I can't be anyone's girlfriend. Look at me. I'm dying, I'm worn down, I'm - "
"Killing yourself to feel alive."
"Yeah."
"So everything while I was in the hospital was-"
"Real."
"And now."
"I don't know."
"I'm not asking you to marry me, I was just hoping you'd call me again. I don't even care how many women you've brought home while I was in the hospital, recovering." Remy's still sober enough that her cheeks flush with embarrassment at Spencer's words. "And then you wanted me to come here, brought me flowers... I thought."
Spencer laughs, once, but it's not a happy sound. "I don't know what I thought."
Remy looks into her eyes and finds that the anger is gone. Her lust fades and she steps back. Spencer tosses the flowers on the counter. "I want to help you live without trying to kill yourself. If you ever get there, you know my number."
She kisses Remy's cheek softly, then leaves.
Remy stares at the door for a minute, then another, waiting until enough time has passed that she can walk out without bumping into Spencer. She goes to the bar and finds a pretty blonde, whose eyes are slightly glassy and hold nothing in them but need and want. Remy takes her home, ignores the crushed flowers on the counter as she walks in, and leads her straight to the bed.
When she wakes up in the morning her head is throbbing and the blonde is gone.
Remy doesn't mind at all. She makes her coffee, throwing the crushed, dying flowers into the trash can next to the counter.
She tries to forget Spencer's number.
It almost works.
Despite how she feels, Remy goes home to Spencer the day she's released. She can try, right? What happened in the hospital room felt real, real enough, even though it all went away in that one, horrible moment that saved Spencer's life.
"Hey."
Remy had given her a key before she left. Said to wait for her and she'd be back as soon as she could. She'd even bought flowers on her way, despite the fact that she'd been hoping Spencer wouldn't really show up. Remy is going through the motions. She drops her keys on the table, and clutches the flowers in her sweaty hand. "Hey."
Spencer smiles at her. There's no pity in her eyes, which is nice. Remy can't take the pity she keeps seeing as more and more people find out. But there's something else instead, a kind of steady sadness, and it weighs on Remy too heavily. She can't do this. "I can't do this."
"What?"
"This." Remy waits as Spencer stands, walks over to her, takes the flowers. Kisses her. Remy still waits. She's waiting for something, and she doesn't know what it is, but it's not coming.
Spencer licks her lips and nods at Remy. Now there's pity in her eyes. And anger. Remy knows that she would probably understand why, if she thought about it. She doesn't want to think about it. "It's because I'm not going to die, isn't it? Because I can't know what you're going through anymore. Because you're definitely going to 'win' the race."
She leans in and brushes her lips against Remy's neck. "Maybe I'm not on the track anymore, but I still know what it's like. Even if it was only for a day, I knew." Her hands are on Remy's waist, the flowers pressed part way between them. Spencer nips at her neck, and Remy feels the frustration in the gesture.
The anger is something she likes. It's something she can handle. Like being fired made her better at her job, because suddenly the only thing she had to hang onto wasn't there anymore. Spencer's anger is different than pity and sadness, and it makes Remy want to kiss her back. Hard. She slides her fingers up under Spencer's shirt, running across her warm, soft skin, up until she can feel the edges of the bandages protecting her stitches.
"Wait." Spencer pulls back and stares at Remy. "This isn't real, is it? Nothing's changed. You don't really want me."
Remy shrugs. "Right now I want you. I can't be your girlfriend. I can't be anyone's girlfriend. Look at me. I'm dying, I'm worn down, I'm - "
"Killing yourself to feel alive."
"Yeah."
"So everything while I was in the hospital was-"
"Real."
"And now."
"I don't know."
"I'm not asking you to marry me, I was just hoping you'd call me again. I don't even care how many women you've brought home while I was in the hospital, recovering." Remy's still sober enough that her cheeks flush with embarrassment at Spencer's words. "And then you wanted me to come here, brought me flowers... I thought."
Spencer laughs, once, but it's not a happy sound. "I don't know what I thought."
Remy looks into her eyes and finds that the anger is gone. Her lust fades and she steps back. Spencer tosses the flowers on the counter. "I want to help you live without trying to kill yourself. If you ever get there, you know my number."
She kisses Remy's cheek softly, then leaves.
Remy stares at the door for a minute, then another, waiting until enough time has passed that she can walk out without bumping into Spencer. She goes to the bar and finds a pretty blonde, whose eyes are slightly glassy and hold nothing in them but need and want. Remy takes her home, ignores the crushed flowers on the counter as she walks in, and leads her straight to the bed.
When she wakes up in the morning her head is throbbing and the blonde is gone.
Remy doesn't mind at all. She makes her coffee, throwing the crushed, dying flowers into the trash can next to the counter.
She tries to forget Spencer's number.
It almost works.