A Two Cigarette Walk.
I've started several fics over the months, but this is the first one I've actually managed to finish. Be gentle. :)
Title: A two cigarette walk.
Author:Sophie_Grace
Pairing: EM/DM
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them. It's all a big fat lie that I am in no way receiving monetary compensation for.
Feedback: Yes, please! Coments/constructive criticisms greatly appreciated.
Notes/Warnings: A little angsty, I suppose, but then...who doesn't like a little angst? Also, completely unbeta'd- I take full responsibility for any mistakes.
Elijah walked out of the diner with no real purpose or destination. He stopped on the sidewalk, lit a cigarette. He stared for a moment, the glowing embers mesmerizing him, before taking a hit and shoving his other hand deep into his pocket. It was cold- that kind of first November air that on good days makes you think of ice skating and hot chocolate. On other days, though, it’s enough to make your stomach turn, and your chest tighten. For no particular reason, really- maybe it’s the realization that summer is truly over, maybe it makes you think too much, maybe it’s just more lonely in the cold. Elijah began to walk. He often did this, at this time of year. Find a street, a back alley maybe, where no one would recognize him, and just walk- chain smoke until the combination of smoke and cold air made his lungs heavy. It’s fitting, he thinks, when his lungs begin to burn. It hurts, and he coughs, and he thinks finally, a physical symptom of this whole mess. Then he chastises himself for being so dramatic, and lights another cigarette. He wraps his scarf all the way around his neck, then opens his phone and dials voicemail for the sixth time that day.
“Elijah, hi…it’s Dom. Um...it’s November, and I’m sure it’s getting pretty cold there. I know you’re either back home at your mum’s, because…well, I know you don’t like to be alone in the cold, or you’re at that little diner near your apartment where they always gave us free coffee and they do karaoke on Thursday nights. Um…Elijah, look. I know you’re not going to return this call, but I know you’re going to listen to this message…and um. Well, I know that I’ve said I’m sorry…and I’ve said please call me back, and I’ve said I miss you, and I’ve said we need to talk, but…I just figured I’d say, since I’m not sure if you know…The thing is, Elijah, that I still…I still love you. And I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but I’m trying this new honesty thing and…well, I just wanted to tell you.”
Elijah cringed at this message. It wasn’t the “I love you” part that got him…this he knew, had always known. It may seem arrogant to some, but the thing was…that’s just the way things were. They loved each other. He had known it since the first time Dom had kissed him, his thin lips sliding perfectly into Elijah’s, soft and sweet, with his hand on the back of Elijah’s neck. He knew Dom loved him, even through the worst times, when Dom would come home smelling of alcohol and perfume and they would scream until Elijah cried and Dom would take him to bed. Then finally, despite knowing this, Elijah had packed his bags and left a note in a plain spiral bound notebook and signed it “Elijah Jordan Wood” because it seemed like a note like this should be simple and impersonal for some reason. Then Dom called every day, and Elijah ignored his calls, and the calls got less frequent, but Elijah still knew that they loved each other.
No, it wasn’t the “I love you” that got to Elijah. It was the beginning. “It’s Dom”. A simple phrase, with no malicious intent- but a phrase not made for lovers. People like he and Dom shouldn’t have to identify themselves to one another. It’s too impersonal, too distant, too…he didn’t know what, really. It was silly, but it bothered him. It made him second guess everything about them that he had always believed to be true, and he wondered if he had caused Dominic to second guess as well. It had never occurred to him that these things, the way Elijah felt about him, might not be a given for Dom. That he would not know this, instinctively, the way Elijah did.
Elijah sighed, and wrapped his jacket tightly around him. It's about a two cigarette walk from the diner to his apartment, and after wandering around for over half a pack, he had arrived at his building without realizing. He was angry because he didn’t want the walk to be over- didn’t want to be back in the comfort of his apartment with the warmth and the distractions. He deserved the chill of the air, and everything that comes with it.
He listened to the message for the seventh time.
Then he leaned up against the cold brick and made the first call that he's made in weeks that wasn't to voicemail. It rang once, twice…and he almost hung up.
“Hello?” He sounded groggy, as if just out of sleep.
“Dominic, hi, it’s…” He took a deep breath, “...it’s me.”
Title: A two cigarette walk.
Author:Sophie_Grace
Pairing: EM/DM
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them. It's all a big fat lie that I am in no way receiving monetary compensation for.
Feedback: Yes, please! Coments/constructive criticisms greatly appreciated.
Notes/Warnings: A little angsty, I suppose, but then...who doesn't like a little angst? Also, completely unbeta'd- I take full responsibility for any mistakes.
Elijah walked out of the diner with no real purpose or destination. He stopped on the sidewalk, lit a cigarette. He stared for a moment, the glowing embers mesmerizing him, before taking a hit and shoving his other hand deep into his pocket. It was cold- that kind of first November air that on good days makes you think of ice skating and hot chocolate. On other days, though, it’s enough to make your stomach turn, and your chest tighten. For no particular reason, really- maybe it’s the realization that summer is truly over, maybe it makes you think too much, maybe it’s just more lonely in the cold. Elijah began to walk. He often did this, at this time of year. Find a street, a back alley maybe, where no one would recognize him, and just walk- chain smoke until the combination of smoke and cold air made his lungs heavy. It’s fitting, he thinks, when his lungs begin to burn. It hurts, and he coughs, and he thinks finally, a physical symptom of this whole mess. Then he chastises himself for being so dramatic, and lights another cigarette. He wraps his scarf all the way around his neck, then opens his phone and dials voicemail for the sixth time that day.
“Elijah, hi…it’s Dom. Um...it’s November, and I’m sure it’s getting pretty cold there. I know you’re either back home at your mum’s, because…well, I know you don’t like to be alone in the cold, or you’re at that little diner near your apartment where they always gave us free coffee and they do karaoke on Thursday nights. Um…Elijah, look. I know you’re not going to return this call, but I know you’re going to listen to this message…and um. Well, I know that I’ve said I’m sorry…and I’ve said please call me back, and I’ve said I miss you, and I’ve said we need to talk, but…I just figured I’d say, since I’m not sure if you know…The thing is, Elijah, that I still…I still love you. And I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but I’m trying this new honesty thing and…well, I just wanted to tell you.”
Elijah cringed at this message. It wasn’t the “I love you” part that got him…this he knew, had always known. It may seem arrogant to some, but the thing was…that’s just the way things were. They loved each other. He had known it since the first time Dom had kissed him, his thin lips sliding perfectly into Elijah’s, soft and sweet, with his hand on the back of Elijah’s neck. He knew Dom loved him, even through the worst times, when Dom would come home smelling of alcohol and perfume and they would scream until Elijah cried and Dom would take him to bed. Then finally, despite knowing this, Elijah had packed his bags and left a note in a plain spiral bound notebook and signed it “Elijah Jordan Wood” because it seemed like a note like this should be simple and impersonal for some reason. Then Dom called every day, and Elijah ignored his calls, and the calls got less frequent, but Elijah still knew that they loved each other.
No, it wasn’t the “I love you” that got to Elijah. It was the beginning. “It’s Dom”. A simple phrase, with no malicious intent- but a phrase not made for lovers. People like he and Dom shouldn’t have to identify themselves to one another. It’s too impersonal, too distant, too…he didn’t know what, really. It was silly, but it bothered him. It made him second guess everything about them that he had always believed to be true, and he wondered if he had caused Dominic to second guess as well. It had never occurred to him that these things, the way Elijah felt about him, might not be a given for Dom. That he would not know this, instinctively, the way Elijah did.
Elijah sighed, and wrapped his jacket tightly around him. It's about a two cigarette walk from the diner to his apartment, and after wandering around for over half a pack, he had arrived at his building without realizing. He was angry because he didn’t want the walk to be over- didn’t want to be back in the comfort of his apartment with the warmth and the distractions. He deserved the chill of the air, and everything that comes with it.
He listened to the message for the seventh time.
Then he leaned up against the cold brick and made the first call that he's made in weeks that wasn't to voicemail. It rang once, twice…and he almost hung up.
“Hello?” He sounded groggy, as if just out of sleep.
“Dominic, hi, it’s…” He took a deep breath, “...it’s me.”