Fic: "You Can't Sing With a Broken Heart" 2/? (Lea/Dianna, RPF)
Title: “You Can’t Sing With a Broken Heart”
Author: Flynn
Pairing: Lea/Dianna (RPF)
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: How can they be mine when they belong to each other?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Approx. 1140
Notes: How much angst can one relationship take?
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lea’s world is spinning out.
Part I
“Can you please get off the phone?” It’s the third time I’ve asked in the past thirty minutes. And for the final time Dianna’s giving me the universal symbol for “just one sec”. I’m close to giving her my own universal hand gesture to express how much frustration I’m feeling.
I watch Dianna retreat into the bedroom, the echo of the laugh that I used to adore floating down the hall. She’s been on the phone with him planning for over an hour. We still have lines to run and I have to be in the studio in two hours to lay down a vocal track for the next album. My patience is shot and I swear to God I want to smash her fucking phone into a thousand pieces.
I retrace her steps down the hall and pull up short of the doorway. Her voice has slipped into flirt mode and I hear her say, “You’re adorable.” It’s like a knife in the gut. It’s what I say to her I can’t find the right words to say just how much she means to me. When “I love you” has been repeated ad nauseam and lost the power to affect her. And now she’s saying it to him. I decide then and there she’ll never those words from me again. It was something that was ours, hers and mine alone. I’d never said it to another lover. But now it’s touched him and it’s tainted.
Tired of waiting, tired of hurting and suddenly remembering that I have control over my own life, I step into my bedroom and clear my throat.
She’s annoyed at the interruption. Dianna presses the phone against her leg and says in a tight voice, “I need a few more minutes.”
“Take your time. I’m going ahead to the studio.” I cross to her and press a quick kiss to her cheek and am out the door before she can respond. Before I can feel hurt that she didn’t whisper “I love you” as my lips brushed her skin.
I’m running away. I can admit that to myself. But I had to get out of there. I felt caged and anxious and pissed and hurt all rolled into one big ball of disgusting emotion. It was the kind of situation that created ticking time bombs in my mind; that made me wonder if she wasn’t deliberately pushing me. Sometimes I thought she was testing the strength of our relationship. Other times, it felt like she was trying to find my breaking point.
I turn off my phone because the last week has been hell. I’ll be annoyed now if Dianna tries to reach me and beyond hurt if she doesn’t reach out. I can’t even seek refuge in my music because it is all wrapped up in her. In real time, the drive to the studio takes forever, but I find my mind racing with unwanted thoughts and seem to be there in no time, with absolutely no recollection of driving there. I greet the security guard and make my way into the control booth to just in time to hear Cory finish his solo contribution to the album.
Between the combination of his own hard work and Ryan finally cluing in that his voice was best suited to 80’s rock songs, Cory is finally at ease in the studio and he sounds really good.
He catches sight of me and comes into the control booth. He checks with our producer who gives him the proverbial thumbs up before turning to me to signal that he needs a smoke break before we start.
“You sounded really good in there. The girls will be flipping out all over again when they hear this song.” I’m happy for him, but I can tell by the way he cocks his head and studies me that my enthusiasm isn’t showing on my face or my body language.
“You and Dianna still having trouble?”
I try to muster up some positive feeling and fail miserably. I nod. Cory is a good guy and pulls me into a much needed hug. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to talk to her?”
“I can’t believe all of our drama hasn’t made you want to go running back to Canada.” He chuckles for a moment then falls silent waiting for my response. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it might hurt more than help.”
“Do you want me to talk to Mark and tell him to step back?”
He lets me go when I drop my arms to my sides. It’s so tempting to let him help, to see if he can get Mark to back off. But I know Salling. It’d just make him more determined. And Dianna would start on me about trust issues again.
This would be so much easier if it were an episode of the show. Ryan would highlight all the drama in one episode before chasing after the next shiny object that caught his eye. One episode wrapped up in a neat tidy bow.
“Lea?”
I glance up and see my friend looking at me with concern. I pat his arm before reassuring him, “I’m okay.”
The skepticism registers on his face but he nods at me anyway. One lie acknowledging another. “Do you care if I hang out while you record?”
Even if it isn’t the smiling face I had hoped to see in the control booth, it’s so much better than no one at all. “I’d like that.”
I slip into the recording booth and am grateful to see sheet music there. Normally, I don’t need it. By the time I’m laying down the vocal, it’s etched into my brain. But I’m feeling so discombobulated that I can’t remember the name of the song, much less the words.
As the producer returns from his smoke break, I turn my phone on and check it for messages from Dianna. Nada. Zip. Zero. I feel tears starting and will them to stop. Crying at this point will destroy my voice. I glance down at the sheet music. It’s a song of longing and unrequited love. It is the perfect channel for all of the emotion I have no other outlet for.
I look to my producer who starts the music playback and I wait for my cue.
*********************************************************
Home is quiet and dark by the time I’ve returned from the studio. I turn lights on as I walk through the place, letting my eyes cut to the countertops in the kitchen, the end tables in the living room, and the dresser in the bedroom, my disappointment growing the further I go into my home. It isn’t until I’ve walked into the bathroom that I find a post-it note stuck to mirror. There are three little words that bring tears to my eyes. I’m with Mark.
Author: Flynn
Pairing: Lea/Dianna (RPF)
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: How can they be mine when they belong to each other?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Approx. 1140
Notes: How much angst can one relationship take?
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lea’s world is spinning out.
Part I
“Can you please get off the phone?” It’s the third time I’ve asked in the past thirty minutes. And for the final time Dianna’s giving me the universal symbol for “just one sec”. I’m close to giving her my own universal hand gesture to express how much frustration I’m feeling.
I watch Dianna retreat into the bedroom, the echo of the laugh that I used to adore floating down the hall. She’s been on the phone with him planning for over an hour. We still have lines to run and I have to be in the studio in two hours to lay down a vocal track for the next album. My patience is shot and I swear to God I want to smash her fucking phone into a thousand pieces.
I retrace her steps down the hall and pull up short of the doorway. Her voice has slipped into flirt mode and I hear her say, “You’re adorable.” It’s like a knife in the gut. It’s what I say to her I can’t find the right words to say just how much she means to me. When “I love you” has been repeated ad nauseam and lost the power to affect her. And now she’s saying it to him. I decide then and there she’ll never those words from me again. It was something that was ours, hers and mine alone. I’d never said it to another lover. But now it’s touched him and it’s tainted.
Tired of waiting, tired of hurting and suddenly remembering that I have control over my own life, I step into my bedroom and clear my throat.
She’s annoyed at the interruption. Dianna presses the phone against her leg and says in a tight voice, “I need a few more minutes.”
“Take your time. I’m going ahead to the studio.” I cross to her and press a quick kiss to her cheek and am out the door before she can respond. Before I can feel hurt that she didn’t whisper “I love you” as my lips brushed her skin.
I’m running away. I can admit that to myself. But I had to get out of there. I felt caged and anxious and pissed and hurt all rolled into one big ball of disgusting emotion. It was the kind of situation that created ticking time bombs in my mind; that made me wonder if she wasn’t deliberately pushing me. Sometimes I thought she was testing the strength of our relationship. Other times, it felt like she was trying to find my breaking point.
I turn off my phone because the last week has been hell. I’ll be annoyed now if Dianna tries to reach me and beyond hurt if she doesn’t reach out. I can’t even seek refuge in my music because it is all wrapped up in her. In real time, the drive to the studio takes forever, but I find my mind racing with unwanted thoughts and seem to be there in no time, with absolutely no recollection of driving there. I greet the security guard and make my way into the control booth to just in time to hear Cory finish his solo contribution to the album.
Between the combination of his own hard work and Ryan finally cluing in that his voice was best suited to 80’s rock songs, Cory is finally at ease in the studio and he sounds really good.
He catches sight of me and comes into the control booth. He checks with our producer who gives him the proverbial thumbs up before turning to me to signal that he needs a smoke break before we start.
“You sounded really good in there. The girls will be flipping out all over again when they hear this song.” I’m happy for him, but I can tell by the way he cocks his head and studies me that my enthusiasm isn’t showing on my face or my body language.
“You and Dianna still having trouble?”
I try to muster up some positive feeling and fail miserably. I nod. Cory is a good guy and pulls me into a much needed hug. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to talk to her?”
“I can’t believe all of our drama hasn’t made you want to go running back to Canada.” He chuckles for a moment then falls silent waiting for my response. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it might hurt more than help.”
“Do you want me to talk to Mark and tell him to step back?”
He lets me go when I drop my arms to my sides. It’s so tempting to let him help, to see if he can get Mark to back off. But I know Salling. It’d just make him more determined. And Dianna would start on me about trust issues again.
This would be so much easier if it were an episode of the show. Ryan would highlight all the drama in one episode before chasing after the next shiny object that caught his eye. One episode wrapped up in a neat tidy bow.
“Lea?”
I glance up and see my friend looking at me with concern. I pat his arm before reassuring him, “I’m okay.”
The skepticism registers on his face but he nods at me anyway. One lie acknowledging another. “Do you care if I hang out while you record?”
Even if it isn’t the smiling face I had hoped to see in the control booth, it’s so much better than no one at all. “I’d like that.”
I slip into the recording booth and am grateful to see sheet music there. Normally, I don’t need it. By the time I’m laying down the vocal, it’s etched into my brain. But I’m feeling so discombobulated that I can’t remember the name of the song, much less the words.
As the producer returns from his smoke break, I turn my phone on and check it for messages from Dianna. Nada. Zip. Zero. I feel tears starting and will them to stop. Crying at this point will destroy my voice. I glance down at the sheet music. It’s a song of longing and unrequited love. It is the perfect channel for all of the emotion I have no other outlet for.
I look to my producer who starts the music playback and I wait for my cue.
*********************************************************
Home is quiet and dark by the time I’ve returned from the studio. I turn lights on as I walk through the place, letting my eyes cut to the countertops in the kitchen, the end tables in the living room, and the dresser in the bedroom, my disappointment growing the further I go into my home. It isn’t until I’ve walked into the bathroom that I find a post-it note stuck to mirror. There are three little words that bring tears to my eyes. I’m with Mark.