A Chance Encounter
Title: A Chance Encounter
Rating: NC-17, not at the beginning, but it gets there
Pairing: Ville and Meg (You don't know her yet, but read on and you will)
Genre: Drama/Romance
Disclaimer: I own Meg, Alice, Christina, and Sandi as they are all of my own creation. As for everyone else, don't know and don't own. And I'm willing to bet this never really happened.
Chapter 1-7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30
With a tired sigh my legs curled in tight against my chest as tired eyes tried in vain to focus on the flickering light of the television. Sinking into this couch, that’s where I’ve been since my hasty retreat for his cold eyes and harsh grip; I had done nothing with the passing hours but curl deeper into myself and try to avoid thinking about the events of earlier this evening. With the silent push of a button I was pulled into the crisp black night that had descended over the city and with a soft thud the remote landed on the floor.
“I shouldn’t even be here” I mumbled as if reprimanding myself as I rolled onto my back and allowed my open hands to cover my tired face. The tension was quietly building and in the silence of his living room I realized there was no way to stop that awful feeling churning in my gut. In fact the longer I lay there the worse the feeling grew and as I let my eyes slip closed I could see him in my mind resting easy, that lithe pale frame huddled under the familiar warmth of safe blankets.
‘Fucking spoilt rockstar’ a cliché I never thought would apply to him was now running rampant through my exhausted head. A shudder ran through me as I contemplated my current situation, ‘is this what I’ve become?’ I silently scolded myself, ‘a mere toy, a rag doll, for some spoiled musician?’ Letting my hands slip off my face, I released the desperate breath I had apparently been holding and tried with no success to silence all the bitter memories which seemed to be playing out before my eyes. It was like watching a movie of our worst moments: the night I had gotten drunk, visiting only to find him with her, the first few nights in New York and now this. My heart beat accelerating as my voice came from me in a calm and completely emotionless tone which seems to echo off the walls, “I can’t do this.”
“And you shouldn’t have to.” his voice hit my sense as a burst of ice water to warm skin and the silence that followed was even more uncomfortable. Those sobering words in that thick voice had come from somewhere behind me, perhaps the hallway and while my first thought was to sit up and look to him, my pride didn’t allow it. A little voice in the back of my head told me to be the bigger person and start the conversation that we obviously needed to have, but the bigger the silence between us grew the more justified I felt in forcing him to take responsibility for fixing this: for fixing us. Just as I had begun to think he was gone, my ears caught the dull sound of bare feet scuffing across the hardwood floor. My ears followed him from behind my makeshift bed to the far side of the dark coffee table which sat before me and as those feet came to a stop I let my hand casually come up to rest on the knot that was my stomach. In the darkness my eyes followed what they could of his dark frame as he dropped to the floor. My eyes slipped closed, waiting for the living shadow on the other side of the carved table to crack this silence with his words, but still we said nothing. After sometime, perhaps it was a minute or five or twenty, my eyes fell open peering across the table, trying to make out anything I could of his slight frame, but he had successfully sank into the darkness of the room. A quiet rustling filled the room, the sound of cardboard slipping on cardboard and the crinkling of foil followed almost immediately by the sharp sound of the metal wheel turning on a cheap plastic lighter. Three turns and the small flame sprang to life; I watched intently as those pink lips came into the light and pursed around the crisp white filter as the tip of the cigarette turned a glowing amber and just like that the flame was gone. Keeping my eyes focused on where I knew he was, I watched as the cherry lit up slightly every time that burning vice reached his lips and he drew a deep breath.
“I’m fucked up. . .”
“I know.” my interruption came without warning and only stopped that raspy voice for a moment.
“No,” an uneasiness covering his voice, “I mean it Meg, you don’t deserve this. You should have something better, some one stable.”
“So is that it?” I spat at him as I felt all the muscles in my body tense. “Is this how you want it to end? You want to end this because of some revelation that you’re fucked up?”
“No that’s not it,” his words soft and measured, “that’s not it at all.” A deep breath was drawn by that living shadow, “I don’t want to end this, but. . there’s just some things. . .” I bit my lip as I tried to decide if he was looking for the right words or trying to steady that voice which was starting to falter, “things about me. . .my past. . .”
“Ville,” even in the dark I know the tone of my voice brought his eyes up to where he suspected mine were, “you need to start talking. Stop hiding.” Slipping my legs over the side of the couch I brought my body to an upright position and reached out, groping the table until I the found the white box and the plastic lighter. Lighting one of his cigarettes I waited for him to decide; was what we had worth it to him? Worth opening up? Being vulnerable?
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
“You think I mean to?” His voice slightly raised sending an icy chill through my bones as I took a warm drag. He knew what the answer would be, so instead of responding I sat there quietly, letting the gray smoke silently roll over my lips as I waited patiently for the conversation to continue. Leaning over slightly, stretching my arm out, letting the fragile ash tip off the end of that slowly smoldering stick. Just as my thumb flicked the filter the rough touch of calloused fingers trailed along the back of my hand. “I’m so afraid of fucking this up, I. . .”
“You spend too much time. . .”
“Don’t,” and admittedly my cold veneer started to crack when I heard that vulnerability I had only seen in his eyes once, when I had first arrived here a few days ago. “I know what I need to do,” his fingers slipped off my hand leaving three cold spot where those warm fingers had left their mark.
“Stop trying so hard,” my words trailed off as I half expected him to interrupted, “I don’t need you trying to be someone you’re not then snapping when you can’t handle it anymore.” A labored sigh passed through him and as I brought my hand up, letting the cool paper rest on my bottom lip, I wondered what had happened. ‘When did I become the strong one?’ I questioned myself silently. “You can’t do that to me,” warm smoke rolled off my tongue with each word, “or to yourself.” Extinguishing the warm nub of my cigarette I felt myself slipping dangerously deep into the silence I feared he would never pull us out of . “Come here.” my words slightly above a whisper.
He made no sound as he moved; but when I felt his weight come to rest on the other side of the couch I knew he had heard me. Reaching out, I groped for him until my fingers landed on soft cotton and gave a little tug - no words required. On cue his weight shifted and my fingers ran through that familiar mess of hair as his head gently lay in my lap. His large hand landed on my thigh before slipping down, giving my knee a slight squeeze.
“Tell me about it.” I whispered as I draped an arm over his shoulder, letting my hand come to rest on his cotton covered chest.
“A part of me is afraid,” his body more tense with every word, “that you’re only here because of who you think I am. . .what you think I can give you.” Rolling his words through my mind I felt the heart under my hand begin to thump harder. “I’ve had that before. Women who’ve loved me for the image I’ve cultivated, for what that image can do for them, and what it can give them.” he drew a deep shaky breath, “All those memories just came over me tonight and I got scared.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me that earlier, instead of erupting like that?”
“I was too afraid.”
“That it would be true?” I questioned as my fingers began drawing soft circles on what I knew was a black t-shirt.
“Or that it wouldn’t and you’d be mad at me for having thought that way.”
“I love you for who you are Ville,” bending down to place a soft kiss to his temple, “and not for anything else.” A warm hand slid over mine, our fingers entwining just above his heartbeat. “If you really want this to last, us to last, then you have to trust me enough to be honest with me.” Lifting his head from my lap I felt him turn towards me and when I could feel his breath on my cheek I knew his face was only inches from mine.
“I do want us to last.” His hand cupped my cheek, a comforting touch I couldn’t help but lean into, as his thumb began drawing soft lines under my eye, perhaps looking for tears. “I’m sorry about this evening,” resting his forehead against mine, “and for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me.” My voice betrayed me by wavering as I remembered the sensation of his hand grasping my wrist. Without thinking I allowed my fingers to trail over my now tender wrist, finding what I knew would show as small bruises tomorrow.
“I know I did, when I grabbed you, I saw it in your eyes.” Biting my lip as he moved his hand up to trail his fingers through my hair. “Please don’t lie to me” his words a whisper as those soft lips ghosted over mine.
“I know you didn’t mean it. I know you better than that Ville.” words soft as I waited to feel the pressure of those lips, which I knew could steady my trembling heart.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” and with that he pressed his lips lightly to mine in a gentle kiss that summed everything up. His tongue trailed over my bottom lip, and as quickly as the kiss began it was over. “Meg. . .”
“No more apologies. I’m too tired for any more of this.” His lips touched mine again before his weight lifted from the couch and as his arms found there way behind my knees and back, I wrapped mine securely around his neck; I was safe again. As we came into the bedroom the dull light from the bedside lamp caressed us for the first time and as he laid my exhausted body on the blankets I took note of the tired look covering his visage and the sadness in those normally brilliant eyes. I stared silently, studying his features as he pulled my shirt and pants off before ushering me under the blankets where he joined me only moments later. “Don’t.” My hand on his arm as he turned to switch the light off; looking back at me I took in the details of his face, those cheek bones, the slight stubble he was letting pepper his upper lip, and the unfamiliar tinge of red clouding his eyes.
“Meg?” he questioned as I let my thumb caress the delicate skin below his left eye.
“I love you Ville” a sheepish smile raised his lips for the first time that night.
“And I love you.” punctuated by a meek kiss on my forehead before he switched the light off, descending us back into darkness. Long arms wrapped around me as I curled into his chest knowing that the darkness would make it all better and tomorrow would shine brighter than any other.
Rating: NC-17, not at the beginning, but it gets there
Pairing: Ville and Meg (You don't know her yet, but read on and you will)
Genre: Drama/Romance
Disclaimer: I own Meg, Alice, Christina, and Sandi as they are all of my own creation. As for everyone else, don't know and don't own. And I'm willing to bet this never really happened.
Chapter 1-7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30
With a tired sigh my legs curled in tight against my chest as tired eyes tried in vain to focus on the flickering light of the television. Sinking into this couch, that’s where I’ve been since my hasty retreat for his cold eyes and harsh grip; I had done nothing with the passing hours but curl deeper into myself and try to avoid thinking about the events of earlier this evening. With the silent push of a button I was pulled into the crisp black night that had descended over the city and with a soft thud the remote landed on the floor.
“I shouldn’t even be here” I mumbled as if reprimanding myself as I rolled onto my back and allowed my open hands to cover my tired face. The tension was quietly building and in the silence of his living room I realized there was no way to stop that awful feeling churning in my gut. In fact the longer I lay there the worse the feeling grew and as I let my eyes slip closed I could see him in my mind resting easy, that lithe pale frame huddled under the familiar warmth of safe blankets.
‘Fucking spoilt rockstar’ a cliché I never thought would apply to him was now running rampant through my exhausted head. A shudder ran through me as I contemplated my current situation, ‘is this what I’ve become?’ I silently scolded myself, ‘a mere toy, a rag doll, for some spoiled musician?’ Letting my hands slip off my face, I released the desperate breath I had apparently been holding and tried with no success to silence all the bitter memories which seemed to be playing out before my eyes. It was like watching a movie of our worst moments: the night I had gotten drunk, visiting only to find him with her, the first few nights in New York and now this. My heart beat accelerating as my voice came from me in a calm and completely emotionless tone which seems to echo off the walls, “I can’t do this.”
“And you shouldn’t have to.” his voice hit my sense as a burst of ice water to warm skin and the silence that followed was even more uncomfortable. Those sobering words in that thick voice had come from somewhere behind me, perhaps the hallway and while my first thought was to sit up and look to him, my pride didn’t allow it. A little voice in the back of my head told me to be the bigger person and start the conversation that we obviously needed to have, but the bigger the silence between us grew the more justified I felt in forcing him to take responsibility for fixing this: for fixing us. Just as I had begun to think he was gone, my ears caught the dull sound of bare feet scuffing across the hardwood floor. My ears followed him from behind my makeshift bed to the far side of the dark coffee table which sat before me and as those feet came to a stop I let my hand casually come up to rest on the knot that was my stomach. In the darkness my eyes followed what they could of his dark frame as he dropped to the floor. My eyes slipped closed, waiting for the living shadow on the other side of the carved table to crack this silence with his words, but still we said nothing. After sometime, perhaps it was a minute or five or twenty, my eyes fell open peering across the table, trying to make out anything I could of his slight frame, but he had successfully sank into the darkness of the room. A quiet rustling filled the room, the sound of cardboard slipping on cardboard and the crinkling of foil followed almost immediately by the sharp sound of the metal wheel turning on a cheap plastic lighter. Three turns and the small flame sprang to life; I watched intently as those pink lips came into the light and pursed around the crisp white filter as the tip of the cigarette turned a glowing amber and just like that the flame was gone. Keeping my eyes focused on where I knew he was, I watched as the cherry lit up slightly every time that burning vice reached his lips and he drew a deep breath.
“I’m fucked up. . .”
“I know.” my interruption came without warning and only stopped that raspy voice for a moment.
“No,” an uneasiness covering his voice, “I mean it Meg, you don’t deserve this. You should have something better, some one stable.”
“So is that it?” I spat at him as I felt all the muscles in my body tense. “Is this how you want it to end? You want to end this because of some revelation that you’re fucked up?”
“No that’s not it,” his words soft and measured, “that’s not it at all.” A deep breath was drawn by that living shadow, “I don’t want to end this, but. . there’s just some things. . .” I bit my lip as I tried to decide if he was looking for the right words or trying to steady that voice which was starting to falter, “things about me. . .my past. . .”
“Ville,” even in the dark I know the tone of my voice brought his eyes up to where he suspected mine were, “you need to start talking. Stop hiding.” Slipping my legs over the side of the couch I brought my body to an upright position and reached out, groping the table until I the found the white box and the plastic lighter. Lighting one of his cigarettes I waited for him to decide; was what we had worth it to him? Worth opening up? Being vulnerable?
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
“You think I mean to?” His voice slightly raised sending an icy chill through my bones as I took a warm drag. He knew what the answer would be, so instead of responding I sat there quietly, letting the gray smoke silently roll over my lips as I waited patiently for the conversation to continue. Leaning over slightly, stretching my arm out, letting the fragile ash tip off the end of that slowly smoldering stick. Just as my thumb flicked the filter the rough touch of calloused fingers trailed along the back of my hand. “I’m so afraid of fucking this up, I. . .”
“You spend too much time. . .”
“Don’t,” and admittedly my cold veneer started to crack when I heard that vulnerability I had only seen in his eyes once, when I had first arrived here a few days ago. “I know what I need to do,” his fingers slipped off my hand leaving three cold spot where those warm fingers had left their mark.
“Stop trying so hard,” my words trailed off as I half expected him to interrupted, “I don’t need you trying to be someone you’re not then snapping when you can’t handle it anymore.” A labored sigh passed through him and as I brought my hand up, letting the cool paper rest on my bottom lip, I wondered what had happened. ‘When did I become the strong one?’ I questioned myself silently. “You can’t do that to me,” warm smoke rolled off my tongue with each word, “or to yourself.” Extinguishing the warm nub of my cigarette I felt myself slipping dangerously deep into the silence I feared he would never pull us out of . “Come here.” my words slightly above a whisper.
He made no sound as he moved; but when I felt his weight come to rest on the other side of the couch I knew he had heard me. Reaching out, I groped for him until my fingers landed on soft cotton and gave a little tug - no words required. On cue his weight shifted and my fingers ran through that familiar mess of hair as his head gently lay in my lap. His large hand landed on my thigh before slipping down, giving my knee a slight squeeze.
“Tell me about it.” I whispered as I draped an arm over his shoulder, letting my hand come to rest on his cotton covered chest.
“A part of me is afraid,” his body more tense with every word, “that you’re only here because of who you think I am. . .what you think I can give you.” Rolling his words through my mind I felt the heart under my hand begin to thump harder. “I’ve had that before. Women who’ve loved me for the image I’ve cultivated, for what that image can do for them, and what it can give them.” he drew a deep shaky breath, “All those memories just came over me tonight and I got scared.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me that earlier, instead of erupting like that?”
“I was too afraid.”
“That it would be true?” I questioned as my fingers began drawing soft circles on what I knew was a black t-shirt.
“Or that it wouldn’t and you’d be mad at me for having thought that way.”
“I love you for who you are Ville,” bending down to place a soft kiss to his temple, “and not for anything else.” A warm hand slid over mine, our fingers entwining just above his heartbeat. “If you really want this to last, us to last, then you have to trust me enough to be honest with me.” Lifting his head from my lap I felt him turn towards me and when I could feel his breath on my cheek I knew his face was only inches from mine.
“I do want us to last.” His hand cupped my cheek, a comforting touch I couldn’t help but lean into, as his thumb began drawing soft lines under my eye, perhaps looking for tears. “I’m sorry about this evening,” resting his forehead against mine, “and for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me.” My voice betrayed me by wavering as I remembered the sensation of his hand grasping my wrist. Without thinking I allowed my fingers to trail over my now tender wrist, finding what I knew would show as small bruises tomorrow.
“I know I did, when I grabbed you, I saw it in your eyes.” Biting my lip as he moved his hand up to trail his fingers through my hair. “Please don’t lie to me” his words a whisper as those soft lips ghosted over mine.
“I know you didn’t mean it. I know you better than that Ville.” words soft as I waited to feel the pressure of those lips, which I knew could steady my trembling heart.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” and with that he pressed his lips lightly to mine in a gentle kiss that summed everything up. His tongue trailed over my bottom lip, and as quickly as the kiss began it was over. “Meg. . .”
“No more apologies. I’m too tired for any more of this.” His lips touched mine again before his weight lifted from the couch and as his arms found there way behind my knees and back, I wrapped mine securely around his neck; I was safe again. As we came into the bedroom the dull light from the bedside lamp caressed us for the first time and as he laid my exhausted body on the blankets I took note of the tired look covering his visage and the sadness in those normally brilliant eyes. I stared silently, studying his features as he pulled my shirt and pants off before ushering me under the blankets where he joined me only moments later. “Don’t.” My hand on his arm as he turned to switch the light off; looking back at me I took in the details of his face, those cheek bones, the slight stubble he was letting pepper his upper lip, and the unfamiliar tinge of red clouding his eyes.
“Meg?” he questioned as I let my thumb caress the delicate skin below his left eye.
“I love you Ville” a sheepish smile raised his lips for the first time that night.
“And I love you.” punctuated by a meek kiss on my forehead before he switched the light off, descending us back into darkness. Long arms wrapped around me as I curled into his chest knowing that the darkness would make it all better and tomorrow would shine brighter than any other.