|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Feb 15, 2009 17:14:35 GMT -5
“Get up.” She hissed, too softly for him to hear; her hands lingered above his sleeping form, she was afraid to touch him. There he was, in her bed in her apartment, like he belonged there. Aria had let herself get too carried away with this fantasy of hers. They were playing some kind of glorified version of house, a sick and twisted game that she’d become obsessed with. Aria had waited eighteen years for this, to wake up and feel him beside her, but it wasn’t right. There meetings were hurried and ended all too quickly, at bizarre hours and in bizarre places. They had to sneak around like teenagers. It disgusted her. She had resolved herself not to cry and not to back down; there would be no changing her mind. Aria Finn couldn’t live this way. It wasn’t the guilt of being in love with someone else’s husband, or the fear that they would be caught, or even jealously, it was simply feeling content. It felt strange, alien. “Get. Up.” Her voice was slightly pained, and panicked. The faster she spoke, the faster it would be over. For a moment, she wavered. Why couldn’t she go on living like they had? She loved him, wasn’t that enough for now? Aria watched the slow and gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed; it almost pained her to wake him. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, backing away from the bed, from him, from all of this; this wasn’t happening. Not again.
Aria Finn felt suddenly and startling seventeen again; though this time she hoped she wouldn’t be pregnant with his child, and this time, she knew there wouldn’t be a second chance, even if she waited another eighteen years. She had to destroy it while she could, before she got too wrapped up in their play world, before she admitted to herself that she needed him. Her hand shot out and she felt around blindly for any form of comfort, a bottle of anything would do. But there was nothing at hand, she’d gotten rid of some of it, and hidden the rest. Aria thought back to where she’d stashed things, there was gin in a shoe box in the closet, and a half bottle of vodka in her medicine cabinet. She dug in a pocket of an old coat, she hadn’t worn it in perhaps a year, but she knew what was there. Within moments she had the cigarette between her lips, he’d never liked it when she smoked. A sort of calm fell over her as she lifted the shaky hand to her mouth; she flicked the lighter softly, praying for a flame. Twice, three times, and then finally, it lit. Within seconds, the familiar scent and comfort of smoke surrounded her. She felt like her old self, her good old Trent-despising self.
The light switch was several feet away, she thought that perhaps it would be a little much to just flick on the lights and demand he leave her home, but then she remembered, she hated him, she didn’t care what he thought or how he felt. Aria’s hand wavered for a moment as she contemplated her options. Why couldn’t she let them be happy for just a little bit longer? Just a few minutes? A slow, curling puff of smoke trailed from between her lips, and she smiled. The lights were brighter than she’d expected, and for a moment she wondered if she should have put on more clothes. But it was too late for that now. “Trent, you’ve overstayed your welcome. You can leave now.” Her voice didn’t waver, not even in the slightest. It was almost frightening how easy it was to slide back into her old ways, like an old dress. Their lovely little façade was quickly crumbling, Aria held fast to the chair beside her, worried she’d fall if she let go. She wasn’t supposed to feel things. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right. In the back of her mind, she tried to comfort herself, telling herself that nothing can last forever. And she supposed that was true, things fall apart.
(ooc: lyk omg itz taria! ik it is short and suckish, but i missed them. <333)
|
|
