FIC: Indecision
May. 10th, 2008 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Indecision
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt: 94 - danger zone at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Warnings: None.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Sometimes decisions which should be easy aren't.
Disclaimer: I own this. Not that it's doing me a lot of good.
A/N: This was written in part as a response for my writing group, "It's wrong. I know it's wrong."
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
"It's wrong, I know it's wrong."
“Yet, you still persist in seeing her.” I was proud that I kept my voice even. Reaching out for my wine glass, I saw that my calmness didn’t stretch as far as I would hope. My fingers were trembling.
“I don’t love her.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?” I smiled, but it felt stiff, fake. “Because hearing that you betrayed me… us… for someone you don’t even love.” My voice cracked and I had to force myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t want to attract attention. “It doesn’t make it any less painful.”
“How is your dinner this evening?” The waiter stopped by our table with a falsely bright smile. I’m sure he was wondering why we hadn’t touched anything we’d ordered but the wine.
“Lovely, thank you.” I croaked, not looking up. I heard him make an assurance, but I couldn’t focus on anything beyond the crushing sense of failure to actually make sense of his words. Nothing he had said since we sat down at this ridiculously expensive dinner had made any sense.
Words that I had understood perfectly well just hours ago were suddenly strange and alien – love, affair, betrayal, respect, honor. Marriage. Divorce. “Why?”
“Because she doesn’t make me feel like a failure.” His answer, so ready and so quick off his tongue, hurt more than the first admission that there was someone else.
“And I do?” I could feel hot tears swimming in my eyes and I hastily picked up the napkin and dabbed them away. I had to keep my composure. It was all I had left, but his words had pushed me further into the danger zone and it was a real fight not to break down into sobs.
He ignored me for a long moment, choosing to drink his wine and think. “Sometimes. Most of the time.”
“Are you going to see her again?” It seemed like the most obvious question.
“Yes.”
“Are you leaving me?” I whispered.
He sighed. “No.” He swirled his wine and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. It surprised me. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Do you still love me?”
He hesitated, but nodded slowly. “Sometimes. Most of the time.” He drained the rest of his wine, and we waited while the servers cleared away the untouched appetizer and left salads which neither of us had any interest in. “Do you still love me?”
“You have no right to ask me that.” I hissed under my breath.
“No, I don’t. But I’m asking you anyway. Do you still love me?”
“No.” I lied and I saw him recoil slightly. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I picked up my fork and speared a cucumber slice viciously. “Right now I don’t.”
“That’s fair.” He shrugged and I glared at him.
“That’s the only thing that’s fair about this whole situation.” I retorted and he had the grace to look sheepish. Neither of us spoke for a long moment and he picked up his own fork and began to push his food around. “What’s her name?”
“I’m not…”
“What?” I challenged. “You’re not telling me? Because if that’s the route you wanted to take, you should have kept this whole wretched thing a secret. I would rather have never known, but since I do know,” I realized my voice was getting louder and made an effort to speak more quietly, “what is her name?”
“Leala.”
I choked on laughter and he shot me a curious look. “Leala is Spanish for faithful.” I explained and after a moment he crooked a smile at me – the same smile that made me fall in love with him the first time.
“Ironic.” He set down his fork. “What are you going to do?”
I looked over at him, his eyes anxious, but still so achingly familiar and breathed out slowly. I just didn’t know.
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt: 94 - danger zone at
tamingthemuseWarnings: None.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Sometimes decisions which should be easy aren't.
Disclaimer: I own this. Not that it's doing me a lot of good.
A/N: This was written in part as a response for my writing group, "It's wrong. I know it's wrong."
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
"It's wrong, I know it's wrong."
“Yet, you still persist in seeing her.” I was proud that I kept my voice even. Reaching out for my wine glass, I saw that my calmness didn’t stretch as far as I would hope. My fingers were trembling.
“I don’t love her.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?” I smiled, but it felt stiff, fake. “Because hearing that you betrayed me… us… for someone you don’t even love.” My voice cracked and I had to force myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t want to attract attention. “It doesn’t make it any less painful.”
“How is your dinner this evening?” The waiter stopped by our table with a falsely bright smile. I’m sure he was wondering why we hadn’t touched anything we’d ordered but the wine.
“Lovely, thank you.” I croaked, not looking up. I heard him make an assurance, but I couldn’t focus on anything beyond the crushing sense of failure to actually make sense of his words. Nothing he had said since we sat down at this ridiculously expensive dinner had made any sense.
Words that I had understood perfectly well just hours ago were suddenly strange and alien – love, affair, betrayal, respect, honor. Marriage. Divorce. “Why?”
“Because she doesn’t make me feel like a failure.” His answer, so ready and so quick off his tongue, hurt more than the first admission that there was someone else.
“And I do?” I could feel hot tears swimming in my eyes and I hastily picked up the napkin and dabbed them away. I had to keep my composure. It was all I had left, but his words had pushed me further into the danger zone and it was a real fight not to break down into sobs.
He ignored me for a long moment, choosing to drink his wine and think. “Sometimes. Most of the time.”
“Are you going to see her again?” It seemed like the most obvious question.
“Yes.”
“Are you leaving me?” I whispered.
He sighed. “No.” He swirled his wine and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. It surprised me. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Do you still love me?”
He hesitated, but nodded slowly. “Sometimes. Most of the time.” He drained the rest of his wine, and we waited while the servers cleared away the untouched appetizer and left salads which neither of us had any interest in. “Do you still love me?”
“You have no right to ask me that.” I hissed under my breath.
“No, I don’t. But I’m asking you anyway. Do you still love me?”
“No.” I lied and I saw him recoil slightly. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I picked up my fork and speared a cucumber slice viciously. “Right now I don’t.”
“That’s fair.” He shrugged and I glared at him.
“That’s the only thing that’s fair about this whole situation.” I retorted and he had the grace to look sheepish. Neither of us spoke for a long moment and he picked up his own fork and began to push his food around. “What’s her name?”
“I’m not…”
“What?” I challenged. “You’re not telling me? Because if that’s the route you wanted to take, you should have kept this whole wretched thing a secret. I would rather have never known, but since I do know,” I realized my voice was getting louder and made an effort to speak more quietly, “what is her name?”
“Leala.”
I choked on laughter and he shot me a curious look. “Leala is Spanish for faithful.” I explained and after a moment he crooked a smile at me – the same smile that made me fall in love with him the first time.
“Ironic.” He set down his fork. “What are you going to do?”
I looked over at him, his eyes anxious, but still so achingly familiar and breathed out slowly. I just didn’t know.
