[personal profile] lilychick
All written at the same time as this one, but I didn't post them then...at the time, that one (the 2nd I did) was the only one I liked, then I changed my mind and decided I liked the first and last as well, then decided to just post all of them (as long as I was posting 3 out of 4 anyway), then I forgot all about it.

So here are the others.

Sadly, there are no character names in any of them, because apparently I just plain write easier that way.

We make a great-looking triangle, but one that's lopsided...he stares at her. She stares at him.

Three's a crowd.

I have to step right in front of him to get his attention, and he still only gives it reluctantly. The eyes that fix on me are cold and unimpressed. He's never fucking impressed. Not that I stood up to him, not that I got the girl --

*That* was my biggest mistake. Because he keeps looking back at her. And she welcomes it; she's made a big show of everything, but we all know what she really wants.

I tried to use it. I tried to take her out of the equation. It was just me and him once, and if it couldn't be that way again, at least I could take her away from him. I could use her to make him look at me again. It's better to be hated than to be ignored.

But she stares at him, and he stares back at her. I'm tired of explaining that I did this for him, for us, because he's stopped listening.

When I kiss her, I know we're both thinking of him. But every time, she's the only one he sees.


We used to look so alike that they would mix us up, not that I ever thought there was any reason. Sure, we were inseparable, but we were *different*, simply packaging ourselves as one person to get through the door, and make it easier to swallow.

And I guess we *were* one person, in all the ways that mattered.

Looking at us now, I don't think even JR, in all his forgetful slips of the tongue, could ever confuse us.

The niceties feel foreign, and even as we speak them, part of my mind is detached, matching this picture of you to the one seared into my mind -- these narrowed, hardened eyes to the ones that gazed at me so guilelessly throughout our lives.

Those people...those kids with the matching long blond hair, who could get through anything together, who shared every win and loss, who never needed anything as much as they needed each other...they've been gone for a long time, I know, but this is the first time I've ever looked back at them and thought they seemed like strangers.

Just like we are, now.


"That was priceless," he laughs, clapping me on the back. "Man, that just...it made so many people's *lives*."

I laugh too, just barely. "Far be it from me to judge, but that's sad."

"Well. You know. Sometimes things just build up in your mind, until it becomes something epic." He shrugs. "And sometimes it affects an entire country. United, in their quest for vengeance."

I can't figure out how to tell him that I hope this isn't true. That the support, so overwhelming, came totally based on my own merit, and not on some national fulfillment of a seven-year-old grudge.

"I kinda wish it had been me," he continues wistfully, which doesn't help.

"I thought you liked him."

"Sure," he says, "but I still wish it had been me." He looks at me, wistful. "The conquering hero."



June 2009

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