| Welcome to Phoenix Penna. We hope you enjoy your visit. |
| Penthouse Suite; Anastasia's Place | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Sep 26 2009, 04:47 AM (1,451 Views) | |
| Anastasia Zytsev | Sep 26 2009, 04:47 AM Post #1 |
|
Anastasia showed up to England on her own, an untraceable porkey bringing her right into the room. Bag after bag after bag followed, boxes following after that. Within fifteen minutes, she was completely kicked out of her home, her life, in New York, and into a new one. For a moment, she just looked around her at the elegant, but typical hotel bland decor, clutching her sketchbook and her laptop to her chest. She had a new bank account here, at somewhere named Gringotts, a new, basically, identity, for she didn't think she was well known in England, and for a moment, her belief that this was just a new adventure fell. She had never been so far away from everything she knew, on her own, with no idea of anything around her. Just the room. Which would be dreadful for creative juices. Since she was living there for a year, Anastasia took a deep breath, and regained her confidence, putting her things down on one of the boxes that had arrived, and took out her wand. She would just...enhance things a little bit. If the hotel had a problem, she'd just pay them extra, or go somewhere else. The first room she moved into was the bedroom. It was on the small side, but it had windows. A little extra color would suffice for it, she figured, and after a few tries, Anastasia had the green that she wanted. Green was calming, and good for dreaming. A few clearly labeled boxes were levitated into the room after her, and she started slowly unpacking. It was weird, putting clothes into a dresser that wasn't hers (and needed to be expanded magically) and a closet that was walk in (but also expanded). Picture frames were arranged neatly on her nightstand and bookcase, more books, her jewelry, and other little trinkets. Boxes were collapsed and slid behind the dresser.  Next, she moved into the study, or office. It was large, which was good, but it was also pretty empty. To amuse herself, she took two of her sketches, copied, and magnitized it, sticking it on the wall for inspiration. Once she had her things in there; research books, thesauruses, and a little tv followed by her laptop, her journals, her sketchbook, and files of manuscripts filled the room, a sofa, cushions, pencils and pens and other mundane items finishing the look.  The kitchen, she didn't really do much to. She mindlessly unpacked her coffee mugs and appliances, her plates, and the groceries she was sent with. Deciding that a bright, random color was exactly what she needed to cheer her up, she just magically tinted it pink.  Her bathroom, however, had already been pre-designed for her. Her bathroom was large, a place for her to relax, and detox after writing. As of such, she had uniquely designed items in there, and it was with a pang that she noted it was designed exactly like she'd had it at home. Instead of dwelling on it, however, Anastasia just pulled in her last box, opening it to pull out her plethora of bath salts, soaps, shampoos, oils, powders, candles, scrub-brushes, and lotions. In one corner, her new-generation shower sat, the blue color making her relax, just a little. The bathtub opposite of it was of a similar design, and she sat a blown-glass ornament on top, brushing her fingers over the cool edge of it. The black sink was on the wall near the shower, and the toilet was caddy-corner to it in the same plain black. In the middle of the room, she had her black massage table. For a moment, Anastasia looked at it. She'd been comfortable with her masseuse. She didn't even know if people did that here. Here, the wet, gray country. She was positively going to turn sallow.     Once Anastasia was done unpacking, she stood in the middle of the penthouse, looking around her. She couldn't write, not right then, and she didn't really feel like going to sleep, or reading, or just staying in the room at all. So she donned some rain-boots she had previously just worn for style, over her leggings, and grabbed a jacket to throw over her plaid tunic, deciding to go explore. |
 | |
 |
 
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 4 2009, 09:42 PM Post #2 |
|
Parker had thought it over the entire way there. He kept coming to the same conclusion. She either was HIV positive, or infected with AIDS, and it had come from a form of life-saving procedure. The more he'd thought it, the easier it was for him to notice signs, and understand why she was always so hesitant. Why even on that drunken night... It wasn't like he cared intensely that they'd never slept together. They were rather incredibly good friends, and he wouldn't trade that for anything. She made him laugh, made him smile, and more importantly than anything -- she knew him, she made him care. So it wasn't the fact that this had apparently cut them off from sex that was bothering him. No, he was upset for what she had to be going through, what she had to be dealing with, that he'd never known. He climbed all the way up (she would be in the penthouse) still with that etching of knowledge on his face and knocked on her door, not at all prepared for what he was going to see. While he waited, he fidgeted a bit with the cuff of his sleeve. |
 we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Little_Annie | Nov 5 2009, 04:19 AM Post #3 |
|
After Parker had left her, Annie had headed back to the hotel. Coming in might have been the singularly most scary thing that she had ever been through. The second she was in the flat, the music had stopped, and the demanding questions had started. Where was she, who was she with, what she was doing...everything but the question she knew her older self wanted to know. She clearly hadn't stopped playing the instrument since Annie had left, and her older self had been doing it since five in the morning, she estimated. Her older self was flushed, eyes feverish, out of breath. But Annie had went back to playing that hard, fast, haunting tune again and again, and she had backed down and picked up a book to doodle on. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door, and suddenly her own heart was beating fast, literally lurching off the ground to get there before her older self heard, opening the door slightly. When she saw the older Parker though, she literally paled, not opening it wider. "He told you??" She whispered, her eyebrows furrowing worriedly, "She's going to kill me!" Well. She was keeping the door semi-closed until the music stopped, and then she just threw it open, and ran for it. Edited by Little_Annie, Nov 5 2009, 08:47 AM.
|
| |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 5 2009, 04:33 AM Post #4 |
|
Annie had been unable to sleep once she'd completely ruined the secret she'd kept for the past six years to her younger self. Despite her efforts, she knew her younger self, given the opportunity, would spill as soon as she had the chance. Because she couldn't sleep, Annie had decided to go to her piano, and when that wasn't distracting her enough, she pulled out her old flute. Taking it apart and putting it back together, clean and ready, helped, and then she pulled out her most difficult piece and pulled it together. She hadn't even noticed that her younger self had left until she saw the girl coming back in, and she would admit it. She'd freaked out a little bit. But she knew. She, just knew. So when she heard the knock, she just played louder, taking more air to do it, but when the whispering started to really grate on her nerves, she just stopped mid-phrase, and turned around. Seeing her younger self disappear only made her even more frustrated, and she barely spared the older Parker a glance as she spoke, seriously breathless, "This isn't a good time." And then she grabbed her music, and disappeared into her study, the door slamming shut behind her. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 5 2009, 08:49 PM Post #5 |
|
Guitar and all, the littler Parker was pulled out by the littler Annie and they both had gone running off..somewhere. Parker blinked after them, but he was more concerned by the fact that there was a loud, haunting tune straining through the door still. It wasn't even coming from her piano. No, that was coming from her flute, and he just..knew. He knew how stressful and hard this had to be for her. She looked at him for half a second, stiff and scared and breathless from her playing, and then had stalked off into her study. "Anastasia." He said as she walked, before the door slammed shut. He knew prying wasn't going to help anyone, but he'd been told, expressly, what it was. He hadn't been prying. He'd been concerned, and that he still was. And that was why he knew he couldn't let her hide behind the door. He couldn't let her hide this from him, and more importantly...it was becoming quickly evident how hard she was hiding this from herself. So while it might pain him, he wasn't going to take that. He marched right after her and brought his hand up knocking once more, knowing that wasn't going to stop him anyways. Locked or not, he was getting into that room. "Annie. There's not going to be a good time, right? " He spoke the nickname in exhasperation. "Anastasia, I understand it's hard. I want to help. Okay?" He opened the door and held both hands up, even as he shut it behind him. He didn't ask why she hadn't told him. He didn't ask why she was so panicked about him knowing. He understood it had nothing to do with him, but he said simply. "I wish you'd told me." His hands were still up, even as he took a few steps closer to her. He wasn't trying to threaten her, but really, she had to put that flute down before she collapsed entirely of breathlessness. "I really do. I could have...helped. I could have been there. I'm really sorry I wasn't. But I understand why you didn't tell me, and I ... can you clarify for me?" He paused and asked it in a soft, concerned, voice the tone mirrored in his expression. "What is it, exactly? A sickness I'd be liable to catch if we were together, I already heard. Please, Annie, help me understand." Yes, he thought he knew. But he wanted to hear her say it. |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 5 2009, 10:30 PM Post #6 |
|
Annie heard him call her name. She'd heard quite clearly, despite the ringing in her ears. She knew she was pushing it. She knew her lungs didn't have an unlimited supply of air. She knew he would probably try to follow, and that was why she locked the door, set up the music against her window, and started playing once again. Though it was basically a criminal offense to enter her study without permission, she knew he wouldn't care about that. She was a little surprised when he invaded her space through a locked door after she'd specificially told him she didn't want to see him, but really, she just tried to take a deeper breath and pushed harder, the higher notes actually becoming painful to even her own ears. And damnit, she could still hear him through that good for nothing door! She was tempted to turn around and tell him that he would be helping her if he just left her alone, but that would acknowledge that he was in her private room with her, and therefore encourage him. So she just focused on her music. He was right, of course. There wasn''t going to be a good time, and she was perfectly good keeping it that way. She didn't want to talk about it when it happened, she didn't want to talk about it when she found out, she hadn't wanted to tell anyone, ever. It had slipped out to her younger self because she'd been pushed too far, and she regreted that gravely. But that did not mean that she was willing to talk about it with Parker. Not then. Maybe not ever. He said he understood that it was hard, and she violently jerked her flute up to end the section and keep going. It cleaned out any clogged passage ways, but she didn't have to do it as harshly as she had. He said he understood? Really? What part of it did he understand? How about none of it, because he wasn't supposed to know? And just the fact that he wanted to help? There wasn't anything he could do. She had accepted that a long time ago, and she was secure in her decision. So why was it so bloody hard to understand that? If she hadn't told him yet, couldn't he have just respected that? Could have been there? Could have helped. Lord, she was going to break her flute. He needed to get out of her space. She refused to look at him, not going off her music any longer. She just played whatever the hell she wanted to, eyes fixed out her window. Her goddamn little self had told, and it had barely even been a day before she had people banging down her doors. Literally, banging down her doors. She just continued to ignore him. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 8 2009, 09:33 AM Post #7 |
|
Anastasia didn't answer him at all. Not verbally. But her actions, her music, was just as telling of an answer as if she had answered entirely. Parker was very acoustically oriented, as he had played his guitar for years. Her notes would pitch or her breath would snap in reaction to his words and when she turned right around on him he winced and shook his head from side to side. He knew she was listening. In fact, he knew she was taking in every word and that was why she wasn't responding. He honestly didn't know what to do. He thought for a moment that he could just leave it alone, just go and try to ignore it, as she clearly hadn't wanted him to know. After all, wasn't the best support for her going to be respecting her wishes on the matter? Except for one thing. He wasn't able, to support her, because he didn't really know. He had a best educated guess, and she was running away from it as fast as she could blow into the flute. He had been inching his way towards her, and when she turned towards the window, Parker just swiftly reached up and took the flute from her. His frustration, hurt, anger, concern and more emotions he didn't care to name was just evident on his face as he took it way from her, and held it behind his back, feeling slightly silly. He shouldn't have had to do that to her...but he was annoyed. He was upset. And he was frustrated beyond belief. Struggling to find a way to put all of it into words, the fact that he couldn't was slightly bothering him. He wasn't ever silent. Parker always could find a way to express himself. Always. Now he was at a loss. He just wanted to help. He was angry, yes. He was angry she was trying to hide and run from it. But more than anything at all, he was just hurt. And not because of himself, but for her. He wanted to know what he could to help her, he wanted to know if there was anything. He just... he just wanted her to know she wasn't alone. But there was nothing he could really do, was there? His voice cracked as he finally said simply, "Why didn't you tell me?" |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 8 2009, 09:49 AM Post #8 |
|
Annie realized far too late what was going on when Parker was moving closer and closer to her until it was too late, and her flute made a sharp, flat note that was not part of the song; she winced, but very nearly immediately regained her furious expression. No one ever, entered her study without her permission, especially after it was locked. No one ever interrupted her when she was playing her flute, and no one ever took it away from her. Immediately she was on the defensive, words bursting out of her, "Tell you what? What is your problem?! You know better. I know you know better than to bother me when I lock my study. You, maybe more than anyone else. Give me back my flute right this minute, Parker Faye, or I swear to merlin you're going to regret it." She took a few steps forward and held out her hand, "You have no right here anymore. Give me my flute, and leave." |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 8 2009, 09:57 AM Post #9 |
|
"If I know you that well, why is it you haven't told me Anastasia?" Parker knew he wasn't "supposed" to be there- he knew she had to calm down, but he also knew that if he left right then, then he was never going to get anywhere. He knew she would never want to talk about it. He knew there was never going to be a good time. It was going to be hard and painful and bitter and nasty no matter when he brought it up. So no time like the present, right? Their friendship really wasn't going to be worth a lot in the end if he couldn't get her to talk to him. He couldn't think of a thing he hadn't told her, but this? This was big. Did he feel sort of guilty? Yes. Did he really want nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her and try to will the disease away? Absolutely. Could he? ....Maybe not at that moment. So he just kept pressing, ignoring that she was asking for the flute back. "Tell me what? You know what! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Annie, is it..." His voice faltered, because he couldn't be angry when he said this. He couldn't be anything but worried and filled with angst over it. "Is it HIV? Are you HIV Positive? " If she exploded? So much the better. |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 8 2009, 10:04 AM Post #10 |
|
Yes, why hadn't she told him? Anastasia stood there for a moment, just staring at him. Did she really want to have that information out right then? Did she even want him to know? At all? Clearly, she didn't have a choice. Hearing the words come out of his mouth though? She couldn't help herself; she flinched, and knew the second that she had, she'd given it away, completely. "Why didn't I tell you whatever it is? Oh, maybe because I didn't want to? Maybe because it's not that big of a deal? Maybe because it's not of your business? Maybe because I don't want pity or extra care or whatever the hell would result in it? Because it doesn't, ~censored~ing matter? Because that's not a good conversation starter? Because it means nothing?" Her hands went up to run through her hair, and she turned, like she was going to look out the window, but instead ended up turning right back to him, eyes flashing, "What did my younger self tell you?" |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 8 2009, 10:24 AM Post #11 |
|
When she flinched, Parker hurt. He literally winced himself, eyebrow going up and expression twisting. He was right. He knew he was right. But he also knew that was as much a confirmation as he was going to get, and he didn't know what to do with it. He honestly, didn't. When she got this angry, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was just scared, and it was really strange because in that moment he was completely overwhelmed, hurt, confused...and her actual words were just washing over his ears, heard but not processed the way she'd probably like. A hundred and a half reasons she'd just given him, but she was right. He did know her. And that wasn't why. It was a big deal. He knew she believed that. Oh he knew it didn't have to be, it didn't have to rule her life at all. But it was the fact that she hadn't acknowledged it, hadn't dealt with it, was blowing on that flute as hard as he possibly could...that was what honestly was giving this disease power. Her final question hit him awkwardly, actually, as it hadn't been her little self at all. "Why don't you tell me?" He said, in a meek attempt to protect their younger selves. "And I'm not here to pity you. Or bother you. It doesn't mean nothing, and it is a big deal, Annie, but not in the way most people would mean. In not acknowledging it, that is the big deal!" Both of his hands were up. "I know I'm not helping you, not right now, so help me too, Annie! Help me understand what it is I can do!" |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 8 2009, 10:34 AM Post #12 |
|
There was no one, absolutely no one, who knew. Her little self had just gotten out the fact that she was sick, and somehow, Parker had put things together. And it was really actually making her even more furious. "Why would I?" Her voice was pure ice. "Why would I feel the need to tell you?" He was very nearly lecturing her about it, and she was a little taken aback at that. "It's not a big deal. I don't feel the need to shout out to the world that I'm sick, so stop trying to act like my shrink." "I don't need your help." And with that? She turned, giving up on the idea that he was going to give her her flute back, and stormed out of the study, heading into her room instead. She shut that door too, but she didn't really expect it to stop him if he was intending to pursue the conversation. Either way, she climbed into her bed, threw up the covers, and slammed the pillow over her head. She could ignore him better that way. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 9 2009, 09:16 AM Post #13 |
|
The fact that her tone was icy and words were snappish and meant to bruise actually wasn't affecting him the way he figured they were meant to. He wasn't hurt because of what she was saying, he was hurt by what she wasn't saying. "I'm not asking you to shout it out to the wo--" But she was moving again and she was slamming another door shut and this time it was her bedrooms. He left her flute gingerly in the velvet case that still lay opened, not wanting to harm it, and followed again, knowing that she was going to have locked this door as well. Once again he was faced with the choice of simply turning around, but he wasn't going to. He wasn't going to, dammit. Call it stubbornness, call it selfishness, but whatever it was, he wasn't leaving the room. He wasn't leaving her. So he opened that door too, shutting it behind him and spying that she was laying in the bed, pillow over her head. He shook his head in his own anguish and said simply, "I'm not your shrink, and I'm not telling you to shout it out to the world. And I know you don't need me. But I'm here anyways." Yup. Not moving. Stubborn as hell. He said he got it from his mother. "And I'm not leaving, because you are not alone with this. I want to talk to you, Anastasia!" |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 9 2009, 09:30 AM Post #14 |
|
Annie almost thought he was leaving her alone. It was a few seconds before he was bursting into her room as well, and she only turned, keeping the pillow firmly over her ears. She could probably ignore him passably if she wanted to, but he was being...bloody annoying. "And if I don't want you here, as I've made clear, oh, several times now?" The last thing he said though? She sat up, the pillow flopping to her lap as she started at him. "What do you want me to say, Parker? Do you want me to crawl into your lap and cry, and tell you all about it? Tell you what happened? Pretend that by holding me you can make it go all away? Do you want me to tell you that I'm scared, and that it hurts? Do you want me to admit that it's limiting my life, and that being in England is probably going to kill me?" Damn tears. "Do you want to just sit there and tell me that you're there for me when it doesn't bloody make a difference, because shit is going to happen anyways? What's the point, Parker?" Edited by Anastasia Zytsev, Nov 9 2009, 09:31 AM.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 9 2009, 09:42 AM Post #15 |
|
This time, he actually was forced to take in the actual words she was saying. It wasn't just deflection. They weren't words he was meant to be hurt by and leave...they were actual, good questions. What did he want from her? What did he expect her to do? He honestly didn't know. The only thought in his mind when going was the thought that he might be there for her, if she were to need him. The thought that he could support her in some way. He didn't know what supporting her meant. Not yet. He only knew he wanted to. "All of that and none of that." He summarized, just as anxiously, sitting on the end of the bed. "I don't know. You have to help me know. Because right now? I don't know what you need. I don't know what you want from me, because you know what? That's bull shit. It does make a difference. Hope, and support, always makes a difference." He said it fervently and finished sourly, "And let's get one thing straight. I am not going to let you die, or be killed by the damn English weather." |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 9 2009, 09:48 AM Post #16 |
|
It was a purely frustrated sound that came out of Annie's mouth when Parker sat on her bed. She wasn't sure what annoyed her the most; the fact that he had come into her room, into her study, in the first place, or the fact that while in it, he was keeping his distance. She drew her knees to her chest, her expression not softening one bit as he spoke. "I don't have to help you know anything. It's not any of your business. I don't need anything, I don't want anything from you. And really? Hope and support making a difference? How would you know?" His sour comment at the end just made her roll her eyes, and answer snarkily, "Oh really? Because the last time I checked, there was no cure." Edited by Anastasia Zytsev, Nov 9 2009, 09:48 AM.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 9 2009, 10:28 AM Post #17 |
|
The frustration and anger pouring out of her was honestly mirrored in his own expression and his own actions. Parker had to figure out a better way to get what he was thinking out of him, because he was getting so tied up in the words and what he was saying that what he meant was not coming out right. It wasn't coming out right at all, and she was grabbing every technicality he spilled. "My mother." Yes, it was silly, but honestly, he didn't care about being a "momma's boy." He was one. He knew that and he honestly didn't care. He shrugged and said, "Call it what you want, but she told me that, and I believe her." After what she'd gone through? Yes. He believed that. His own knuckles were gripping the end of the bed post hard enough to turn white, but his expression was honestly just one of anguish. "That doesn't mean you have to turn over and let it restrict you, Annie. It doesn't. I'm not going to let you just give up, okay?" |
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 9 2009, 10:46 AM Post #18 |
|
When Annie got a good look at how hard he was holding her bed and the expression on his face further than the words she was hearing, she had to look away. That was hurting her more than the words she was saying. And then he pulled the mother card. She couldn't argue with that, no matter how much she wanted to. Still, she did manage to respond in a muttered, clenched, "It's not the same." Because, no, no it wasn't. The concept, she supposed, could extend, but she didn't believe it at all. Hope and support? That was what she was always writing. Didn't that mean she believed in it as a base level? Yeah. But she didn't want or need this. Not right now. Probably not ever. She snapped at his last statement, however, and she shouted at him, "I do whatever the bloody hell I want to, and you have no place to tell me that you aren't going to let me do something! You're not my father, nor my husband. You are just a friend, Parker, and that is not good enough. You cannot 'not let me' do anything!" |
|
| |
|
|
|
| Parker Faye | Nov 9 2009, 08:27 PM Post #19 |
|
It was the last remark that honestly got to him, because he simply shrugged to her clenched comment. Was it exactly the same? No, it wasn't, he knew that. But it didn't matter. He firmly believed that if someone was supported, if they allowed themselves to hope...this was Annie, she could have anything she wanted. And the thing was he really believed that. When she shouted, he winced again and narrowed his eyes. "Great then. Just a friend. Want to define what it is I'm allowed to do? Am I allowed to be worried? Take you to the hospital if something happens-- or is it more just that I'm allowed to give you presents on your birthday? Or just the card?" He bit his lip, frustrated. "What is good enough for you?" He still didn't pull back, and he didn't move. His jaw was set, and he was frustrated beyond his own comprehension. Because like it or not, like what he said or not... that one? That one hurt. "Just a friend". He'd never been so angry in all of his life to hear that. He'd said it a few times himself, and honestly? He'd never expected it to feel that way. It actually stung, to be relegated to that "status". Edited by Parker Faye, Nov 9 2009, 08:29 PM.
|
|
we were right to carry on, to carry on {even when they said we'd be undone} take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong {even when the worst is yet to come} & when tomorrow comes, we'll have shown everyone... what they can | |
|
|
|
| Anastasia Zytsev | Nov 9 2009, 08:34 PM Post #20 |
|
Annie knew she had finally gotten to him when his tone turned more sarcastic, and he winced. She really wasn't sure why her 'just a friend' comment got to him exactly, because he was the one that left, and it was the truth to her. Did she absolutely adore the time they spent together? Yes. Were they together then? No. So instead of lowering to the status of 'ex' or whatever the hell it was, she'd said friend. And apparently, it still hurt him. His response wasn't any nicer. What was good enough for her? Annie hated fighting. Hated it. It made her feel sick, it made her upset, and she couldn't help herself; she'd started crying again. Silently, defiantly ignoring the droplets sliding down her cheeks, but it was there nonetheless. She always had her emotions on her face, her heart on her sleeve. This was no different. She knew she was lashing out. She knew she hoped on a base level that he would just get fed up and leave. But he wasn't. "No, I don't." She just answered, her voice barely audible. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Cascades Hotel and Spa - London · Next Topic » |
