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 Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 10:28 pm
july 1st
Having to read both Jan and Otto bullshit in one day was enough, but knowing Maebe suffered through it was worse by far. Especially because Jan had really dug into her this time. He rubbed his face wearily and wished the last hour of work went by faster, sending her sporadic DMs in between tasks and requesting something of Rep that he thankfully granted.
At last he hit The Red Bull, tired and ready to challenge Maebe to those 10 shots.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 10:34 pm
july 2nd
Don't type it. Don't type it. Sober Dawson wouldn't type this. But sober Dawson isn't here is he?
u ever have anyiken dieon u mahbe
That's the real problem with getting drunk: there's a 75-25% chance he'll end up mulling over his family again. It's all he can think about as he sprawls over the keyboard with his thumbs and clumsily tries to put words to his thoughts. He's never told anyone about their deaths; he's hoped the silence would eventually quiet them.
But then he remembers the house again, the ghosts that tugged and scraped and sang amazing grace, how sweet the sound--
sureal, he types at the end, like it's all a fantasy. God. God. He wants that book put down, that nightmare to end. He doesn't want to fear imagining the pressure of corpses over him every night. He doesn't want to panic about the sole source of light in his room any time it flickers. He wants some God damn peace, hasn't he earned it yet?
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 11:32 pm
july 1st
She was sure he would never be able to catch up to her. She'd come to the bar with way too much of the petty cash she'd hoarded up since her first paycheck. She'd been wasting it away on drink after drink, giving Rep quite a productive evening - and she figured Dawson was about to make it twice as good for the bar, when he arrived.
But he'd taken too long, and Maebe had gone too far, too fast. When he got there, she was already drunk, and her hair was covered in a napkin, like a bonnet.
Jan's comment had dove right into the very heart of her insecurity. And it was Ameri- no, the clone that had defended her. She'd drowned her sorrows in alcohol too quickly, in a last ditch effort to forget everything. Even her own name.
But she knew her name. No drink or drug could take that away from her.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 11:49 pm
july 2
He asks her if she's ever seen anyone die, and she realizes the memories are sluggish and hard to catch a hold of, and for that she's grateful. Just the mention of dying should have triggered something in her, but she hadn't felt the pain then, and she couldn't feel it now.
They wheeled her out on a gurney, and her father didn't even cover Maebe's eyes. He told her it was important to watch. Important to feel. Important to remember.
She decided to do none of these things.
They carried him out in a body bag, and the police kept asking her questions. Did he rape you? Was your living here consensual? Do you have any relatives we could contact? She needed to tell them the truth about why they'd found a minor sleeping naked in the bed of the fifty year old man who'd just had a heart attack. They told her it was important to be honest. Important to tell them everything. Important to get her home.
She decided to do none of these things, and slipped out the back with Henry's wallet and car keys before the officer returned with a blanket.
Yes. She replies. I've dealt with death. It sucks.
She wishes she could say more. She wishes she could feel anything. She wishes that she could make him understand the only death she couldn't risk witnessing, was his.
She decides to do none of these things.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 7:57 am
july 1st
He took in the image and regretted snorting with laughter. Getting that smashed without him wasn't a good sign.
"You was supposed t'wait fer me," Dawson chided her gently as he took a seat next to her. "How far in ya get?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 8:12 am
july 2nd
im srry
u shudk have good thkngs
And she should. God, if anyone had earned the right to something good of their own, it was Maebe--and he didn't even know the whole of her life. Nor did even being piss drunk was enough to stop the aches of empathy he always suffered from when it came to people. They didn't always mean to, but they squeezed and squeezed, and the blood rushed out eagerly to paint them a better picture.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 7:47 pm
july 1st
"I did not," She slurred out, tying her bonnet tighter over her head. "At any point, like, in, ever, say that I was going to be- wait for you, that is a lie." She pouted her lips with over-exaggerated frustration, and then slowly - very slowly - slid one of the shots she still had waiting in front of her over to him. She slid it over with one finger, and she looked too determined to do so without spilling a drop.
Several long seconds later, she waved her hand triumphantly at it - and knocked it off of the table completely.
"Okay but that wasn't my fault."
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 7:51 pm
july 2ndMaebe looked at the mistyped words for a moment to try and figure them out, and immediately she felt her answer rising up like bile. I deserve nothing. I deserve terrible things. I deserve-All she was going to do was get him mad, and she did not want to see Dawson drunk, and mad. That was a lie, she'd have killed to see it, as long as he wasn't mad at her. She had to find an answer that wasn't going to sound negative. Find the silver linings, Maebe. Find them to make him happy. It's okay. It was a long time ago. I care more about who I've got now than who I had then.
I do have good things. I have you.Just try and argue with her now, Dawson Grace. She was prepared with an arsenal of positivity, and she was ready to fire.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 8:12 pm
july 1st
Dawson was mildly alarmed at her state and somehow, miraculously, managed to catch the shot glass before it hit the ground. Just not before most of it had sloshed out.
"I'ma big boy, lemme handle my own glasses," he joked as he mopped up the mess with some napkins, hoping Rep hadn't seen. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess and get kicked out or something. "You stay good, we can do some karaoke. Tha' sound good?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 8:26 pm
july 2nd
Something better, then, he argued, because he didn't feel like good things right now; hell, he barely felt good. He sank into the can until there was nothing left and scowled at her denial, and a rare flare of anger rose up in him. Not at Maebe, but at himself. For deciding to bring it up, for ignoring his better senses in a need to self-pity aloud, for having something this pathetic at all.
(Sometimes he wished he was just things. Not people, not thinking, less feeling, less sensitive. He envied his tools for having an exact purpose and varied uses.)
What? she prompted him, and the phone started to tremble in his hand because now he couldn't stop, now he had to ******** let it out and ruin what could've been a perfectly stupid drunk conversation night. Funny how reversed their positions were, how much it hurt to admit.
fickn someoemb whode love u the way j can't for soak stuodopid ******** esason
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 9:46 pm
july 1st
She thought way too long and hard about it, before shrugging noncommittally. "Suuure. I have a shitty voice. Your ears will bleed. Sounds like a good time, yeah. Let's make some mistakes tonight."
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 9:51 pm
july 2ndBut of course he tried to argue anyway. She snapped back at him with ease, having prepared for it. He was the very best thing she could have ever imagined coming into her life; even if he refused to come all the way in- "God, damnit, Dawson." Maebe might have prepared herself for an argument, but she couldn't have been prepared for that. How was she supposed to continue acting like he was a great guy, if all she wanted to do was yell and scream and tell him he was an idiot for not even giving her a chance? She gripped her phone tightly, pinched her face up until it hurt, and then tried zen breathing in order to calm it all back down again. She was determined. He wasn't going to make her break this time. The heart wants what it wants, Dawson.
You're still the best thing there is. Even if I'm not.Damn it. DAMN IT. She regretted it as soon as she'd sent it because she KNEW this was just going to turn into a pity party. She threw her phone at her pillow, and then used a second one to bury her face in and scream.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 10:16 pm
july 1st
Dawson made a dismissive noise but still said, "Lemme get prepped fer the worst then." Just in case.
His goal wasn't the same as Maebe's; tommorow, he'd get smashed as hell since it was his day off. But for now, he ordered just enough to get him nice and tipsy, warm and relaxed and a bit less restrained with his motions and emotions. Pretty girl in one arm, microphone in another--God bless karaoke and God bless Rep and Harrison for an easy access bar.
And God bless Guns n' Roses for giving him a song like "Sweet Child O' Mine" to roar enthusiastically, the words correct if slurred throughout. Dawson's honey toasted Southern burr masked a surprisingly decent singing voice.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 10:26 pm
july 2nd
Apologizing felt like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. He knew Maebe. He knew, even as drunk as he was, that if he had tried this face to face, she would have torn him a new one just like she had over the clone. Like a coward, he only had the courage to say it alone and over the phone, but he had to get it out there, he had to somehow let her know that if he could change something about himself, he'd at least make that worthy. What was a human being if they didn't have or understand or even feel romance, right?
He could have mopped himself up if Maebe hadn't added that last line. The words erupted out of him without warning.
god fucjsing
dont start thst
Because that told him he had done it wrong yet again. That she thought somehow it might be through her own fault. And of course, Dawson couldn't allow the pity party to double up--definitely not if it was going to be about how she wasn't enough or right or some bullshit like that.
He grew lightheaded midway through typing something and set the phone aside as his stomach took a turn for the worse. Maybe he had overdone it that night. Or maybe the surge of emotion had affected him a little too strongly. God, <********> that...Where the was weapon bond preventing that sort of s**t to your health when you needed it?
< I cannot fix stupid, > Syn echoed a past thought.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 11:07 pm
july 1stShe wouldn't have kareoke'd if she hadn't been that level of intoxicated, and in the end, it worked out in his favor. She'd kept picking Madonna songs because they were the easiest to ******** up without looking like a total idiot, and because there was no way he wasn't going to get through the night without listening to her croon Like a virgin at him. It was just as terrible as he could have imagined, and more. When Dawson sang, Maebe found herself intoxicated on more than just the liquor. Despite his sweet innocence, she blamed him for choosing a song so perfect for him. She blamed him for having a voice that made her heart thud with desire. She blamed him for everything except for the alcohol, to which she put the blame solely on herself. She could feel it happening, bubbly and warm and entirely out of her control, when his voice made her want to sing. She didn't know the words, but she hummed out her own while her head rested on her arm, against the table. She hummed it to the tune of his own song, as he belted away and drowned her out safely. "Dawson Grace, I'm in love with you." It didn't fit the tune at all, and ended up hilariously awkward. She grinned, because she was the only one who'd know how bad it really was.
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