Notes: The title belongs to Incubus, and the lyrics belong to Guster, No Doubt, Tori Amos, Barenaked Ladies, Newsboys, Queen, and Van Morrison respectively. Huge thanks to witchy, who posed a challenge on the TWoP fic thread that turned this nagging little bunny of an idea into a whole family of bunnies.
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you�ve wasted every moment of your saturdays
He listened to his watch tick as he sat alone in his office, and each second was wasted time.
His hand crept towards the phone, once, again, and on the third try he picked it up and slammed it back down, just to break the monotony of the ticking clock.
Feet on his desk, eyes closed as he tipped back, and he imagined it was a scene she had witnessed thousands of times. But now there was only the memory of her, of their harsh words, his unwitting confession.
He sat alone and listened to his seconds being stolen away.
you came up with the breeze on sunday morning
He didn�t mean to glance at the photo, but eyes betray.
�Heard it didn�t go well,� was all Leo said in response, and there was a world of meaning there that he didn�t want to explore. Leo always had known him too well. The conversation moved on, and his eyes stayed where they were told, but the same couldn�t be said for his mind.
Amazing, he had said that night, and it was true, now more than ever. But even his pride felt like a betrayal.
She was no longer his to be proud of.
Maybe she never had been.
tell me why i don�t like mondays
He caught himself humming that morning on the way to work, later caught his fingers tapping an unfamiliar rhythm against his keyboard.
He didn�t remember until that night where the song had come from, and when he did it hurt, because a part of him could still hear the background noise of that roadside caf�, could still smell a hint of dry rub.
So many moments, innocuous steps on the road of becoming who he was, and they towered and piled in the corners of his office.
�I don�t like Mondays,� he whispered to himself, and his smile was bitter.
drove downtown in the rain, 9:30 on a tuesday night
He stood dripping on her carpet, and was a little surprised that she had let him in at all.
Her eyes were guarded as she leaned uneasily on the doorframe, and he missed her, even now standing before her.
His hands spread out in front of him, a useless gesture. An offering, a reassurance? There was nothing left to offer her, because she already possessed so much of him, and nothing to reassure her about, because that was not in his power. So he offered all he could afford to give.
Her eyes didn�t soften as she accepted the job.
wednesday�s title: �avoid me�
Half the day he was gone, and his eyes didn�t have to follow her.
But later he watched her, and she looked through him, absorbed in her newfound duties, utterly oblivious to his gaze on her.
Until she was getting ready to leave, and she glanced up to catch his glance, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
He could have made himself believe that the slight flush of pink across her cheeks was just a reflection of her red coat on her skin, but he decided it wasn�t worth the effort of lying to himself anymore.
and then on thursday, my luck had changed
He heard the footsteps, held his breath.
Fool, his mind said, and he steeled himself for the storm. But the door opened and he found only sadness there, acceptance, and further down, deep in the blue eyes he had come to know so well, a hope that he hadn�t noticed was missing.
�A new anniversary,� he offered by way of explanation. �One that hopefully won�t be followed by you leaving.�
Neither of them noticed the flowers slip from her hands, but he discovered that her hair smelled like them, and her skin felt like their soft petals against his lips.
on a friday evening when the sun goes down
He was afraid he would wake to discover that he�d fallen into another dream, but she was warm and undeniable by his side.
Over dinner, the words had been said, the bitterness, the hurt, the years of longing. There had been tears, moments when he feared she would stand and leave and never return.
She didn�t, though, because she had left once, and it had broken both of them. It was a fragile mending that held them together now, but lasting.
He lay awake listening to the seconds tick by, finally realizing that they were not being taken, but given.