[this will all fall down]

Title: This Will All Fall Down

Author: rowan

Summary: matchbox slash.

Note: Rob and Paul?!!!

Disclaimer: I have this on tape. I’ll send you a copy if you ask.

Quote: “It won’t be the last heart that you break…”

Rob sat, bathed in the eerie blue glow, intent on the screen in front of him. His eyes darted back and forth, practically inhaling the words.

Outside, a storm raged. The clouds released rain in waves, water droplets slamming onto the roof. The wind hurled leaves and debris against the side of the house. The leaves against the windowpanes created an odd sort of music.

Dear Rob,

I have been a huge fan of yours ever since Tabitha's Secret.

matchbox twenty is one of my favourite bands.

I am writing to thank you for sharing your music with us.

I find myself inspired by your words and your talent.

I truly love you.

-Yours,

Sara

Toronto, Canada

He didn't stop to reply. He couldn't possibly answer the hundreds of e-mails that had amassed during the second part of the mad season tour. Calling a different city home for 24 or 48 hours at a time. Worse than any army brat life could be. He felt that if he couldn't answer them all he wouldn't answer any. It seemed fair. Adam was convinced he could answer all of his. Hell, Adam answered them as they were received. The guitarist was basically attached to his laptop while the band was on the road. Now that they had a few weeks off before the third part of the tour started in Australia, Rob played catch up. Even if he wasn’t replying, he felt it meant something that he at least read them.

Rob clicked NEXT.

dear rob,

i luv matchbox twenty. u r my favorite band. u r cute 2.

& u sing really well. I hope i can come 2 ur concert the next time u come 2 jolliet. please tell adam that i will

bring him a doll head if i get 2 come.

luv mandy

That one made him smile. He totaled up the number of doll’s heads Adam had been promised at around ten thousand.

‘Maybe I should start some weird collection. See how much fucking stuff I get.’

NEXT.

ROB,

MY FRIEND JOHN AND I MADE A BET. HE SAID THAT

THERE WAS NO WAY YOU'D REPLY TO THIS. WE BET

TWENTY DOLLARS. PLEASE HELP ME WIN. I LOVE MB20.

YOU FUCKING ROCK!!!

-CASSIE

‘Sorry, Cass, you're out twenty. And what’s up with all the caps?’

Rob was distracted from his task by the smell of cigarette smoke. He heard the soft patter of feet on the hardwood floor behind him.

“Why do you even bother to read those? We both know you're not even trying to answer them.”

“They interest me, babe. You know that,” he said without turning around.

A familiar hand came to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his face towards it, touching it with his cheek.

“Are these any different from the hundred you read last night?”

“Nope.” He clicked NEXT.

“I think you do it for the ego boost,” Paul teased.

“Well I am ‘truly loved’ and I do ‘fucking rock’.”

“I could have told you that,” he said as he lent and pressed his lips to the space on Rob neck just where a stylist had clipped his dusty-brown curls.

An explosion of thunder rattled the house. Rob shivered from the kiss and the noise. Far off down the street a car alarm shrieked, demanding attention from the sleeping Atlanta suburb.

Paul's tongue followed a path along Rob's neck, up towards his right ear.

“Let me help you find something better to do,” he whispered against Rob's skin.

A grin spread across Rob's face. “You think you’re so slick. I know you’re only using me for sex.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

"Let me answer one more." Rob clicked NEXT. Paul leaned over his shoulder to read the message.

Hey babe,

I know you're answering your mail now. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And I miss you.

-Mari

PS. Say hello to Paul for me.

"That's sweet," Paul said.

"Yeah." They were quiet for a while. A streak of lightening crashed through the sky, lighting the room.

Paul spun the rolling desk chair around so that Rob was facing him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Rob’s, slipping his tongue just past Rob’s teeth. He pulled back and stood. He winked at Rob as he brought the smoldering cigarette to his mouth. He exhaled and the smoke curled around his face, glowing blue in the light.

Rob gave a half smile and turned in the chair, back to the computer’s shine. He logged off and shut down the computer. The room plunged into darkness, lit now only by a brilliant flash of lightening.

He stood up and leaned to kiss Paul on the forehead.

“Come downstairs with me. I‘m hungry.” He stole Paul’s cigarette, finished it with one drag, and put it out in the ashtray on the desk. He blew the smoke in Paul’s direction and left the room, Paul trailing behind him.

In the kitchen, Rob rummaged in the oak cabinets that crowded the large space, searching for an elusive box of microwave-able popcorn. Paul sat on the kitchen island, his legs dangling over the side. One foot tapped a jilting rhythm into the oak.

“Baby?” Rob said, without looking up from his rummaging.

“Hmm?” Paul asked.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His foot tapped a little faster.

Rob walked to the island, reached out and grabbed Paul’s leg by the calf. He leaned in and kissed Paul quickly on the lips.

“Stop that.”

“Oh.”

Rob went back to the cabinets. After about five minutes, he realized he was looking in the same cabinets he’d just checked. He stood up and looked at Paul. “I can’t find the popcorn.”

“You probably don’t have any. You two are never here long enough to go grocery shopping.”

“I know we’re never here. Which is why I assumed any food we did manage to buy would still be here, since no one was here to eat it.”

Paul half-smiled at Rob. Rob turned to open the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. He pulled two Dos Equis from a drawer at the bottom. He positioned himself at the kitchen-island, between Paul’s thighs. He flipped the top off, and took a pull of the cold amber liquid.

“No food, but you have beer? Do know what that says about you?”

“It says that I’ve attained the rock-and-roll-super-star-lifestyle,” Rob answered, deadpan.

Paul laughed at Rob and gave him another quick kiss on cool ale-y lips.

“You can’t have that lifestyle and be married,” he said with a short laugh; a laugh that died on his lips when he saw a dark cloud pass through Rob’s light-blue eyes. Paul always forgot that he wasn’t supposed to talk about her. He was about to apologize when Rob cut him off with a kiss. His soft lips pressed at Paul’s until he parted them, allowing Rob’s tongue to dart into his mouth. Their tongues danced. Rob tasted cigarettes and beer and the peppermints Paul ate constantly. Paul tasted the evidence of Rob’s Altoid addiction. Paul’s heart began racing in his chest at Rob’s light touch and intense kiss. Rob broke the kiss and dragged his tongue along Paul's jaw line, up to his ear. He sucked the soft lobe into his mouth, tonguing the tiny gold hoop that pierced the flesh there. Blood began flooding into Paul’s groin. A quiet moan escaped his open mouth. When Rob buried his face in the crook of Paul's slender neck, he sighed and closed his eyes. Rob pulled away. Paul opened his eyes and stared into Rob’s gaze.

“I can have whatever I want,” he said quietly.

Paul saw a mischievous sparkle in the blue depths of his eyes.

“Really,” he asked when he found his voice. Rob gave small nod and took another pull from the damp bottle.

“And what do you want?” Paul asked in a low voice.

Rob leaned in until his lips just brushed Paul’s sending a short thrill through his body. “Pizza.”

Paul sighed in frustration and relief. ‘At least he’s not mad at me.’

“You are seriously crazy. You know this right?” He pushed Rob back and slid down off the counter.

“Not crazy,” Rob said as he finished his beer. “Hungry.”

Paul went into the living room with Rob following behind. He dropped onto the sofa and found the cordless phone buried in the cushions.

“Call Pizza Hut.”

Rob took the phone from Paul and stared at it. After a minute he dropped it back onto the couch. “Never mind. It’s raining too hard to make someone bring me food.”

“I thought rock & roll superstars weren’t supposed to care about other people.”

The tone of Paul’s voice told Rob that he wasn’t joking anymore. He was familiar with Paul’s drastic mood-shifts. He knew the best thing to do was to stay calm and they could talk it out. Rob sat on the sofa next to Paul, their legs touching at the thigh. His right arm rested on Paul’s leg. They sat that way, not speaking, listening to the storm rage outside.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Paul started to deflect the question to avoid a confrontation but changed his mind at the last and answered truthfully, “This doesn't feel right anymore.”

“What?” He asked even though he already knew.

“You. Me. Her. This,” he said quietly, gesturing to the small gold band on Rob’s left ring finger.

‘Since when?’ Rob thought. He knew better than to actually say it. He wished he still had that cigarette.

Paul continued when Rob didn’t respond. “This should have ended when you met her. It was supposed to.”

"Paul," he said.

"What Rob?"

"Don't say that. You know this is complicated." Rob stood up and walked across the room. He walked back and sat down again.

"Complicated for who?" Paul mumbled under his breath.

Rob stared into his lap, unsure of what to say.

"It's so easy to pretend you're not married. When you look me in the eye and kiss me, I can forget anyone else exists. But then you touch me, and I feel your wedding ring against my skin. And every time I say her name your eyes get dark and you get quiet and you don't look me in the eye anymore."

Rob turned on the sofa. He tentatively placed one hand on Paul's back. "Paul... I'm sorry. But I don't know what to do. I'm just..." He dropped his hand, but didn't turn away. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. You just have to change it; make it better."

"I don't know how,” he said shortly. He really needed a cigarette.

Paul took a short breath and held it to keep himself from crying. He thought he knew how this would end. "You have to give one of us up. It's not fair." His heart just didn't want it to be him, and at the same time he hoped it was.

Rob was floored. "I have to choose?"

Paul didn't answer. He looked down at the carpet, staring at his feet.

"Baby?"

Paul knew his heart was melting. "No," his voice was very low and sad. "You don't have to make that choice."

Rob sighed. A wisp of hope flittered through his dark eyes.

Paul stood and turned to face Rob. He moved close and Rob opened his legs to let Paul stand between them. He looked up at Paul's stressed face. Paul stroked Rob's hair back from his face. He leaned down pressed his lips to Rob's. He stood up; a sad smile flittered across his face.

"I choose me."

Paul turned and walked quickly from the room. Rob heard a door slam upstairs. He sat in the dark listening to the rain. After he was sure he wasn't going to cry, he rummaged in the sofa to find the phone. He felt like he was on autopilot as he dialed the New York area code and those seven familiar digits. The electronic ring shrieked twice before a soft Spanish accent answered.

"Mari, I got your message. I miss you too. When are you coming home?"

Fin. December 1, 2000.

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