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[ Northern
Lights ] AUTHOR:
Isabelle Kennedy FEEDBACK: [email protected] WEBPAGE: http://www.geocities.com/retroeighties CATEGORY:
Holly/Dan, Holly/Patrick, AU SPOILERS:
General RATING: NC-17 DISCLAIMER:
All characters are the property of the BBC, Kelsey, Huggett, Masters &
related companies. No copyright infringement intended. Archive anywhere; just
drop me a line first. SUMMARY: She
was inexplicably drawn to him, unable to resist. It wasn't
snowing, but it should have been. She rises from
the bed slowly and slips on his dressing gown, tightening the waist and
rolling up the sleeves as she always does. Padding down the chilly hallway,
she fills the kettle and puts two slices of bread in the toaster. She
performs these actions almost every morning, but she never feels entirely
comfortable being here. It is easier at her house, but he prefers to stay at
his and, most of the time, she doesn't have the strength to protest. As she surveys
the early morning grey of the outside world, she feels two arms slide around
her waist and smiles as he lightly plants a kiss upon her neck. "What are
you doing up?" she asks curiously. He shrugs.
"The bed felt empty without you." She is almost
touched by his words, but they are slightly too smooth, too practiced. "What
time does your shift start?" he asks over the hissing of the kettle. "Seven,"
she replies, twisting out of his embrace and filling the percolator with hot
water. "What about you?" "I don't
have to been in until nine." She already
knew that. "Anyone
would think that critical care managers don't do any work," she teases,
filling the two mugs with coffee. He picks up
the nearest mug. "We don't." * They eat
breakfast in silence, then she returns upstairs,
leaving him reading the newspaper. She picks up her discarded clothes as she
enters the bedroom, placing them neatly in the laundry bin. Then, sitting on
the bed, she opens the wardrobe door with her foot and gazes at the contents.
She keeps several changes of clothes at his house; just enough to relieve the
necessity of returning home in the morning. Eventually dragging out a pair of
black trousers and a pink cardigan, she places them in her arms and then
roots in the dresser for underwear, which she balances on top of the pile. Thirty minutes
later, she stands at the front door, emptying out the contents of her bag in
a futile search for her car keys. He ambles up, still not dressed, dangling
the keys from his index finger. Frowning, she snatches them from his hand and
kisses his cheek quickly, glancing at her watch. Then she
smiles as he grasps her waist and pulls her into a kiss, vaguely noticing
that he tastes of coffee and something that she can't identify. Reluctantly
moving away, she opens the door and places a final kiss on his lips. "See you
later," Dan calls as she pulls the door shut behind her. * As she drives
into work, she twists the tuner, desperately trying to find a decent station.
Finally abandoning her search, she switches the radio off and contemplates
the weather. During the long, dull months of February, it seems as though
summer won't ever arrive. She had resigned
herself to weeks of cold, wet and windy days when six-thirty in the morning
felt like the middle of the night. It is times
like these when she thinks seriously about emigrating. MSF sounds appealing
and she's heard that hot places like Australia need doctors. Perhaps, like
Sean, she could just up and leave; she didn't think many people would care if
she went. She shakes her head quickly to clear it of the self-pity that
threatens to engulf her, then drives into the
hospital car park. There aren't
many people there at a Hunching her
shoulders, she enters the empty staffroom and drops her bag on the nearest
chair. The blinds are closed and the sink is full; the staff
on night shifts get their revenge by leaving the crockery unwashed for
the people who are lucky enough to keep relatively social hours. Sighing, she
sits heavily on the sofa, next to her bag and closes her eyes. The banging of
the blinds as someone opens the door shatters the peace of the room. Looking
up, she frowns as Patrick strides over to the sink and then curses at the
lack of mugs. "Can't
you be a bit quieter?" she asks sharply. "No. Why
are there no mugs?" She rolls her
eyes. "Because no-one's washed up. Why don't you?" "I didn't
use them." "Well,
just think of it as your good deed for the year." He makes a
face at her. "What's wrong with you?" "Nothing." "Dan not
let you sleep last night?" She ignores
his attempts to bait her. "Perhaps I wouldn't let him." Patrick snorts
but says nothing. She closes her eyes again, listening to him crash and
clatter at the sink. Eventually the noise ceases and she hears him walk
towards the door. Opening her eyes as he stops in front of her, she then
looks up in surprise when he places a warm mug of coffee in her hands. "Patrick..." He smiles
slightly. "Don't let it get around." "They
wouldn't believe me," she replies as he picks up his own mug and exits
the room. * Later that
day, she enters the staffroom and, groaning slightly, slips off her shoes and
curls up in an armchair. As she expects, Dan walks in several minutes later,
carrying a packet of sandwiches and bends down to kiss her. After a minute,
she pushes him away, muttering about privacy and decorum. He snaps her
fingers. "Before I forget, I've got a meeting with the chairman and he
wants to talk over dinner, so I'm not sure when I'll be home. But you've got
keys, let yourself in and I'll see you whenever." She pauses.
"I think I'm going to go home tonight. I've got stuff to do and I really
need to catch up on sleep." "Oh,
okay." She reaches
out to break off a corner of his sandwich and he playfully bats her hand
away, then hands her the whole triangle. She accepts it
with a wry smile. * Wearily, she
leans against the nurse's station, watching people hurry about, intent on
their duties. She stares at the clock, mentally counts off the minutes, when
the doors fly open. "Holly,"
Chloe calls. "Max needs your help in resus." "What
about Patrick? I'm going home in a minute." She shakes her
head. "It's a paeds case. Max wanted you." "Fine,"
she sighs and follows Chloe into resus. "What it
is, Max?" she asks, tugging on a pair of gloves and an apron. "RTA.
Four year old versus a car," he replies. "It doesn't look good.
Serious head injury, possibly an extradural haemorrhage..." "What's
her BP?" she enquires, moving to the figure on the trolley. * Numbly, she
rips off her bloody gloves and apron, throwing them into the disposal bin.
She can hear Max call her name, but chooses to ignore him as she stalks away. Walking
unsteadily along the corridor, she pauses outside his office, her hand
resting upon the door handle. Then she stumbles backwards as the door opens
suddenly and he steps outside, a blue file in his hand. She sighs in relief,
reaching out for him. "Dan, I
need to talk to you..." He runs his
hand down her arm, resting his fingers briefly on her wrist. "Can it
wait? Only I've got this dinner with..." "No, not
really." "Look,
Holly," he starts, glancing at his watch and running a hand through his
hair. "I'm running late. Whatever it is, can't we talk about it
later?" She shrugs
sullenly. "Don't bother." "Holly,
if I had time to talk now, I would, I promise," he pleads, holding out
his free hand in apology. "I'm sorry." Then he leans
in to kiss her cheek, but she flinches and moves away. "Fine,"
he says, while she remains silent. "I'll speak to you later." She spins on
her heel and walks away so that he doesn't see her tears. * Hunting
frantically through her locker, she throws random items into her bag. "Can't
wait to get home, Holly?" Patrick asks smugly. "I bet Dan's got an
exciting evening planned..." She slowly
turns to face him and he halts, seeing the tearstains on her face. "Holly..." "Just
fuck off, Patrick." Then she
swings her bag over her shoulder and strides out of the door. She had not
gone more than a dozen steps when he grabs her wrist, spinning her around to
face him. "What the
hell was that about?" She struggles
in his grasp. "Let me go, Patrick." "I'll let
you go when you tell me what's wrong." "It's got
nothing to do with you," she snaps. "Who
then?" She doesn't
answer. "Is it
Dan?" She simply
glares at him. "Holly,
is it Dan?" he asks again, louder this time. Twisting her
head away from his penetrating gaze, she is silent. His free hand grips her
jaw painfully, forcing her to look at him, even as she struggles to turn
away. "I
thought so." * She follows
him to his door, waiting as he slides the key into the lock and then swings
the door shut behind them. Then, wordlessly, he pushes her against the wall,
his mouth hard upon hers. Her hands rise to grip his shoulders tightly,
pulling him closer. She feels something digging into the small of her back,
but she doesn't care. They fall onto
his bed, naked now, and he pins her arms above her head, nudging her legs
apart with his knee. She can't touch him, even though she desperately wants
to, can feel his cock hard against her thigh. She can only lie still as his
fingers edge between her legs, inside her, over her clit. Soon she comes hard
against his hand, arching her hips up into his palm. Then he kisses her, firm
and quick as he slides his cock inside her, stretching her and she remembers
how it used to feel. His hands slip to her lower back and he lifts her
against him; she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her
as they move together. His hand
drifts down to her clit again and he strokes it gently with his thumb as he
drives into her. Only minutes later, she is panting his name and clutching
his shoulders as she comes for the second time. Then, tightening his grip on
her wrists, he comes too, pushing even deeper insider her. Afterwards, his
head drops onto her chest and she wraps her arms around him as they catch
their breath. * She lies in
his bed later, distractedly wishing that she still smoked. It seems
appropriate, somehow, for the situation. This is, quite possibly, the
stupidest thing that she's ever done. Staring up at the ceiling, she inhales
the now faint aroma of sweat and sex that permeates the room. Then he shifts
beside her and she notices, vaguely, that her thighs ache. Waking up
disorientated several hours later, she pushes the tangled sheets aside, then
slides out of the bed and pads to the bathroom. She returns she minutes
later, dressed, although her hair is still damp and plastered to her neck. "Where
are you going?" She jumps
slightly, in the darkness. "Home." "Why?" "Because
I have to." "Oh." "We
probably have to talk." "Yeah." "Patrick,
we have to talk about Dan..." "I'm not
going to say anything." "Okay,"
she says slowly. There is a
pause. "Thank
you." "Did you
really think I would?" he asks, mildly offended. She smiles,
knowing that he can't see her. "I wasn't talking about Dan." * She steps into
her house at dawn and drops her bag heavily on the floor. Out of the corner
of her eye, she sees the light on her answerphone
blinking rapidly. With a sigh, she crosses the floor and stabs at the plastic
button. The sound of Dan's voice fills the room and she feels a wave of guilt
wash over her. "Holly. . . I guess you're not there, but
I'm done with my meeting and wondered if you wanted to come over? I know you
said that you were staying at home tonight, but I... I kinda miss you.
Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye." Groaning
slightly, she sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around herself. With a
start, she realises that she can still smell Patrick's cologne and feel his
hands on her. Staggering to
her feet, she climbs the stairs, unbuttoning her cardigan as she walks.
Reaching the landing, she steps out of her trousers and tosses the clothes
into the laundry bin. She catches a glimpse of her face in the bathroom
mirror, noticing the slight redness on her cheeks from his stubble and closes
her eyes, rubbing them with the heels of her hands. Then she removes her
underwear and gingerly steps into the hot shower. As she stands motionless,
waiting for her body to adjust to the temperature, she reflects on the
previous night. She knows that fucking Patrick was a mistake, but she can't
deny that there is an attraction between them. Still, there is Dan to
consider. How hard can it be to stay away from him? Reaching for
the shampoo, she grimaces. Pretty hard. But it isn't as if she has a choice. When she's
freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, she feels better. She can no
longer feel him on her; the water has washed away the memories of last night.
Sitting at her dressing table, she pulls out a tube of lipstick and twists
off the cap. Pursing her lips and applying the colour, her mind drifts to
Dan. She likes him and knows that he likes her. Perhaps he's even in love
with her, she isn't sure. She knows that she's not in love with him. Then
again, she doesn't know whether she's actually been in love before. She
supposes that it is something a woman should know instinctively and, in that
case, she is certain that she hasn't. * She walks into
the hospital, coat buttoned against the cold and her hands covered by gloves.
The sky has a grey hue that threatens imminent snow and she isn't looking
forward to the drive home. Pulling off her gloves, she collides with someone,
who reaches out their arms to steady her. "Holly,"
Dan exclaims, his hands slipping up to brush her collarbone and cheeks.
"I was... I didn't realise you were in yet." "I
wasn't. I mean, I only just arrived. How was your meeting?" "Oh,"
he murmurs. "I phoned you last night, after it'd finished, but you
weren't in." "I
must've been in the bath," she stammers. "I didn't see the message
until this morning." "Okay." "Do you
want to go out for dinner?" "Tonight?" "Yeah." "I don't
think I can, Holly. It's just that this meeting... it means that I've got a
load of extra work." "Right." He wipes a
hand across his face. "Oh god, Holly, I'm sorry. I know you wanted to
talk and I was caught up in work... Look, we'll go out, okay. This
evening." "No, it's fine," she replies, forcing a smile. "I
didn't need to talk to you, I just wanted to spend
some time with you." "Oh,"
he murmurs, grasping her shoulder and pulling her closer. "I didn't
realise." He kisses her
softly and, automatically, she slides her arms around him. Over his shoulder,
however, she sees Patrick, who raises an eyebrow then turns away. Awkwardly
pushing Dan away, she runs a hand through her hair. "Not
here." "Come to
my office, then," he whispers and she can feel his erection pushing into
her hip. She snakes her
head. "I can't - I've got work and so have you." "Yeah.
Later though." "Maybe." * She lets the
staffroom door bang shut behind her. "Having
fun, Holly?" "Patrick..." He turns from
the sink, holding his hands up. "Only joking. None of my business, I
know." "Yeah,"
she replies, thinking that it might be his business now. "So..."
he begins, exhaling loudly. "Yeah,"
she says again, unable to think of anything else to contribute. "I assume
you want to talk about last night." "I'd
rather pretend it never happened," she responds, only half-joking. "It
wasn't that bad, was it?" "No." "Well, we
write it off as an aberration, then. You were upset and I forgot we weren't
in school anymore." "That
wasn't..." He smiles
coolly. "It's probably better we just leave it at that." * Several weeks
later, though, she finds herself standing outside his house. He opens the
door, looking at her in surprise. She lifts her
head. "You were much easier to stay away from five years ago." They stand in
silence for a moment, until she kisses him awkwardly, balancing on the balls
of her feet. She threads her hands through his hair, desperately pulling him
closer. Slowly, his hands move to brush her shoulders, almost reverently and
then tangle in her hair. They stumble inside, the door slamming shut behind
them. His hand
snakes under her shirt, tugging at the clasp of her bra. But instead she
sinks to her knees in his hallway, unbuttoning his jeans and taking his cock
into her mouth. He strokes her
cheeks, her neck as her tongue swirls around the tip of his cock and her
fingers glide along the base. When she takes him back into her mouth, his
hands slide into her hair. Then, soon, he comes, his fingers pressing against
her scalp tightly, almost painfully. Afterwards, he
pulls her roughly to her feet and presses her into the wall, undoing her
trousers with one hand and sliding his other into her underwear. She arches
against him as he slides his fingers into her, the wetness covering his hand.
As he moves his fingers, she kicks her clothes away from her ankles. This
time, he is the one to slide to his knees, parting her legs with his free
hand and lifting one over his shoulder. His fingers
continue to push in and out of her and he flicks his tongue over her clit,
circling the nub and nipping it lightly with his teeth. She whimpers as she
comes, clutching his hair and shoulders desperately. Then, while she is still
breathing hard, he picks her up and carries her to the bedroom. * The light
streams through the bedroom blinds, casting shadows throughout the room. She
lies awake, her hands tracing invisible patterns on the duvet cover. She
thinks back to a physics class that she took years ago, on astronomy. She
doesn't remember much, but some of it has stayed with her. She knows that the
sun sends out streams of charged particles into space, which are attracted to
the Earth's magnetic force. She knows that their unification produces
brilliant displays of light called aurorae: the aurora borealis in the
northern hemisphere. She also
remembers their name: the Northern Lights. The elements
are inexplicably drawn to each other… unable to resist. That seems to define
their entire relationship. Inexplicable, but inevitable. Capable of producing
spectacular displays, but unfortunately she knows from experience that, like
the elements, they don't complement each other. They annihilate each other. * Several months
later, she sprawls back on his bed, sweeping her hair away from her damp
neck. Lying there for a few minutes, she savours the feel of his hand lightly
stroking her hip. Then, reluctantly, she swings her legs over the side of the
bed and braces her hands on the edge, her back curved. Lazily, he reaches out
and traces tiny circles on her spine. "I've got
to go home," she murmurs, arching her back away from his hand. "Right." "Dan's
taking me out for dinner again," she says awkwardly, pushing herself off
the bed. He closes his
eyes and runs a hand down his face. "Okay." "Yeah. I
said I'd be there for half eight, so... I should probably leave now." He nods,
watching as she heads for the bathroom, retrieving her abandoned clothes as
she went. A few minutes
later, she returns, picking up her bag and kissing his cheek as she leaves,
exiting into the early morning light. * That night,
she lies in Dan's bed, staring at the ceiling. He slides his cock into her
and she winces, not yet wet enough, but he doesn't notice. She can feel his
breath on her neck as he moves inside her and she automatically winds her
legs around his thighs, unable to stop comparing him with Patrick. He moves
his hand down, blindly searching for her clit, but his monotonous rubbing
does nothing for her and she is nowhere near coming. Soon, he
pushes up into her for the final time and then collapses against her. She
strokes his back and he looks up at her. "You
didn't..." "Yeah." "Do you
want me to..." She shakes her
head, wondering why he can't say the words. He nods and rolls back over onto
the mattress. She likes him,
feels comfortable with him, enjoys his company, but they don’t have a spark.
And she wonders how much that spark is worth, whether good sex is worth the
sacrifice. * The next day,
she pauses in the doorway of his office, watching as Dan works industriously.
Shuffling her feet, he looks up and smiles as she enters the room. Pushing
aside his notes, he links his fingers under her chin and studies her as she
slides into a chair opposite him. "What?"
she asks as he focuses his gaze on her. Dan shakes his
head. "Nothing." "I heard
you wanted to see me," she says, crossing her legs. "Yeah." He shuffles
the papers on his desk. "I've got to go away for a few days... the day
after tomorrow actually." She raises an
eyebrow. "Oh?" "Newcastle,"
he replies. "Business. I'll be back at the weekend." "Okay." She pauses.
"Dan, I..." He cuts her
off. "Holly, I've got a lot of work to do, so..." "Right,"
she murmurs, rising from the chair and wondering what he's thinking. * Three days
later, she opens her door to Patrick, noticing absently that the evenings are
becoming longer at last. "I think
he knows something's going on," she says as slides his arms around her
waist and kisses her neck hungrily, backing her into the wall. There is a
pause and then he raises his head. "Dan?" "Yes,"
she replies, rolling her eyes. "He's gone to Newcastle, but I don't know
why." "Perhaps
he's having an affair," he suggests, sliding his palms over her breasts. She pushes him
away. "What?" "Holly, I
was joking. He's probably on some incredibly boring manager course. Anyway,
you're hardly in a position to talk, are you?" he asks, pushing his hips
into hers for emphasis. She releases
her hold on her shirt, relaxing slightly. "Yeah, you're probably
right." "I
know," he whispers, bending down to kiss her again. In his
bedroom, they shed their clothes quickly. Immediately, his hands return to
her breasts, circling the hardened nipples and then taking one into his
mouth. She squirms under his hands and mouth and he drops his free hand to
her lower back, pulling her against him, his cock pressing into her hip. She
slides a hand between their bodies and runs her fingers over it, feeling him
twitch under her touch. He turns her
around and bends her over the bed, spreading her legs and slipping first one,
then two fingers inside her. Moments later, he removes his fingers and she
clutches the bedcovers as he slides his cock into her from behind. He holds
her hips tightly as he drives into her and she braces herself against the
frame of the bed. His hand moves across her hipbone and he circles her clit
with his thumb and forefinger, stroking it firmly. Soon he feels her muscles
clutch his cock as she cries out and he comes too, pushing hard into her.
Then, pulling out, he collapses on the bed, drawing her into his arms. * Later that
evening, she lies on her side, gazing into the near darkness as he tightens
his arms around her waist. "I think
he does know." He groans.
"Holly, if he knew, then you'd know about it." She pauses for
a moment. "Well, he's suspicious." "So?" "Patrick,"
she whines, drawing his name out over several syllables. "I don't want
to hurt him." He snorts.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have started fucking me then." She sits up,
prying his hands from her waist and swinging her legs onto the floor. "Do you
feel guilty," she asks suddenly, surprising him. He answers
honestly. "No." She nods in
the darkness. "Okay." He traces his
finger down the curve of her back. "Do you want to stop?" "This?"
she asks, her head thrown back. He waves his
hand expansively. "This. Everything. Us." "I want
to... I think I should," she shrugs almost imperceptibly. "But I
don't think I can." "Why?" "It's too
much, I don't know what to do." He doesn't
comfort her. * An insistent
ringing breaks through the early morning calm and he opens his eyes, trying
to remember where he is. The sound of the telephone finally filters through
his sleep-addled brain and, without thinking, he
reaches over and picks up the receiver. “Hello?” he
asks gruffly, rubbing his eyes. There is
silence for a moment. “I’m sorry, I think I’ve got the wrong number.” “Dan?” he says
loudly, feeling her stir beside him. “I’m not...” He feels her
nails dig sharply into his forearm and winces. She makes a grab for the
receiver and he reluctantly hands it to her. “Dan, I can
explain...” He sounds
confused. “Holly?” “Yes, I...” “Who was
that?” “Dan...” His voice is
more forceful now. “Was it?” “Yes,” she
murmurs weakly, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Instead, she
hears only the dial tone. * He sits on the
edge of the bed, watching as she paces the room, gesticulating wildly. “How can you
just sit there?” He sighs.
“Holly, calm down.” “Don’t tell me
to calm down,” she snaps, waving her hand at him. “You have no idea.” Suddenly, he
springs from the bed and grabs her wrists, stilling the movement. “It’s not
as bad as you think.” She struggles.
“How could it possibly be any worse?” Defeated, he
releases her and she resumes pacing. “I never
wanted this.” He sits back
on the bed heavily. “You didn’t think you’d get found out?” “I didn’t
think it would go this far,” she said, shrugging. “What?” “I didn’t
think I’d have to choose.” He looks at
her. “You don’t.” “Of course I
do.” “I’m not a
choice, Holly. You don’t get to weigh up both of us and then pick one.” She stops
abruptly. “I didn’t mean that.” “Yes, you did.
You just assumed that I’d want to be chosen.” “Don’t you?”
she asks, raising her eyebrow. He doesn’t
answer her question directly. “I didn’t expect it to go this far either.” She looks
surprised and he slowly rises from her bed. “I should
probably go.” “Yeah, you
should,” she says, her voice rising. “Because this is obviously a fucking
great time for you to leave me.” Closing his
eyes momentarily, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. * She lets
herself into the house as it starts to rain, her footsteps echoing on the
floor as she walks down the hallway. “Dan?” Entering the
kitchen, she saw him sitting at the table, his shoulders tense as he stares
out of the window. “Please listen
to me. I can explain...” He turns to
face her, his eyes red-rimmed. “Don’t bother, Holly. At least do me the
courtesy of not lying.” She nods
slowly. “Perhaps you
were wondering why I went to Newcastle? I didn’t tell you... I thought I
might be tempting fate, but I had an interview for clinical director in a
hospital there. I got the job,” he says, without a trace of joy. “I was going
to ask you to come with me. I thought there might be a small chance that
you’d say yes...” “There still
is,” she interrupts. “I want to go with you.” “I don’t think
I want you to come anymore.” He runs a hand
across his face. “I think if it’d been anyone else, Holly, then maybe I could
forgive you. But not him, not Patrick.” She swallows
back her tears. “When are you leaving?” He turns back
to the window. “As soon as possible.” “Okay.” “I deserved
better than this, Holly.” She looks at
him. “I know and I’m sorry.” * He opens the
door slowly, not sure who to expect that late in the evening. She stands
there, her head bowed and raindrops falling from her clothes and hair. Silently,
he steps aside and lets her enter. “Patrick,” she
begins, pushing a hand through her dripping hair and kneading the base of her
neck. “Yes?” “He’s leaving
me.” She stumbles
forward and he catches her, folding her in his arms. “I’ve ruined
everything,” she whispers into his shirt. “No you
haven’t,” he murmurs, more out of comfort than truth. She laughs
harshly. “He’s leaving and I didn’t realise what I had until now.” “Are you in
love with him?” “What?” she
asks, her voice muffled. “Do you love
him?” “I’m not
sure.” There is a
pause, and then she speaks. “Do you think
it’s possible to be in love with two people at the same time?” “I don’t think
so.” She looks up
in surprise, tears staining her cheeks. “You might
think you are, but this is just infatuation. It didn’t last before, it won’t
now.” He turns away
from the confused look in her eyes. “Holly, you
know what I’m going to say. If you really do love him...” Gently, she
steps away and then kisses his cheek. “Thank you.” * After she
leaves, he slumps into his armchair, one hand grasping a tumbler and the
other a bottle of Glenfiddich. It’s expensive, but then she’s worth it.
Upending the bottle, he watches as the amber liquid swirls into the glass and
then raises it in a sardonic toast to the empty room. “To the end of
a beautiful friendship.” Tipping his
head back, he swallows the whisky in one gulp. He eyes water as it burns his
throat and he realises that he isn’t completely numb yet. Filling the glass
again, he repeats his actions, enjoying the sharp taste of the liquid. * Slamming her
front door and leaning back against it for a moment, she vainly attempts to
squeeze the water from her hair. Then, feeling nausea start to creep up on
her, she gives up and slides to the floor, winding her arms around her knees. She almost
went back to Dan, but something had prevented her. If she is truthful with
herself, then she knows that he can’t make her happy. He could never make her
happy and she would only ever make him unhappy. Love should be everything and
she can’t, won’t, settle for anything less and neither will he. And that also
means not running back to Patrick when she’s miserable and suffocated by
monotony. She had thought that she might have been in love with him five
years ago, but he is right. It was just infatuation; they might have had
their moments, they might even have been inevitable, but ultimately they had
destroyed whatever remnants of friendship left between them. She drops her
head onto her bent knees, back cold against the door. End. |