LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Gray by lpfan503

Gray

A/N: I tend to be a wordy writer. I decided to try this as a challenge to myself, to see if I could set a mood and tell a story in under 1,000 words. Thanks for reading.


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I’m just sitting here on the sand, alone, staring into the surf, watching the gray waves move in and out. The guys, they’re all at the release party, but I can’t force myself to be around him any longer.


There’s just not a lot of days like this in Southern California. Days that match my mood. Days that are the same color as my thoughts. Gray. Everything is gray now. Now that he’s gone. I know it’s over, no matter what he says.


I know I can’t stay here all night, but it’s tempting. Anything to stop the constant ache. I wish I could stay here until I fade into the sand, until I become one with the beach, until there’s nothing to feel anymore.


The waves, they represent the pain I feel. Endless, one wave after another. My eyes stare ahead without seeing subtleties.


“Hey,” he says quietly, from somewhere close behind me.


I close my eyes at the sound of his voice. I didn’t hear him creep up on me in the sand, in the wind. He startled me and my heart is racing, but I won’t turn around. I don’t want to look at his face. I can’t.


“Can I sit with you?”


I hear the caution in his voice. He thinks I’m going to turn him away, and I should. But I don’t. Instead, I just shrug, my hair whipping across my face in the wind. I stopped cutting it when he broke up with me. I just didn’t care anymore. At least now we’re confused less for each other. I don’t do interviews anymore though, so it really doesn’t matter.


He settles in close to me, wrapping his thin arms around his knees, drawing them in close to his chest. I think maybe he’s cold, but I don’t make a move to put my arms around him, to pull him into my body, to share my warmth. I just shove my hands deeper inside the pockets of my jacket and keep my eyes on the sea.


They’re going to have a baby. He’ll never come back to me now.


“I’m sorry,” he says, and I don’t even blink.


There’s no response I can make to that. If he was sorry, he wouldn’t have kept stringing her along. They wouldn’t have been having sex while I was fucking him every night. The thought makes my insides colder. That’s all I was to him. A good fuck.


“Rob.” His voice is pleading, but I don’t answer. My heart has hardened to him.


“Are you never going to look at me again?” He asks. “Are we just going to exist for the sake of the band, on opposite sides of the stage, and that’s it? Like it all meant nothing?” He sounds angry now, but I won’t let him shake my resolve.


I had to end it between us. It didn’t matter that I was in love. He wasn’t in love with me, or Elisa would be gone by now.


As if he could read my thoughts, he said, “I couldn’t just leave her, Robbie, please, try to understand.”


Finally I turn my head to see him. He looks even thinner now, his cheekbones prominent and his curly hair huge around his head. He stopped caring how he looked too, when I told him we were over. When I told him marriages and babies weren’t compatible with what we had. I almost feel sorry for him as our eyes meet, but then I look away.


“There’s nothing to understand,” I say hollowly. “You’re about to be a dad. Your wife and child will need you. You can’t keep a lover, too.”


There’s a beat of silence and I think maybe he’ll walk away. Leave me alone. That’s all I want, to be left alone with the memories of how good it once was between us. His gentle calloused hands and soft lips. His sharp wit and playful smiles.


“But Rob, please,” he tries, laying his hand on my forearm.


I let him stay that way, gripping my arm desperately, without even a breath in his direction. He’s invisible to me now. I want to keep everything that is good inside my head and drown the rest in the ocean waves. He’s taken my heart and stomped it into the ground, and I should have known better. I should have known someone as clever, as beautiful as him would never stay with someone like me. The quiet one, the shy one, the one who stumbles over words and can’t express himself. I never should have opened myself up to him. I’ll never do it again.


I’ve vowed it to myself, over and over these past months, as their baby and Brad’s hopelessness grew. Never again. Not with him. Not with anyone.


I feel the moment his determination crumbles; his grip slackens… his hand slips away. I feel the ghost of his touch linger. I wonder how long I’ll feel him.


I don’t feel the shattered remains of my soul breaking all over again. I don’t hear him walk away. All I can hear is the waves crashing on the shore.


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fin

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