(no subject)

[amityville_sweetheart]

Corrine's picked up the phone to call him four times in the past hour. She doesn't want to be alone. Kelly is already in bed, already asleep, so she's not really alone, but... damnit. This house is too big and there's too many bad things soaked into the walls and she can't get away from it.

She'd been doing so good, really, but she was too lonely and it was cold outside and there was nothing on TV and she was alone. She didn't want to be alone. She'd cried in bed and tried to sleep, and it'd been useless because she kept thinking of him and how much she wanted him there in bed next to her. Just so she could sleep. Just for a little while. Just until she adjusted to this. She was allowed 'adjustment' time, right? Not together anymore but still kind of together, just until... until... when? Tomorrow? Next week?

This was the right thing to do. It was good for them. She kept telling herself that.

It wasn't really that she needed Caleb specifically, but anyone here with her right now would be good. She was putting on her brave face as always but right now it felt like the ceiling of the world was coming down on her head. So she'd done what she always did, and she hated herself now.

This was it, though. Really. Just one last, as she empties the shot glass. She really needed sleep. If she could just sleep, she'd be okay. Just a little more to sleep. It was too late to go anywhere and she didn't want to leave Kelly alone so it wasn't even like she could run to the store and buy a little box of those sleep aid things. So just one more. One more, and then sleep. It'd be okay. It was just for sleep.

Corrine picks up the phone again, staring at the receiver through blurred vision. In her peripheral, the bottle is almost empty. She starts dialing, and stops halfway through. She puts the phone down and stares at it.

Just one more. For sleep.

Comments

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Corrine starts at the sound. She swivels around on the stool at the nook, almost knocking the bottle off the table in the process. There's a little juggling act for a moment while she catches it, then sets it firmly on the table.

Being careful to grip it by the handle this time (and more for a weapon then anything), she stumbles down the hall, getting to the parlor and peeking through the curtain. Caleb's on the porch. Fuck. She shoves the bottle behind a pillow and makes her way to the door. Maybe she can feign that she'd been asleep. She cracks the door open and peeks out. "Caleb? It's four in the morning," and wincing at how slurred it is.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

She doesn’t look to be doing very well, he can’t help but note.

“I … I couldn’t help but observe that myself when your name appeared on my Caller ID. Are, uh … are you … are you alright?”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

She nods a little too hastily. "Yeah, yeah... everything's fine. Just can't sleep. Was gonna call Angie, but, uh... must've hit the wrong speed dial button. I didn't mean to wake you, I didn't realize it even rang."

She's trying to keep her speech together as much as possible, and hoping he'll hear this and leave it be. Part of her wants to pull him inside and invite him to stay for the night, but that would be... She couldn't do that. God, she was so fucking weak when it came to him.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Your drunk,” he says as he surveys her face and notices her speech patterns. She had made a point of mentioning that she had been trying to clean up, and that her house was, as of her dumping him, dry as a bone.

What made her fall off the wagon? Sure, relapses are a normal part of breaking any undesirable habit, but why now? He really wants to just open the door, throw his arms around her, and not let go until she tells him what’s wrong. But that wouldn’t work anymore, now would it? In fact, given her stated reasons fro terminating their relationship, that might actually be counter-productive. He curbs the impulse, and opts to instead just stare at her with that piercing gaze of his: The one that says ‘I see all.’

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Corrine starts to object, but then his look stops her. Her eyes narrow as she finally stops struggling, visibly slumping against the door. "You gonna lecture me now?"

She lets the door go, making her way back to the parlor and retrieving her bottle. "I'm coping... it was just for sleep, anyway. Besides, what do you care?" She twists the cap off, staring at it for a moment. And then, almost snubbing her nose at him, she takes a swig and grins. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Not like I have a fucking job to worry about anymore, thanks to you."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He merely nods, an acknowledgement of that fact that he did cost her her job.

“If you’re not worried about your job, at least be worried about yourself.” His nervous twitch kicks back in as he runs his right hand through his hair. As he does he can’t help but notice that, despite again being fully functional, his fingers are all still quite sore. Oddly enough, the pain feels appropriate.

“And why … why are you suddenly equating my concern for your well being with doubting your self-sufficiency? That’s hardly the case, after all.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

The bottle halfway to her lips again, she pauses. "What?" A stream of giggling. "I have no idea what you just said. Not that that's unusual."

She flops down into one of the couches, the soft cushions setting her balance off and she slumps against an arm rest. "So, what? What do you want?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He isn’t quite sure how to answer her.

“I just .. uh, well, you know.” He steps inside, and begins to follow her. “I just needed to make sure you were alright, is all.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

"Fine, thanks, goodnight," in one breath and she stares him down expectantly.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He doesn’t meet her eyes, opting instead to quietly nod, and allow his eyes to drift to the floor. His face betrays a renewed sense of heartbreak.

“It’s, uh …it’s obvious I’ve worn out my welcome, so I’ll take my leave of you, now.” And with that he turns to leave, doing his best to control is feelings. After all, there’s no sense in inadvertently guilt tripping her. She’s been through too much, as it is.

Then he stops, and turns back around. What was it she said? She wanted him to press her on things. “No, sod that,” he says with some conviction this time. “You may not want me to be here, but it’s rather obvious that you really don’t need to be alone just now.” He turns around, and walks back into the room with her.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Parts of her are struggling with whether she honestly wants him here or not. It's easier without him, easier without him standing right there and staring at her. Another drink from the bottle and she shrugs. "I don't care," she finally says. "Stay, go, doesn't matter."

A smile twitches up her face. "Unless you wanna--?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He closes the door and removes his coat - a clear indication that he has chosen to remain.

“Want to what?” he inquires.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

She rolls her eyes, a little exasperated laugh and she just stares at him.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He smiles, and tries to suppress the urge to chuckle to himself. He is, at best, marginally successful.

“I thought I’d explained during our fist date that I don’t take advantage of drunken women anymore.” He strides over to a love seat next to the couch, and sits down, taking the opportunity to rub his eyes. The hour has grown late, after all. ‘Besides, you can’t even decide if you want me around or not.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

"I don't want you around," she mutters, glaring at him over the tops of her eyes. The truth was, she was missing him now more than ever, and his rejection made things that much worse. "I'm bored at best. Don't make something of it."

She finishes off the bottle before making two failed attempts to get up from the couch. She finally manages the third time, stumbling her way towards the kitchen. "House rule. Nobody drinks alone." She giggles as she searches through a top pantry, finally finding the hidden bottle of rum. "Then again, mama started that, so I can't say what a bright idea it is."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“No,” he states authoritatively. Then, in a more compassionate tone. “You’re good and flagged, love.”

He makes his way over to her, and looks her in the eyes as he takes to bottle out of her hands. With her pathetic grip, it’s like taking candy from a baby. “And, uh … for what it’s worth, you’re a horrible liar, too.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Corrine rips the bottle back out of his hands, taking a step back from him. "Just so you know, you're welcome to go at any point."

She holds the bottle behind her back. "And I'm a better liar than you. Fooled you, didn't I?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He holds out his hand, and in an instant the bottle re-appears in it.

“I’ll take that under advisement, love, now can you please lie down? I don’t need you passing out and hitting your head or some such.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Enough of this. She was bored with this five minutes ago, and really, broken up or no, she had no intention of taking orders from him. A wave of one hand, but nothing happens. She does it again, more insistant this time, incanting as well. Nothing.

"You don't get the right to tell me what to do anymore," she says through gritted teeth. "Not that you ever did. Why can't you mind your own fucking business for once? That's what started all this anyway."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He lets her words roll right off of him. Had she been sober they would have actually hurt, but he learned a long time ago to completely disregard her when she was inebriated. His voice is still frustratingly calm, though it doesn’t seem to be so much measured as naturally calm and matter of fact.

“Because whether you like it or not I still love you, and I’m not going to leave you here alone while you’re like this. You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better, but I won’t leave, so I suggest you deal with it.”