thecapitol | Our Love is Quicksand [Closed]

Who| Howard and Eponine
What| Breakup 2: Electric Boogaloo
When| Two weeks after aliens.
Where| District 3 Suites
Warnings/Notes| None yet.

It takes him a good week to work up the nerve to talk to Eponine. During that time he picks at his lips so badly he's torn strips of skin down to his chin, leaving him with painful scabs. His cuticles are worn down to reddened, cracks nubs. Despite having recovered from the flu, if anything he looks even more sickly. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, and a twitch keeps jerking his head slightly to the side. The stress of the Arena is nothing on the stress of romance.

He only manages to psych himself up in the slightest hours of the morning, when the sun is just a smudge of pink on the horizon. He stays in the hallways watching it a moment before picking the lock into District 3, before heading into the suite and standing outside Eponine's door.

At long last, he knocks. He knows she's in there, knows that the Escorts wouldn't let her sleep in the alley for long.

He rests his forehead against the door. "Eponine? Epsy-Daisy? Eponine, please open up. I love you. Eponine. Please."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It is better then when we do not speak. You know, I think I would be mad, completely mad, if I didn't have you here."

She sneezes hard, and wipes her nose again on her arm, her horrid cuff knocking against Howard's head.

"Sorry. But it's true, you know. you keep my head properly with me most of the time. That's love, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I love you. I do love you." He spoons some ice cream into her mouth, swallows a mouthful of his own, then stops. He places the spoon down. "But. Like I just said. I think we work better as friends."

"Friends?" Eponine echoes his words, but she's barely conscious that she's speaking. Barely conscious that the ice cream melting in her mouth is dribbling from the corners.

She feels - numb. Sick. Her stomach heaves and she stares at Howard.

"You said you loved me. You said. YOU SAID - oh, what the hell."

She slides down off the counter and instead sits on the floor, with her knees drawn up. She can't look at him. How could he be so cruel as to make her think he loved her? And how could she have been so stupid as to fall for it?

"I do love you, I wasn't lying to you, I-" He sets his ice cream aside and crouches down on the floor next to her, trying to take her hands. "That's why I want to be friends. We can be good friends. I'm good to my friends, I promise."

Tears start to fill the corners of his eyes.

"DON'T -" She shrieks even as Howard crouches. She refuses to give up her hands, refuses to look at him.

"You lied to me. You lied. You said you loved me. You said I was more beautiful than Cosette. You told me - Why d. id you have to tell me? Why did you have to make me believe - you're CRUEL, Howard. You're worse than Montparnasse."

She shakes her head, looking up at him. As his eyes are watery, hers are perfectly dry. And it isn't because she's not upset. She is. She's devastated. Howard is her anchor, her rock - her one thing that is truly honest with her all the time.Except...lies. It's all been lies.

She should have known. She never, ever deserved anything near as good as what she had with Howard.

"You are just like the rest of this horrible place. Pretending to be lovely, when really, you are every ad as my bit as bad as my johns.

"I'm not lying to you! I didn't lie to you!" The tears start to roll freely. "I'm not like one of your johns, that's the reason I'm saying this, that's the reason I'm not just fucking you and using you, because-"

He wipes his face with his palm. "Eponine, Epsy, I...I like men."

"What?"

That actually gets her to look up, and she stares dumbfounded at Howard.

"But... But that's dirty. That's... It's wrong. To be with another man, to let him... You're lying. You're lying, aren't you? Tell me, Howard. You would not say I was beautiful, you would not want to kiss me and touch my breasts if you were one of those men."

She shakes her head. "or is it I am so ugly that even a man is better. Is that what you tell me? Well, FINE! Fine. You have made me the fool to be laughed at. Are you happy?"

She stands up, sneezing as she does. "Eat the ice cream yourself, Monsieur. I find it is time for me to retire."

He didn't expect her to understand. He hasn't expected anyone to understand. But because Wyatt was so relaxed about it, he let himself hope that it wouldn't hurt like this.

It does.

"No, it's not, it's not that, I never lied to you..." The tears roll down his neck, drip from his chin. "Please, Eponine, do I look happy right now?"

"And you think I am happy, because there are no tears down my face?" She turns back to him, eyes flashing with a temper rarely seen in her.

"I HATE you right now, Howard. I HATE YOU, more than I have ever hated anybody in my life. I HATE what you have told me. You have TRICKED me, Monsieur - yes you have, and do not dare to say otherwise, because it is not so. You let me fall in love with you. Always, always you have shouted at me and carried on that I love Marius, that I am all but married at home - well, you know, I have betrayed Montparnasse for you. And you - you make me love you more than I love Marius. You have made me fall in love. You have made me dream of us growing old together and looking after each other - having children, getting married. Having a house. I HATE you, Monsieur. I HATE YOU for doing that to me. You deserve to cry. You deserve -"

She cuts herself off, though, sagging against the counter. Her face is one of sheer despair.

"Please, Howard. Please tell me you joke. Please tell me that you love me."

He shrinks away from her, scared almost that she'll strike him. He recoils in instinct from explosions of anger.

He almost wishes she had attacked him. The lies she flings at him, the vitriol, is worse, because it's partly true. Not wholly - tirades rarely are fully factual - but enough to rend up his insides.

He should have called this off a long time ago.

It takes the last of his courage to force the words out of his throat. "I love you. But I can't be with you."

She gives a cry of despair at his words, and sinks back down to the floor, still clutching at the cabinet. Her legs feel like jelly, like they'll never support her again, so she sits as she is, heaving dry sobs Into her knees.

"You're a lisr, Howard. You're a liar. You must have known you liked boys. You - you are too young to know what you want. You are a little boy. I should have loved a man!"

Her words are slurred, running into one another as she gasps for breath, as she tries to make sense of what's happening, and how her safety net has suddenly frayed and unravelled.

Slowly, she heaves herself up, and begins to rummage through the cupboards, throwing packets and cans and bottles alike higgledy piggeldy onto the floor, until she finds the brandy. This, she begins to gulp down, gasping from the burn in her throat, even as tomato sauce from burst bean tins and melted ice cream begins to paint her toes

He watches her drink, and that's the point when he makes his decision. He's out of there. He's taken enough of her lashing without her fueling new insults and accusations with alcohol.

"Don't know what I saw in you anyway," he says, not because he means it, but because it'll hurt. Because it'll put the same twist in his chest into hers. Because he hates himself enough without her help, and being honest has only dug him into a deeper pit. "You might as well get wasted. I hope you puke all over yourself - it'll match the rest of you."

She sobs the louder at his words, and gulps down more of the brandy.

"GET OUT, Monsieur. LEAVE ME ALONE! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

She bends, fumbling for a can, which she chucks at Howard.

"GET OUT!"

She raises another, trying to look threatening.

He barely ducks the can, only saved by the fact that he naturally waits for the blow when rage is directed his way. He grabs the counter to keep from falling over and flips her off.

"Fuck you, Eponine. Whore."

And he slams the door on his way out.

Our Love is Quicksand [Closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject