She'll start thinkin' about him, and she's ready to fight
_{Blames her broken heart on every man in sight}

Cat was… well, the only word that would fully fit would be miserable, but melancholy, tired, sad, depressed, giving up, they all seemed to fit her basic mentality. She was divorced and watching her husband every day at work act like it didn’t even bother him like it didn’t even hurt. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted to and maybe that was the hardest part. Knowing that he was there, but he wasn’t hers anymore. Maybe he had moved on, maybe that was it. It had to be. There had to be someone else, and here she was alone, on Valentine’s day. She had gotten quite a few calls, texts, and pictures since the article had come out, but she didn’t want any of them. Gods, she didn’t want any of them. She wanted him and she couldn’t have him and maybe that was the hardest part, knowing that she couldn’t have him.

The bartender brought her a few more of the free shots and she nodded her head before ordering a whiskey as well. If she was going down she was going to go down hard. She wanted a hangover so bad all she would do is sleep through valentine’s day. All she wanted was to feel nothing and maybe that was the worst part. Even when she felt nothing, she still felt it. She still felt the lack of his presence, the pain in her heart. She could still hear his voice over and over saying that it was over and she had cried so much that she was never sure that she would be able to again, at least until the tears came back.

She had made herself a promise though. She would get herself through this day, through all of this and then she would get over it, get over him. Even if she wanted no one else, she would let her father marry her off. She would do her duty, and she would love him from afar. She would raise someone else’s children, and greet him at parties, and act like it was easy to forget that for a long time, he was the reason that her world span, he was the reason that she breathed. She hurt for now, and if though she felt like she was suffocating, she would breathe again.

Using the sleeve of her shirt she wiped the tears that fell from her eyes and cleared her throat. She had gone without makeup and her hair wasn’t styled, instead pulled back into a low pony tail, very much unlike her, but she didn’t feel like herself anymore. Closing her eyes she felt his hand on her skin, could hear him in her ear and she threw a shot back. One by one they would help wash him away, and she would get through this. She would let him go, even though she felt like it was going to kill her because it was what was what she had to do. He didn’t love her enough, or anymore. He wasn’t brave enough to love her, because he thought that she deserved more, deserved better. She didn’t but she would do what he wanted, she would find someone, she would marry and have kids and be the perfect pureblood wife that she had been taught to. She would smile for the world to see and hold her heart in her own hands, tight enough to keep it together and close enough that no one would ever see the cracks that were still there.

With each shot she let another memory go, she let another reason to never think of him again wash over her, and though it hurt her more than anything in this world, she had her lawyer draw up papers to give Van her half of the business. She would go back to school, have the life she should have had before him, the life that her parents wanted. She would pursue the law, maybe a lawyer for musicians or a label or something. Pulling out her phone she looked at the screen and pulled up his number. It still read Bael, but he wasn’t. Not anymore. Changing the name to Van she turned it off and put it into her purse before taking a sip from the whiskey as the song changed and she set it down and hid her face in her hands.

No. No! NO! Not this song. This was her song, their song, the one he had sung to her. She cried softly and put a hand over her face. Why couldn’t she just let him go? She raised the whiskey and finished it off and was about to order more shots when someone spoke her name and she jumped, squealing slightly and falling off her stool. Okay, maybe she was already drunk. But those shots weren’t living up to their name just yet. She hadn’t forgotten yet.

tag: @van // words: 825 // OUTFIT

template by eliza @ TB THQ

Sometimes, in the middle of the night

I can feel you again and I just miss you,
but I just wish I were a better man

TW: Suicidal Thoughts & Near-Actions

The loss of a loved one was not an easy thing to get over. The loss of two, well that was even harder, but the loss of one who was never really gone....always there across the desk from him, dropping by with the pets that were once theirs, hearing her humming a room away. Hell, hearing her humming when she wasn't even there. He had been so sure that this was the right thing. That their divorced was what was best for both of them. She deserved better than him. Gods, she deserved a thousand times better than he could ever be, but he simply could never be that man. And he had proved that. He had proved it to himself, and his family, and every bloody person in the realm that read those cursed gossip magazines. All those people who held doubt, they had all been right. 

Within months of placing that ring on her finger he had done his worst, and the worst part of all that was the ease in which he had done it. In truth his mother's illness had been wearing him down, something he knew now but not then, and with talk of children... It did nothing good for him. He hadn't wished to think of bringing new life into a world where the one who gave him life sat so helpless in bed, clinging to what little life she had left. He didn't want to think of it, and what was worse was that he didn't want anyone else in the world to be in that position. Twice now he had lost a parent. Once before his very eyes and the other from a far and uncomfortable distance. Both of them hurt, which one hit harder he couldn't say, but he knew now what that was like. He didn't have to go through such things again, thank the Gods, and he certainly didn't want some poor soul having to go through that for him. He simply wasn't worth it....

It seemed to be a common trend in his life. Van wasn't worth most things, let alone a damn, and it had gotten him to a point that he simply wondered what the point in trying was anymore. Sure, he was a wrockstar. One could argue he owed it to his fans to press on or whatever, but for what? He had lost everything. A mother, a father, and the love of his life. Hell, the love of all his lives, not that he ever believed in such things as reincarnation. If it ever turned out to be real though he prayed like hell that he could find Cat again and do things better. He would be better in his next life. This life? Well, it was far too wasted now. Too far gone to be salvaged, and why in the hell did he want to wade through this wreckage for all of eternity?

The darkness that swallowed him was a quiet type, one that he didn't let on. He told no one about his inner demons; he never did. Instead he had stared down a draught on his kitchen island for nearly an hour, sipping on his tequila and praying for the courage to take the damn thing and be over with it all. It was lucky that he hadn't then. Nor did he in the morning, or during his lunch break the day after. For nearly a fortnight that vile followed him around in his jacket pocket just waiting for him to have the gall to down it's contents. But he didn't. And then one day he found himself clutching that very vial, walking through a murky haze of darkness, into Saint Mungo's and up to Lord MacDougal's office.

He didn't have the time for inpatient bullshit. Hell, he didn't have a need for the press-- Van wanted this quiet, and dealt with soon. As if it were that easy. As if he could simply take happy potions the rest of his days and ignore his true problems. Please believe if he could have he would. But that wasn't going to solve anything. It wouldn't solve the gaping bleed slash he had ripped through his own heart. It wouldn't stop him from wishing he could take that bloody vial every morning he woke up alone. Every time he swore he had heard her voice, or seen a flash of her in the all. Nothing was going to solve the fact that he had irreparably broken them both in the guise of some act of heroism.

Heroism. How utterly laughable. Merlin, how stupid and diluted he must have been to have honestly believed that being apart from her was what was best for him. Two months time had shown him nothing but pain and anguish in her absence, and yet he had been so positively sure. Lord MacDougal had his theories on the matter, Van had his own-- but one thing was very clear. He was punishing himself. And the only way he could do that was to punish her-- to break her as a means of breaking himself. The unhealthiest and shittiest thing he could possibly do as a human, as a lover, as a friend. And then to keep as close as he had. Merlin, were his eyes open now to just how big of a piece of shit he truly was to her. More so than he had ever believed before, he knew now what he had done and continued to do was....unforgivable.

Or at least he would have believed it was once. The way he was had been so finite, and at times it still was: black or white. No grays, no different hues or shades. Simply black. Or white. He was either a terrible person or a fucking God back then, and there were no in-betweens. But now he saw more shades. Not as many as he should, but he was getting better. Each and every session helped to open his eyes to a new color he hadn't seen before. He wasn't quite in the black anymore. Was he a terrible piece of shit? Absolutely. Was he pitch black, dark as the Devil's soul itself? Murderous? Without empathy? Without trust or love? Absolutely not. He was capable of all those things. He was worthy of them too. And perhaps he was worthy of forgiveness as well. Not just from her, but of himself.

Forgiving himself was unfathomably hard. There were so many tallies on the dark side of the spectrum that he held against himself. Some dated back to his childhood, others to just yesterday, but none of them mattered as much as the ones that he marked between him and Cat. The things that his father had said to him were not the ones keeping him up at night. The things left unsaid between he and his mother, they weren't the things that made it feel like his very soul was being clawed out by the monsters he held within. All that hurt him now was what he had done to Cat, to his Zawja. The papers were signed but he knew that he could never honor them, not unless she told him so herself. Having them signed? It was nothing to him. Hell, he had signed them but there was no intent behind the sloppy ink scrawled on those neat legal parchment sheets.

The papers were meaningless to him, still laying where she had left them after she had dropped them by their house. His house. Gods, would he ever be able to get that right? He thought not. It didn't make sense to just be his. It was theirs, like those blasted dogs were theirs, just like their last name, and their wedding rings, and that bloody song he had done up just for her. This life was not his alone, but theirs.  And if it were even the slightest possibility he was going to get them back, dammit.

Van had gone to Xio hoping to find Cat around but she was gone. Gone to get Obliterated at The Roadhouse, she had told him. Well, he knew full on what that meant but he hadn't expected the sight when had entered. She looked about as happy as he felt but never showed, and it broke his heart to see her unguarded like that. She had managed to keep her heartache to herself at work, though he had sensed it. He never knew if she had sensed it in him, but Merlin were there days that just smelling her perfume was enough to make him want to sob into the soundboard. 

Hard as it was to swallow the lump in his throat he did as he went and requested their song. Something to remind him of why he was there, something to bring up memories they had, happy ones and not ones that tasted of liquor and regret. Van dawdled over, trying to find the words to say, but nothing came. There was nothing he could force out of his mouth because there wasn't a damn thing about them that could ever be forced. He sighed heavily before he finally spoke. "Cat," he called to her. She jumped, with some adorable mousy noise, and nearly fell off her stool but he quickly caught her the best he could. Van looked at the clumsy blonde with the smirk of a man who had finally seen color in a world of black and white. Merlin, had he been this close to her in weeks? "A bit drunk are we?" He chuckled, making sure she was well on her feet enough to get back to her bar stool.

@caterina | Outfit: No Hat | Words:1619

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0

She'll start thinkin' about him, and she's ready to fight
_{Blames her broken heart on every man in sight}

There had been times that if it wasn’t for Xiomara, Quiana and her mother, Cat wasn’t sure what she would have done, but after a while she had taken care of herself. She had started eating again, she had stopped drinking as much and had been trying to focus on her work, trying to find something that made her happy that wasn’t Van. For a while the music had been that, it had been something that she could do and it was her own, but now. Well, now she was stuck there alone with him all the time and that was perhaps the thing hat cut her open the deepest.

Funny how falling in love had taken her from a wild child to this mess that she was and perhaps that was one of the most upsetting things, when even her father took notice that she wasn't the same. Family dinners were never fun anyway, but when she didn’t bite back at Judah, when Castor could say anything to her and she didn’t fight him. Even going so far as to getting him drinks when he had asked her to, her father had pulled her aside and spoken to her, and it was the reason she was doing this. Letting go, because even he saw the pain that she was in. He didn’t think that Van was worth it. He had never liked the man, but she had made her choice and now she was going to have to live with it.

She didn’t want to, she wanted to go back in time and take it all back. She wanted to just have married Michael and never slept with Van. Then her heart wouldn’t have broken. Then she would have maybe still had Jaxon, maybe she could have run away with someone else, maybe to the States or something. Maybe she could have been happy if she had just stopped being selfish for five minutes. She had no idea,

He had taken everything that she was crumpled it like all of the dreams that she had for them and thrown it in the trash. It left her feeling like a used hanky and she was tired of it. He had hurt her for the last time and Caterina Madelyn Shafiq was moving the fuck on. Fuck him. Fuck him and his handsome face, and his charm and the way he said her name.

Only… he caught her. Her heart felt like it stopped and she looked up at him, and then her heart caught up with her again and she felt the pain. Shrugging out of his hands she said nothing and got up on the stool again before lifting a glass to her lips again and downing another “Obliviator”. Nope still there. God damn it. ”What do you want, Van?” She asked him finally, a soft sniff coming from her, but she didn’t look at him, she couldn’t be that weak.

”Surely, you of all people have a date tonight.” She said bitterly before digging into her bag for a cigarette.

tag: @van // words: 512 // OUTFIT

template by eliza @ TB THQ

SOMETIMES, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I CAN FEEL YOU AGAIN AND I JUST MISS YOU,
BUT I JUST WISH I WERE A BETTER MAN

There had been a million instances in Van's mind that he had rehearsed what he might say to her in a moment like this. Sitting across from her in the studio he'd come up with a hundred different ways to try and work it into conversation that he wanted her back more than he wanted to fucking breathe, but he hadn't said a word. He had kept his mouth shut and his heart broken for long enough, but he had been waiting. For what exactly? He hadn't been sure. But something told him that randomly announcing that he still loved her even when he was being stupid, even when this was all his fault, in front of clients seemed like a bad idea.

There had been times when they were alone. Merlin, too many bloody times. Times like that had made it especially hard to keep his mouth shut, and she had likely noticed the randomness in which he left the studio in recent weeks. He felt weak. He felt dumb and....embarrassed, really. What he had done to them and how he had pushed her away, and for what? To just wish it all back? To want to beg her to come home? Lie with him in bed again and let him breathe in her scent? To be able to follow through with every random whim that came to him as he nearly reached out to touch her? Place his hand on her leg, pull her onto his lap, brush the hair from her face-- without having to feel like he couldn't? 

He didn't deserve to feel like he could ask for that back. No, no, that wasn't true. Ellis had been helping him to see that. He was deserving of love, but....was it too late to be deserving of hers after all he had done? The beating monstrosity that was his heard begged a simple no. It had met it's match, it'd said. It had met the one who's heart beats the same rhythm as his own and she would have to take him back. His mind, however poisonous the thoughts in it could sometimes be, rationalized that the heart was a fickle dreamer and she'd be long done with him and his antics by now. 

Arguing with himself, it was pointless. He knew what he wanted, all organs be damned, and the only thing stopping him from having an answer to it one way or another was himself. So he had decided that it was well overdue he find out. Though, finding out from a rather drunk and angry sounding blonde at the bar wasn't how he had planned it. Then again, none of the speeches he had planned seemed fitting either. It had to come naturally, as all things with her did. Just as simply as the flirtatious jokes rolled off his tongue, even after everything.

"Glass of Tennessee Whiskey, if you're buying--" he joked as she asked what he wanted. He hoped that maybe, if she hadn't already, his faux order would bring her attention to the song he had played. Their song. The bar tender must have heard him because a drink appeared before him rather quickly. Van grabbed it pulling it to him as he sat on the stool beside her, leaning against the bar to look in her direction. "Well if you want to call this a date," he joked again, a weak smile on his face as his gaze fell into his drink. Van rapped his fist against the bar top before speaking again. "No, I erm...I came to talk about us, Cat. Or rather the lack thereof... and how it's killing me." The words came tumbling out softly, though brutal in their honesty. If there was one thing that could be said in the Hufflepuff's favor it was that he was always honest.

@caterina | Outfit | Notes:

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0

title
_subtitle

She had never thought that she would ever be involved in the music business. She had been taught that she would be a wife, a mother, and told the things that she was expected to do and be. She had spent almost all of her life wanting quite the opposite. She didn't want to marry someone she didn't know, she didn't want to be someone that she could not like when she looked in the mirror. So she had done what she ha wanted and that was how she and Van had met. It had been one of the best experiences of her life and it had been one of the things that had made her do what she did when she had been betrothed to Michael. Of course, then she had been mostly single.

Now, well now she was fully single. Now she was alone and no one and nothing to answer to. Not that she liked having anyone to answer to, but she knew all too well that it didn't mean that she didn't want it. Having Van around had held her accountable. It made her see what she needed to work on and it made her see the better parts of herself. But then, it made her see the worst parts too. Maybe that was why he cheated, he had seen the worst in her and it was too much like the worst in himself. She wished that wasn't true, but she was honestly not shocked that it was, she was no good for anyone, not anymore. She wanted to be happy and to love and be thought perfect and wonderful and beautiful. She wasn't. She was just...broken.

Somewhere along the way she had lost herself in the person that she thought that she would need to be because she had married Van. She was a wife with no real job, no profession, no life. He had been her life/, but now she was going to move on, she had to. Van Dario Parkinson had made that decision for her, and she was going to have to accept it. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair before putting the cigarette case on the bar and opening it. Taking a moment she lit it then looked at him with a blank face, her bright eyes not showing anything, the light they once held when she looked at him, long gone. Taking a puff from the smoke she let it fall from her lips, like a cloud of the pain that he had bred and then blinked before turning her head.

"Give him what he wants. I'll have tequila, leave the bottle." It was going to be pretty hard to forget him with him sitting right there, but with a bottle of José she could forget almost anything. She poured some into a glass that was before her and raised it to her lips, wincing at the burn.

"Oh, yes, the irony. A date with the wife you kicked out before Christmas, on Valentine's day. How... charming." She spat before sneering when she turned to look at him. "Perhaps you should have thought about that. Like I've not been dying for the two months since you did it. What more is there left to say?" She was sorry that the words even came from her, but there was anger in her now, steeped into her bones. She felt sorry for the words even as she said them, but he had hurt her. Crushed her, destroyed her heart. What did he expect? Her to fall into his arms?

tag: --- // words:602 // OUTFIT

template by eliza @ TB THQ

SOMETIMES, IN THE
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I CAN FEEL YOU AGAIN AND I JUST MISS YOU,
BUT I JUST WISH I WERE A BETTER MAN

There was a conflicting rip down the center line of his body. The person he was and who he wanted to be at odds with each other. Some days who he was took over and trotted around in his body, sneering nasty remarks and doing whatever selfish thing it could think to do. Van had grown more into himself as the years went on. More sure and full of himself too. Fame did little to diminish any bad habits he may have had. If anything they became electrified, especially in the presence of an audience. He hadn't had to care about anyone but himself in such a long time. It was all about what he wanted. No matter the consequences. Eoin MacNair could attest to that. He and his piles of paperwork showing the slow and steady incline of his outrageous behavior.

Being with Caterina had been a part of that. They were only supposed to have met for lunch. A lunch that he hadn't even wanted to attend. Something his mother had pressured him in to. But Gods be damned if her pretty brown eyes and devilish grin didn't make him weak. It was supposed to be once. Then twice. Then a couple times more and before he knew it he was entirely devoured by the monster they called love. Monsters like that rarely fed on monsters like him. 

When it came to loving her he did what he knew how to do. That had been easy at first. It always is. But the first sure sign of a bump in the road had the monster heaving and hocking him back up. He wasn't designed for a love like that, not built for it. But he wanted it. He wanted it bad. Her and him forever, that was all he wanted now and then and always. Showing that was hard when the monster he was took the wheel. He had done things. Horrible things, things that were not bred out of love. They were bred from hate. His own self hate. As pitiful as it was it was strong. It had been strong all his life. Through his fights with his father and pushing away all the things he never thought he could be. It grew stronger all the time.

How could someone love something like him when he didn't even love himself? How could he let her love him? As much as he wanted her and their life together he had been so sure that it was wrong. He was no Lordly man, he was no husband. Years of shoving and raking the hands of duty off his body had impressed it into him. He couldn't be the man she deserved. Not like this. Not as he was. And so he had pushed her away. Sent her to find someone better, someone who could give her what she needed and deserved. That wasn't him. And no amount of hoping would ever make it so.

In his own eyes it was the most selfless thing he had ever done, and in doing so it opened his eyes to just how selfish he had become. How damaged he was. He wanted to be better. He wanted to become the man she deserved. But walking that path didn't change the fact that the forest of their past was burning behind him each and every step of the way. At the end of the road he was on he hoped to find her. He hoped to find them happy as they ever were and together once again. His only hope was that he hadn't left her too burned in the process. Listening to the fire in her words and seeing the smoke roll off her tongue made him unsure that he hadn't.

"To be fair it's not Valentine's day yet," he blew a laugh from his nose, the confidence he had mustered seemed to be slipping out with it. It was so unlike him to feel like this. He was a bloody wrockstar, cocky as hell and as sure as the Devil and here he sat feeling more vulnerable than he ever had. Her words and the tequila on his lips forced him to wince. She was right. And sometimes the truth burned just as bad as the liquor.

"I know y'have Cat." His words gentle and undismissive. "I've seen it killing you every day and I'm sorry for it. I'm sorry for everything." Van paused. His eyes fell to the golden liquor in his drink. He tapped his ring finger against the glass, relishing the sound of metal against it. The sound of clarity. "I've done some terrible things. To you....to everyone. And there's not a damn thing I can do to take them back." The words cut like daggers when said out loud. Ellis had told him that ownership was the hardest part. He would almost agree. Seeing the emptiness in scorned eyes. Now that was the hardest part.

Van heaved a sigh, his own gaze locked on the woman he hoped was still his wife. Beneath the brokenness and cigarette smoke. "But I am trying to make certain that I never do them again. I don't want to hurt you again, Cat. I don't want to keep hurting the one's I love." 

@caterina | Outfit | Notes:

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0

SHE'LL START THINKIN' ABOUT HIM, AND SHE'S READY TO FIGHT

blames her broken heart on every man in sight

When they had met again in that diner he had not remembered her, but two years had changed her a lot. She had cut her hair and started to color it. She had been with him once before and it had been an amazing night, one that had haunted her since then. He had not been her first, but he was the first one that she had enjoyed. The concert had haunted her and seeing him and him not recognize her made it even better, but when he had asked her if she had always been a blonde she had laughed, and she still laughed when she thought about it now. That had been so long ago. Not even a year, but it felt like it had been so much longer. So many things had changed since then, and so many things would never be the same.

She ran a hand over her face, aware that she was not wearing make up, aware that the rings around her eyes were clearly visible but she didn't care. She wasn't trying to look good she was trying to forget him but yet he wouldn't go away. He wouldn't leave her be, so she poured another shot and hoped that this one would numb the pain a little better, but it didn't. She filled his shot glass and sighed before putting her chin in her hands. Why couldn't he just leave her well enough alone? Did he have to keep reminding her that she had ruined her life, and her reputation? Michael would never be her friend again, Jaxon had moved on, Van didn't want her. What more did people want from her? Not like she could just move to Turkey and marry someone Jidd wanted her to. It wasn't that easy.

She rolled her eyes and gave a mocking laugh. "To be fair, I don't rightly give a fuck. The decor and the vibe of the place say otherwise, Van. " Had this been his home she would be throwing things and screaming and crying. She would be making him feel every single bit as bad as she did. She wanted him to hurt and realize that he had fucked up, that he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, and make him regret it for the rest of his life. He said he was sorry and she shrugged. She was sorry too but that didn't make this any better. "You're right, you can't and come November it won't be your problem anymore." She had seen the contracts she only had to meet the bloke. The date was set the place was set. She just had to sign the papers and take the ring, and that would be it. Nine months and she would be married again to the head of some family that wasn't even scared. In two years this would be a bad dream, and she could try and forget the way that his smile tasted on her lips, how his hands fit on her waist and how his name sounded in the height of their passions. Other names had been said since the last time he had said hers. Four names. Four times. Four girls who could replace her.

She put her hand to her chest and she closed her eyes, trying to forget that she even knew them. He said he didn't want to hurt her anymore and she scoffed. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you made me out to be a fool. Before you broke me, but yet here you are. Do you want to not hurt me again? The go away and sign the papers my lawyer brings in the morning. You won't be able to hurt me when you don't even see me anymore." Her voice hollow, her limbs heavy as she looked at the bar top. "Just let me go, Van." She wanted him to grab her and kiss her, and tell her he loves her still, but he didn't if he had he would have come before now. He would have made her stay when she brought him the papers. She was nothing to him. She could accept that now. After all, that was the only explanation for him letting her go, for him cheating. "If you ever loved me, Van, you never would have let me go. But what does it matter, we aren't married anymore. I'm not your problem anymore. "

tag: @van words: 750 template by eliza @ tb & thq

SOMETIMES, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I CAN FEEL YOU AGAIN AND I JUST MISS YOU,
BUT I JUST WISH I WERE A BETTER MAN

He was trying to be softer. He was trying to show that he cared, that he was still the same man he was the day he took her on that rooftop terrace. It seemed like eons ago that they had celebrated her birthday but it wasn't even a full year. It seemed longer. Everything about this past year had made it seem that way. It was as though they had crammed a lifetime of heartaches into three hundred and sixty five days. And he wasn't prepared to cope with that. He hadn't been, and it showed. Van liked to think he was now. Maybe not entirely, maybe not without standing on shaky legs, but better than he was before. That was all he could strive for anymore. To be better than he was. To be a better brother, musician, husband. To be a better husband was all he really wanted. To be one at all to Cat was all that mattered. He wanted her and no amount of softness was going to persuade her of that. If he wanted her love he would have to fight for it.

Her immediate jab at his attempt at humor proved it fair and square. She was not going to take this lightly. He wasn't going to be able to joke through this like he always did. He wasn't going to be able to deflect the things he felt. The words came from her lips and there was no hiding the anguish on his face. He had heard a rumor, but he hadn't wanted it to be true. That they had arranged something else. That come autumn she would be with some other man, someone not him. How quick they were to sell her off to some highest bidder had him seething inside now that he had a grasp that it was true. 

"Come November nothing." He could feel the grit of his teeth as his jaw clenched. His dark eyes left the honey color of his drink and moved to the hollowness of her own brown eyes. "Nothing is going to happen this November because you are still my wife-- I've not signed the bloody papers. I've not turned them in. They are sitting in the floo waiting to be fucking burned, Cat." His voice was shaking, but he didn't care. "And if you want me to turn them in then you'll have to make me. Take every legal action you can, force my hand if you've got to, but I am not signing them willingly. Do you hear me?" His tight gripped hand brought his drink to meet his lips. "You may have your papers, but it won't be by November if I've got anything to do with it."

Van's eyes never left hers even as he downed the entire shot she had poured him. The burn felt like nothing compared to the things he wanted to say, the urgency in which he felt to get them out. She belonged with him. Not with some other man. Not with someone else at all and she needed to know. She needed to know that he wasn't giving her up, that he hadn't-- not yet. "I love you, Cat. I love you more than I've loved anything in my entire life. More than my family, more than music, more than I've ever loved myself. And I can't let you go. I won't. And I know I hurt you when I walked away and it tore me limb from limb to do it but I did it because I love you. I thought it was what was best."

"But it isn't." Van could feel the welling in his eyes. For once he didn't try to stop or hide it. He didn't care. This could be the one and only chance he had to tell her how he felt. She could hate him still after this, she could hate him more, but he wasn't going to lose this opportunity. Even if he lost her, she needed to know.  "It isn't and I can't be without you. I'm not supposed to be without you. You belong with me. In every lifetime, in every world, and realm-- you are supposed to be with me. And I'm so fucking thick that I thought maybe I could live without you, but I can't."

"I wake up every day that you're not beside me and it fucking kills me, Cat. It kills me--" his hand reached out for her, squeezing her just above the knee. His other hand was pressed against his chest. He needed to keep it there, not on the booze, but there. Where she was, where he needed her to be. "And it's killing you too, Zawja. Look at us. Two black dressed fools, in a sea of frilly red hearts. Like we're at a funeral for love-- but it doesn't have to be like that for us. It's not like that. I still love you. I still want to be with you, and I'm never going to stop wanting that." His hand squeezed against her thigh; his eyes more serious than he had ever felt them as they searched in hers for any sliver of the woman he knew that had been buried in all of his mistakes. "I want you back, Cat."

@caterina | Outfit: No Hat | Words: 886

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0