Freddy Peterson (save_my_heart) wrote in gcfanfics,
Freddy Peterson
save_my_heart
gcfanfics

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First post here.

Title: I waited
Author: me, save_my_heart
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, a little bit of Fluff
Summary: I love her, Benj. I'm sorry.


I remember the way my chest felt when I heard him say the words. My heart felt nothing, but my chest felt heavy and broken. It felt as if my bones were daggers into my lungs. The feeling quickly passed, but the words, the words lingered. They hung in the air like a smoke so thick I could barely see an inch in front of me. The echo of the words rang through my head. I saw your mouth still moving, but there was no sound. Only those words.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

I left the room then. I heard you say my name once in a low whisper, but you made no other attempt to stop me. I walked out the door, got in my car and drove home. My heart didn’t break. That’s how I knew it wasn’t true. You were being spiteful, getting back at me for that time I kissed Brian in a drunken haze or maybe it was the time I forgot to say I missed you on the phone. Sure it was a long time ago, but you always knew how to hold a grudge. You didn’t really love her. It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t your type. She wasn’t a tiny blonde haired, blue eyed girl. She was average height with harsh auburn hair that looked unnatural sitting on top of her average face. She had an average personality and wore average clothes and had an average smile. I knew you, you never settled for average. I stepped out of my car with my house keys in my hand. I slammed the car door.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

I unlocked the front door, flipped on the porch lights and headed towards the kitchen. I sat down on one of the dark wooden chairs, crossed my arms over my stomach, closed my eyes and waited.

I waited.

I waited for the words to stop and for you to knock on my door. I waited for my life to come back and my ears to bleed out and flood those words from my mind. I waited for the tightness in my chest to dissipate and for dagger wounds to heal.

I waited.

You never came. When I opened my eyes again, it was three hours later. I stood from my chair and walked to the refrigerator. I opened the door and bent down, letting the cool, re-circulated air tickle over my heated face. I reached for a beer, opened it, chugged it, burped, and grabbed another.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

I walked into the living room, laid down on the couch, and flipped on the tv. I set my beer on the floor next to me. I folded my hands across my stomach, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Again, I waited, and again, you never came.

When I opened my eyes again it was morning. The early morning news was on and my arm was hanging off the sofa. My beer was spilled on the floor. I didn’t bother to clean it up or move. I stayed laid across the couch for two days. My phone rang 12 times. I never answered. I got 28 text messages from you. I read every single one. I watched whatever came on channel 5: six different news reports, four infomercials and countless reruns. They all said the same thing.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

Sometime around the middle of the third day, I got up and cleaned the beer stain on the floor. I never changed the channel. I took my position on the couch again and laid there for four more days, only getting up take a piss and grab another beer.

On the seventh day I went into the basement. I lit a candle and wrote a song for you. I didn’t cry, I didn’t shake, I didn’t feel. I only wrote and played. My phone beeped. It was a text from you. You wanted me to have lunch with you and the average girl. To get to know her, see what she was really like, you wrote. I wrote, too. No thanks. I already knew everything about her. She was plain and boring and average. And you claimed to love her. That was more than enough knowledge for me.

My confidence began to waiver as I walked back up the steps. There were no lights on in the house and the sun was beginning to set. The setting sun. The eternal symbol of times passed. I shook the thought from my head and walked up the second set of stairs to my bedroom. I laid down, pulled the blankets up over my week old clothes, closed my eyes and waited. You didn’t come. I saw your face. I saw her face. I saw darkness. I heard only one thing.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

When I opened my eyes again, I was hot. The room was hot. I couldn’t breathe and the sirens were loud. I tried to stand but my head was clouded in smoke. I coughed hard and heavy. I could feel the daggers still in my chest. I began to crawl to the door, but changed my mind.

I love her, Benj. I’m sorry.

I laid down on the floor, crossed my arms over my stomach, closed my eyes and waited. I saw nothing and heard only one thing. I waited. You didn’t come. I waited until my breathing slowed, until my eyelids felt like weights, until my pulse repeated itself in big, pounding echos through my ears.

I love her, I love her, I love her.

On the eighth day, I found myself in a hospital bed. I could tell by the scratchy sheets and septic smell. My eyelids were still heavy, my breathing was still shallow, and my pulse still hammered through my ears, only this time, it was saying something different.

“I love you, Benj, I’m so sorry, so sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

My hospital gown was damp on my shoulder and my right hand was held tight in yours.

You came.
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