Song Fic

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Goodbye My Love, I’m Sorry

Author: Glyph
Beta duty: PD (Thanks mucho, luv!)
Pairing: past Colin/Ryan implied
Summary: Everything ends…
Disclaimer: I don’t own the guys, and don’t own the song. Don’t own nuffin’, not even the cats. (They own me.)
A/N: This is a song-fic based on an Alanis Morriset deep, deep track (Your House) on the ‘Jagged Little Pill’ album, about a minute after the bonus track ends. This song isn’t even listed. You have to hunt for it, but it’s haunting, beautiful, and worth the effort to find it.



I went to your house
Walked up the stairs
Opened your door without ringing the bell
Walked down the hall
Into your room where I could smell you…

He shouldn’t be here. He knew that, but here he was with his hand on the knob, using the key he’d never given back. He knew Ryan wasn’t here yet, but he should be later. That’s why he’d come all this way today. He took a deep, steadying breath and unlocked the door. Keying the code on the touch pad and disarming the alarm he smiled. Ryan hadn’t changed the code. Maybe…

The kitchen was bright and warm with the subdued morning sunlight streaming through the windows, neat and silent except for the clock softly chiming ten. Unoccupied right now, but not empty. Oh no, it was filled with memories…

That night, sitting here at the breakfast bar, helping to clean up after the party, talking and laughing ‘til they cried, sharing the last of a really great bottle of scotch. The silence that had fallen between them, that first soft, hesitant kiss that blossomed…

Colin blinked. He could almost taste Ryan’s lips on his…

He dropped his keys on the counter and wandered down the hall. The pictures were still there. San Francisco, Seattle, here in Los Angeles, other places… Always the two of them, happy... laughing... playing… He hesitated at the bedroom door.

Would you forgive me love if I dance in your shower?
Would you forgive me love if I laid in your bed?
Would you forgive me love if I stay all afternoon?

A robe lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. He smiled and crossed the room to it, running his hand over its softness, then gathering it into his arms and stroking his cheek against its folds as he headed for the bathroom. He flicked on the stereo and the light, smiling at the sexy, gravely voice as it floated through the room. He remembered that, too. The whole room smelled of Ryan’s aftershave and Colin breathed it in deeply.

On a whim, not wanting to examine his motives too closely, he stripped down and turned the shower on, climbed in and slowly allowed the water and the memories to flow over him along with the scent of Ryan’s soap.

They had made love in the shower, Sinatra, sandalwood incense, and candlelight their accompaniment. Ryan’s hands, forceful yet gentle on him… the taste of him… the look on his face as he came…

Colin closed his eyes and danced slowly under the stream of water, remembering, finally opening his eyes when the water ran cold. Using the single, still damp towel, he dried off, slipped the robe around himself and returned to the bedroom. Lying down on the bed he stared at the ceiling, listening to the songs, love songs every one of them. He grabbed a pillow and wrapped it in his arms, curling himself around it. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in it.

He remembered falling asleep here many times, with long warm arms wrapped around him and a steady heartbeat thudding softly at his back, the smell of sweat and sex surrounding him, and under it all, Ryan. Always, always, Ryan…

And I shouldn’t stay long
You might come home soon
Shouldn’t stay long…

He woke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep and now it was almost three in the afternoon. Ryan should have been here by now. His agent had been sure his schedule was clear…

He dressed hurriedly, wetting his hair and smoothing it back into something that didn’t resemble the ears on Dumbo, and noticed a paper on the floor. He picked it up and was about to set it on the dresser when he smelled it: Perfume. He hesitated. He shouldn’t look, he knew that. It was an invasion of privacy.

Shameful.

Unethical.

He opened it anyway.

… and in spite of everything, I still love you. I know, especially after some of the things I said, you may not believe it, but I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I miss you, and the kids do, too.

Please come home. We need you so very much.

I love you.
Pat

Colin numbly went to the closet. The overnight bag was gone. He was gone. Gone back…

The clock chimed. Three o’clock.

Then it chimed again. Four.

And again.

Colin blinked and shivered, then re-folded the letter, placed it back on the dresser and quietly left the room. The memories followed him down the hall.

The spitting anger he’d felt when Ryan had tried to talk to him, his own guilty feelings rising up... The ugly things he’d said, the things Ryan had said to him when his temper had gotten the better of him… The ice that formed in the pit of his stomach and the look of bottomless hurt in Ryan’s eyes …

Now he’s gone.

So forgive me love if I cry in your shower
So forgive me love for the salt in your bed
So forgive me love if I cry all afternoon

The kitchen looked different, harder, colder somehow. No longer welcoming. He couldn’t be here any more.

He found some paper and a pen and wrote five words. Folding the note, he picked up his keys, slowly removing one from the ring and laying it on top of the paper to hold it down.

He stopped at the doorway, one last look. “Forgive me love,” he whispered, then set the alarm, twisted the lock on the door and quietly closed it behind him.