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wl_fanfictionTitle: Distance
Characters: Greg, Colin, Ryan
Pairing: Err.. Greg/Colin/Ryan... sort of
Rating: R (for swearing)
Word Count: 300-ish
Disclaimer: Don't own. Not real. Etc.
Author's Note: I joined a couple of weeks ago, however haven't been able to post 'cause of RL stuff. This was written purely for my own entertainment.
If Greg sat down and started remembering, he would remember Ryan's laughter and the way the England rain made Colin look like a wet chicken. He doesn't though, because he never did, and because 48 isn't the time to start.
What Greg doesn't remember, by ignorance or design, is actually much more important. What Greg doesn't remember - Colin's eyes in the dark and Ryan's chest against his back - can't hurt him. If he's too busy or too high to think about it, it doesn't exist, except when it comes back to haunt him at 4 in the morning. During the day he'll pretend that he didn't sit in the kitchen till daybreak, silently watching the phone not ring. It's not that bad, but that night he'll say 'fuck' 52 times in a matter of 15 minutes as the audience laughs and laughs. His voice never cracks on purpose.
The real lie (how funny that there should be a distinction) is that he doesn't miss them.
He doesn't argue with Drew about politics because somewhere inside he's afraid that they're both wrong. And secretly (resentfully) he thinks that Drew just doesn't care enough. Which in all fairness... if he was a multi-millionaire, he might not either. That's when he remembers Colin's "we can all only do so much" and Ryan's hand on his shoulder, except Los Angeles is nothing like London and the distance between who he was and who he has become is infinitely longer than the Atlantic.
Everyone gets some part of what they want but no one ever gets it all. Colin calls it 'compromise'. Greg calls it 'life is a motherfucking bitch that is out to fuck us all'. Ryan just covers his wedding ring and doesn't say anything. And Greg can't tell which one of them is right.
When he gets up at 7 the sky is still grey and he feels the gaping hole in his chest where his friends used to be. He drinks coffee and kisses his wife. Somewhere along the line laughter started to equal pain and now every time the audience laughs he hurts. He misses England.
Colin calls him once to say hi and Greg spends five minutes trying to choke out something that isn't the truth. He says, "I don't remember what it was like anymore," but he's not lying.
Ryan doesn't call.
Characters: Greg, Colin, Ryan
Pairing: Err.. Greg/Colin/Ryan... sort of
Rating: R (for swearing)
Word Count: 300-ish
Disclaimer: Don't own. Not real. Etc.
Author's Note: I joined a couple of weeks ago, however haven't been able to post 'cause of RL stuff. This was written purely for my own entertainment.
If Greg sat down and started remembering, he would remember Ryan's laughter and the way the England rain made Colin look like a wet chicken. He doesn't though, because he never did, and because 48 isn't the time to start.
What Greg doesn't remember, by ignorance or design, is actually much more important. What Greg doesn't remember - Colin's eyes in the dark and Ryan's chest against his back - can't hurt him. If he's too busy or too high to think about it, it doesn't exist, except when it comes back to haunt him at 4 in the morning. During the day he'll pretend that he didn't sit in the kitchen till daybreak, silently watching the phone not ring. It's not that bad, but that night he'll say 'fuck' 52 times in a matter of 15 minutes as the audience laughs and laughs. His voice never cracks on purpose.
The real lie (how funny that there should be a distinction) is that he doesn't miss them.
He doesn't argue with Drew about politics because somewhere inside he's afraid that they're both wrong. And secretly (resentfully) he thinks that Drew just doesn't care enough. Which in all fairness... if he was a multi-millionaire, he might not either. That's when he remembers Colin's "we can all only do so much" and Ryan's hand on his shoulder, except Los Angeles is nothing like London and the distance between who he was and who he has become is infinitely longer than the Atlantic.
Everyone gets some part of what they want but no one ever gets it all. Colin calls it 'compromise'. Greg calls it 'life is a motherfucking bitch that is out to fuck us all'. Ryan just covers his wedding ring and doesn't say anything. And Greg can't tell which one of them is right.
When he gets up at 7 the sky is still grey and he feels the gaping hole in his chest where his friends used to be. He drinks coffee and kisses his wife. Somewhere along the line laughter started to equal pain and now every time the audience laughs he hurts. He misses England.
Colin calls him once to say hi and Greg spends five minutes trying to choke out something that isn't the truth. He says, "I don't remember what it was like anymore," but he's not lying.
Ryan doesn't call.
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