Spanish Doll - [one shot]

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

Title: Spanish Doll
Author: x_carnivale_x
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Jeff/Chip.
Word Count: 1508.
Summary: Spanish doll: cuidame/ I keep it with me wherever I go/ and I love you still/ no matter how the story will unfold: Jeff must come to terms with Chip's departure from not only Los Angeles, but also from his life.
Author's Notes: This is a sort-of-songfic. And it's a combination of present and past experiences in Jeff's mind. [Italicized text represents past] If you want to kind of feel the mood of the piece beforehand, go listen to Sweet Spanish Doll by Poe. Based also somewhat on the picture below.





Post-party on some unknown street and pub in L.A. that seemed to blend in with all the others you'd been on, you sat out in a back alley - your second cigarette resting lightly between your lean fingers. Your back rested against against a sharp and uncomfortable brick wall, you sat on the gravel of the ground with your knees slightly bent and your arms slung casually over them. You were alone. You preferred it that way. You drew the cigarette up to your lips, inhaling deeply and feeling a choking and yet gentle tightness in your chest. You exhaled through your nose, knowing that the smoke was clouding up around your face like the lingering remains of personal feelings that should have been long forgotten. You flicked the cigarette, letting the embers fall to the alley ground, burning and staying orange only for a second before quickly dimming and blending in with the rest of the gravel.

It was late. The street lights should have been on. Well, they were - except for the one nearest to you. You chuckled sadly. Your face remained hidden. You took another drag of your cigarette and turned your head to stare down the empty alley. You felt at home. Pathetic. You heard the voices of a few of your friends. The shadows of the alleyway hid your form from them and you were thankful. They didn't even care to glance down the darkened path. The walked on towards some club, groupies and sluts following closely behind them or fused to their hips. Your cigarette had almost burned up. You took a final drag and tossed it aside. The orange embers on its tip continued to burn with each tiny breeze that brushed it. The corner of your mouth turned upward slightly at its lingering life. But the breeze died. And the embers died with it and disappeared into the darkness and grey. You sighed and pushed yourself up off the ground. You trudged slowly through the cold towards your flat. You suspected it would empty; you lived alone, but luckily, your friends who often stayed with you were elsewhere, and therefore the drooling females would be elsewhere as well.

You inched into the apartment quietly despite the fact that you knew it was empty. For some reason you did not want to disturb the silence. You shuffled slowly down the hall towards your bedroom. You reached your bed, but you didn't climb in, instead you bent down towards your pillow and lifted it up. A small cloth doll of a boy, no larger than your hand, rested there motionlessly. It was beginning to grow tattered; the once bright colors of its garments were fading, the yarn was fraying in certain places. You picked it up gently and held it. You rubbed your thumb across its face, feeling the small beads on its insides give in to the tender pressure of your fingers. You sat down on your bed lightly, still staring down at the doll.

"I got you something while I was in Madrid."

"You got me something on your honeymoon?"

"I saw it and I thought of you. I went back later that day and bought it."

"It's lovely."

"It isn't much. But I don't know. Made me think of you, Jeff."

"Thank you..."

You'd kept the doll in your room here in L.A. It sat on your nightstand and sometimes it seemed to look over you while you slept. Like Chip had done sometimes. Like when he'd sit with you in your bed and hold your hand. It wasn't much, but somehow it was enough. He'd tell you to lie down with him and you would. The two of you lying above the covers, still fully clothed, hands laced together, fingers softly stroking the other's fingers, your head resting on his chest. Breathing together. Eyes closed. The doll sitting beside the two of you and watching over you in silent approval.

You stared down at the little ragged toy in your hands. You wondered if it was anything more than a toy now. You could only hope it still held some form of meaning; some distant importance - a linger piece of hope that maybe, just maybe he still remembered... still cared.

"Patty's pregnant."

"Oh wow.... Congratulations."

"Try not to sound too enthused about it."

"Sorry, Chip."

"It's okay...."

"You should get your kid a doll like the one you got me. I bet they'd like it."

"No... that was just for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Just you."

While you were on the road, when he couldn't have been with you, you'd keep the doll with you in your hotel rooms with you. Or if you were traveling, it was always in your bag or your pocket. Sometimes you would just pet it lightly; savoring the amount of security it held. It wasn't everything; it wasn't even him. But it was enough at that time.

You set the doll down on your pillow and attempted to turn away from it, staring ahead at the greyish-blue wall across from you. You looked down at your jeans, your fingers fiddling with with the frayed bits of denim around the numerous holes in the fabric. You couldn't help but turn your head back towards the doll. You sighed and felt a weight drop into the pit of your stomach and a lump suddenly forming in your throat. Your fingers curled against your legs, pressing against your muscles in a futile attempt to calm yourself.

"Jeff I... Listen. I can't do our shows anymore... and I can't be around as much..."

"What?"

"I... I'm sorry. I've just. I've got a family now, doll."

"But..."

"I'm sorry... I'll still see you. I just have to worry about my kid now... He comes first."

"I know."

"That doll is still only yours."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You stared at the doll. You picked it up again slowly, your fingers being ever so gentle with it. But the calloused pads of your digits felt a small blemish, frayed string - a tear in the back of the doll. You felt torn too. It was another piece of yourself tattered and beginning to taper off, to wear down.

You wondered if Chip's son had something like this from Chip... something that would protect him at night; remind him that Chip was there for him and always would be. This memento couldn't only be yours. You knew that much. That knowledge killed you. But that's what knowledge did; it was a disease, and would eat you from the inside out. It had already partially done so. You were reminded slightly of your cigarette that had been left out in the alley. Your embers dying down as the breeze that kept you going had left.

"Hey Drew, where's Chip?"

"What?"

"Oh, I just didn't see him this morning, he running late or something?"

"...His flight back home left at like 4 this morning. He already did his last show with us..."

"What? He already left?"

"I thought you knew that he was done. Didn't he tell you?"

"No..."

"He must have thought he did."

"No, he just didn't tell me."

"He'll still be visiting us at a lot of our shows, no worries, Jeff."

"He didn't even fucking bother to tell me he was leaving..."

"It'll be alright, man, we'll see him soon, I think he agreed to doing an episode a couple months from now."

"Drew, you don't get it..."

You wanted to be rid of the doll. You carried it with you wherever you went; still operating under the false pretense that it and Chip would still be there and look over you and love you. Chip had had to move on from you, and you knew that; and the doll.... it could never love you, no matter how much you loved it. It could only grow old and fade. You longed to hold Chip's hand again.

You knew you would see him soon, he'd be visiting L.A. sometime soon. He'd be here again before you knew it and he would be standing on the sides of the set while you filmed, while you desperately tried to be happy, be funny. His wife and child would be at his side and in his child's arms would be a plush doll that the boy clung to for dear life - the child's representation of protection, a gift from his father. You wondered when the child would realize that even that idea of protection would fade.

Your grip on the doll tightened slightly. You wanted to get rid of it. It wouldn't last. Some day the right thread would be pulled and the whole thing would unravel, and there it would sit, nothing more than a pile of worthless yarn and beads resting at your feet. You wondered how long it would be till that happened; it was already fraying. You swallowed thickly. Maybe you should just pull the thread now. But you knew you couldn't and that knowledge killed you. You clutched the doll tightly and laid back onto your bunk, staring up at the blank boards above you. You pressed the doll to your chest and hoped it would listen to your heartbeat.

You knew it wouldn't; and eventually even the beating of your heart would fade like that little Spanish doll.


[fin]

::

This place feels so unfamiliar
And yet I know it well
I think I used to belong here
But the only way I can tell
Is that I miss you still
And I cannot find you here
You left me tattered and torn
Just like that Spanish doll



I pretty much cranked this out in like 40 minutes, so if it's awful, I'm really sorry.
Also, this was previously written in another fandom as part of a challenge, but I thought it would work with this pairing and would serve as a good introductory fic from me. :) Hope you liked it.

But anyway,

REVIEW I need them to live, kthx. <3.
Constructive criticism or just tell me it's awesome. :)

[pandora]

Comments

[xnadex.livejournal.com]

Hey :)
Well, I liked this. I'm not the greatest at constructive criticism but I'll give it a bit of a go!

I thought the format, with the past and present flashes, worked well. It told the story efficiently, and you didn't get bogged down in description.

The second person point of view can often be hard or awkward to write in. You managed to pull it off fairly well, but I still think it could use a little work if it's something you'd like to stick with in your writing. Also, when writing in second person, present tense usually works far better than past, which is what you've used.
Eg;
"It's late. The street lights should be on. Well, they are - except for the one nearest to you. You chuckle sadly. Your face remains hidden."
as opposed to
"It was late. The street lights should have been on. Well, they were - except for the one nearest to you. You chuckled sadly. Your face remained hidden."
- Both are fine, but using present tense can convey emotion more as the reader finds it easier to put themselves in the character's shoes.

You picked it up again slowly, your fingers being ever so gentle with it. But the calloused pads of your digits felt a small blemish, frayed string - a tear in the back of the doll. You felt torn too. It was another piece of yourself tattered and beginning to taper off, to wear down.
- That is a part I really like. I think the metaphor is good, and you didn't over analyse the situation at all.

Anyway, that's what I can offer. I hope I was maybe some help?

Good work on this, I enjoyed reading it :)

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

I've actually been writing for a number of years, and I go back and forth between using second person and third person. I toyed with present second person a bit, but mostly I found that past second person just works better for the way I write, since I've already pretty much developed my own style of writing.

I really appreciate the con-crit, I always love seeing it, and I especially love hearing that someone really liked something I wrote, so that was an added bonus. Thanks so much!

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Have you ever tried first person? That's another one I really enjoy, but I feel like it only works in certain circumstances and when done well, especially if you're writing about a character that's not your own, you know?

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

I've written a few things in first person, but it's really hard to make it, i don't know, make it realistic rather than just. too overly emotional. But I have a few things in first person.

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Emotional? How so? And what fandom did you write for before?

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

Not that emotional is a bad thing, but I find that a lot of times, both in my own writing and in others, when people write first person, they tend to try to put TOO much emotion in it (since it's supposed to be directly from the character), and it just gets illogical or unrealistic.

Also, I write for a buuuuunch of different fandoms. Mostly I focus in my own community, kh_slash, a Kill Hannah (band) slash community. I linger around Vam a lot too, reading and writing. I've written in Death Note (that was pretty short lived, even though I do still read it on occasion), I started out in Lostprophets slash, and if the community hadn't died, I'd still be writing there too. I've written in Monaboyd (Billy BoydxDominic Monaghan). On occasion I read Harry Potter slash, but I really have to be in the mood for it. I also used to tinker around in All American Rejects slash. But like I said earlier, my biggest thing is my own community.

I'm just now getting into WL slash, even though I've watched the show for yeeeeeears, since I was little. And even when I was young (12ish) I was like "this is so gay. I love it!" I just hope to see a bit more of Chip/Jeff (that isn't my own).

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

God, that's a great first line. ^_^

Oh, this is wonderful. So sweet and melancholy. I love the writing style. You don't often see 2nd person written, and I'm always wary of it, but you pulled it off well.

Oh, I can't tell you how much I love that you have Jeff smoking. It's a bit of a fetish of mine. ^_^

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

Hahah, I don't even like smoking itself, but it can be VERY sexy, I'm with you on that. And I suppose by first line you mean the first line of the fic in general? Well thank you so much. :)

I really appreciate the review.
Also, love the icon.... you wouldn't have an original of it, would you? Or perhaps more chip/jeff pictures? There just aren't enough.

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I have the original. It came off someone's site. I'd link you, but I haven't been able to find where the pics are suppose to be. Actually, I think I'll go post a Chip/Jeff picspam over to Whoselineslash. ^___^ Give me a bit to gather what I've got.

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

Really?! Yay! You're awesome. :)

[ktnflag.livejournal.com]

Yay, you cross-posted! :-)

I think you've inspired a flood of Chip/Jeff... Clay just posted some yummy picspam over at whoselineslash!

Welcome to the comm, and while you're here, feel free to nominate some stories for this year's fic awards (http://community.livejournal.com/wl_fanfiction/574071.html). A good excuse to trawl back through the archives ;-)

[l0v3l1k3w1nt3r.livejournal.com]

I'm for the first person thing... you can relate more to the character in that format. But anyway, I felt a nice film noir vibe throughout the whole story, and I liked it :D It made it seem very unique and interesting.

I'd like to be that little doll at the moment where it was lying between Jeff and Chip XP

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

I guess it works for some, for me, it's just difficult tense to write. I can do it, I just mostly don't enjoy it when I do, and I feel like I relate to second person more, because it's like you're actually becoming the character you're reading or writing about.

I'm really glad you liked it, though. And I'll hopefully be flooding this place with some much needed Chip/Jeff. :)

[And ahhh, wouldn't we all like to be the doll when it's with Chip and Jeff?]

[sungreen70.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is absolutely gorgeous, and all kinds of heartbreaking. I really liked the second person - it works well for this piece. Way too many favorite lines to quote them all, but this?

and the doll.... it could never love you, no matter how much you loved it. It could only grow old and fade.

...made me die a little inside. The whole piece was like that, actually - beautiful and melancholy but not at all overdone. I adore Jeff/Chip and they don't get nearly enough love in the fandom. You've got me tempted to take another stab at this pairing, between this story and Dyatlov Pass (which I was just revisiting and found this story after clicking your author tag).

Very, very nicely done.

Beautiful! <3

[shewolfsami.livejournal.com]

Wow this is really beautiful. I loved it. But poor Jeff I've read a couple stories like this and always feel like crying at the end because of the feelings of loneliness Jeff has. It's so sad.

You did a great job with this. You do a great job writing. All the best chipxjeff stories I've read are all yours. You know how to write this pairing. Thanks!!! hope you continue writing them