Spanish Doll - [one shot]
Jan. 19th, 2009 09:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wl_fanfictionTitle: Spanish Doll
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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]
Author:
x_carnivale_xRating: 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]
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:03 pm (UTC)