rory / call on me

[RORY FIONN BRENNAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] and i'd expect this much from you mary the station is playing every sad song i remember like we were alive and i heard sunday morn from inside of these walls in this prison cell where we spent those nights and they burned up the diner where i always used to find her licking young boy's blood from her claws and i learned about the blues from this kitten i knew her hair was raven and her heart like a tomb - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - my heart's like a wound “I’m fine.” She was wiping her eyes, but it didn’t seem to be helping matters. She wasn’t fine. She didn’t need to tell him so. They lived together – and there are certain things you can’t hide from the person you live with. You see their lives. All the time. There’s no escape from their reality. So he knew how not fine she was. He knew what her life was. The party girl, the drunk girl, the girl pining over her worthless ex. Sometimes he just wanted to stop her when they passed each other in the hall and say, ‘You know you’re better than all this, don’t you?’ But that was far too friendly. And she wouldn’t listen even if he did. She was trying to give him his sweatshirt back, saying, “No. No Rory I can’t. I’ve put you through too much. It’s too cold for that.” He balled it up and tried to hand it back to her. She couldn’t be worried about him being cold. He was Irish, for Jaysus’ sake. Hardy. For the first twelve years of his life, he’d been cold. Even at it’s most miserable here in Florida, it was generally warmer than home. And that split in her skirt… For a second, his eyes rested and lingered on the strip of exposed skin up her thigh, and he thought… well, inappropriate thoughts that he really shouldn’t have been thinking. He glanced quickly away again. “Don’t be stubborn. You can’t walk home like that. Cars’ll be honking at you when they pass us by.” He didn’t add that they’d probably be pulling over, trying to pick her up. Checking to see if she was a prostitute. She’d been through enough tonight without him implying that she looked like a hooker. Even if she did. A little bit. “Yes please. I need to take a hot shower and go to bed.” She looked excited by the prospect, and Rory smiled a little, but absently. He was thinking about how much he wanted to crawl back into bed, and how he really couldn’t. He’d taken enough time off work with the whole ‘appendicitis’ episode. His father would kill him if he just didn’t turn up, no matter the valid ‘my roommate needed a four am rescue’ excuse. Maybe he should call one of Autumn’s friends to come and watch her while he was at work. She’d been drugged, after all. What if something weird happened to her? What if she went into a coma or something? Could you call a babysitting service for something like that? Probably not. He’d figure something out, anyway. note -- bad post is bad. >.< sorry lauren! ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM

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[AUTUMN PARKER DAWSON]

shes a killer queen.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; background-color:#af9ea8; padding:0px;] she was a wreck and she knew it. and yet, not a single fiber in her body was going to stop partying the way she was partying, she couldnt help it. watching him refuse the sweatshirt autumn groaned in frustration. stop being so damn stubborn ror. she stamped her foot down and let out a painful groan. heels sucked. pausing to lean against the wall she flipped her boots off, now in her long black socks she nodded at him. she was ready to go. they stood there for a few more moments, feeling the awkwardness between them she chuckled. cars beeping at her. it wouldnt be the first time but she wanst about to tell him that. anything at this point could set him off. it was almost time for him to go to work, and for that autumn figured shed shut up and do whatever he told her to do. she felt him staring at her and her mind raced. what was he looking at? did he find her attractive? no. no way. he was repulsed. she suddenly felt self concisous of herself. placing her hands in front of the rip she put her head down and turned away. lets go was all she mumbled before turning. she started to walk unsure of if he was following, but she decied to go anyway. she wanted to go home and she wanted to go home fast. but mid step she stopped and looked at him. complete ernesty and sincerity in her face. rory. i really am sorry. she looked down, a breif pause then looked back up at him. for everything.she didnt need to further explain herself. she was sorry for moving in, ruining his life, his fiance leaving him, this four am drunk pick up, the multiple parties at his place, the attempts to get in his pants, just...everything. when she was drunk autumn was sincere, and when she siad something she meant it. she didnt want rory to resent having her as a roommate, because she did care about him. that was something she avoided. her feelings. she knew that she had feelings for him, but she just shut them up and tucked them away. it wasnt the perfect time for her, or for him. and besides, who would ever want a drunken fool like her. obviously donnie didnt, so why would rory? WEARING

CREDIT TO JENNERS

[RORY FIONN BRENNAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] and i'd expect this much from you mary the station is playing every sad song i remember like we were alive and i heard sunday morn from inside of these walls in this prison cell where we spent those nights and they burned up the diner where i always used to find her licking young boy's blood from her claws and i learned about the blues from this kitten i knew her hair was raven and her heart like a tomb - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - my heart's like a wound “Stop being so damn stubborn Ror.” She said, stamping her foot like a five year old. She was taking her shoes off now. Was she insane? “Me stop being so stubborn? Take a look in the mirror, Missy.” He muttered, low enough so that she might not even have heard. He was starting to run out of patience. This didn’t happen often. Rory could be pushed a very long way before he snapped, but maybe his threshold for annoyances was lower than usual… being that it was so early in the morning, he’d not had enough sleep, and a full work day was looming large on the horizon. He just wanted to go home. If she wanted to walk home without shoes and her ass hanging out of her skirt, what business was that of his? He’d just let her do it. It wasn’t worth the fight. “Let’s go.” She was walking. He fell into step behind her. He found himself instinctively trying to shield her, walking at a slight angle so that less of her might be seen from the road, from the occasional car whistling past. Hadn’t he just decided it wasn’t the worth? Good Lord, he couldn’t give up, trying to protect her modesty. If she had any. Suddenly she stopped, and he nudged into the back of her before he managed to pull up short himself. “Rory I really am sorry. For everything.” He believed her. God knows why, but he did. She seemed sincere right now. Not her usual acidic self. He found himself softening again, his frustration with her ebbing. He really was a fool. “I’m sorry too.” He replied after a beat. “I am. Let’s keep going.” He moved past her and continued walking. They couldn’t just keep stopping and starting all night… morning. He was sorry. He really was. He was sorry for Autumn, for everything that had happened to drive her to this point in her life. He was sorry if she’d picked up on how much he didn’t want her in his apartment, because he hadn’t meant for his resentment to be so clear. He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable or out of place. He was sorry for all the times she’d strolled past him half-naked and he’d snapped at her to go and put some clothes on; sorry for all the times he’d sighed audibly when she’d mentioned she wanted to throw another sodding party; sorry for those moments when he’d looked down on her, automatically assumed that he was better than her. Was he, really? Probably not. And he was sorry most of all that she had to live with him at all. He knew it couldn’t be a barrel of laughs for her. He was the wrong type of person – boring, stuffy, mild to the extreme. He was sure she’d have picked anyone on the planet but him to live with if she could, and he wouldn’t blame her. He was sorry for that too. So now they were both sorry, and maybe she could stop apologising and they could just go home. ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM

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