|Current music:||Come Back - Foo Fighters|
Title: Come Back
Author: Quai-Dian (Isilme)
Fandom: Foo Fighters RPS
Pairing: Dave Grohl/Taylor Hawkins
Summary: I've been gone so long. But I will come back to you...
Archive Permissions: Archive anywhere as long as my email address is on it (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I don't own them. This is all my imagination. No harm intended.
Notes: I had to write this. To save my heart.
Taylor was pretty lost after awhile. He didn't know his way. He walked in the cold and the snow and let his tears freeze on his cheeks. He'd never been so alone. And even though he'd see Dave the next day at sound check, it would never be the same.
Eventually he caught a cab. He was thankful that the Japanese all seemed fairly fluent in English or else he would have never made it back to the hotel. When he got there he didn't go in right away. Instead he stood out by the front doors and chain smoked cigarettes, lighting each new one off the last burning embers of the last. He didn't cry anymore, he was out of tears, but he shivered in his relatively thin jacket, ducking his head back in his hood.
He was thinking, almost too hard, and he let the Parliament Light in his fingers burn out. When he raised his lighter to ignite a new one he saw the red light of the flame spill over his fingers, glinting against the band of silver wrapped tightly about his left ring finger.
He dropped the cigarette.
He held his hand up to his face, fingers trembling as he stared. It was so simple but something he'd completely forgotten. He touched it with the fingers of his other hand, made as if he was going to take it off. He twisted the metal around his finger, feeling the cold as it changed positions. Closed his eyes. Opened them to the scars crisscrossing his palm.
The tears were back. He crumpled against the wall, sobbing openly into his hands as he sat on winter chilled pavement. He had never been sure how it had happened. How he and Dave had found each other. How they'd gone from something like being best friends to being something deeper than lovers. They'd fallen so hard and so quickly that it was almost cataclysmic. Dave came home one day and the next he never left.
It was a whirlwind. They got lost in each other. Completely and selfishly. One night they gave themselves to each other in blood, body and soul, binding their hearts together forever more. They got each other rings, called each other husband, slept and ate and breathed and moved and lived, all together as one. There were bumps along the way. Their course was often rocky, they needed so much that it was impossible for them to give enough. But always, always it survived. And always it was stronger. Until...
Dave stopped. He didn't say a word about it, just stopped. They got to Japan and Dave started getting his own room. Sat between Nate and Chris at dinner. Taylor tried to talk to him, but he always found a way to escape. Taylor figured Dave needed space. After all Mimi, Taylor's famous (for the tattoo of her name Taylor had gotten and not from her own merit) ex-girlfriend, had joined them on tour to spend time with Nate's girl, Jessie. Taylor let that be the reason, that Mimi was putting stress on their relationship. Even though neither of them had really spoken to her.
Shows came and went. Taylor had only light conversation with Dave. His I love yous had gone unreturned. They had barely touched, nothing more than pats on the back as they made their way off stage. And finally Taylor couldn't take it anymore. The separation was making him lose his mind. He cornered Dave after the show in Tokyo, demanded to know what was going on.
Dave told him things had changed. That he had changed. They weren't the same anymore. Then he pushed Taylor away.
That's how Taylor ended up walking the streets alone at night, Tokyo rising up around him. To Taylor, those few words, the simple action of shoving him out of the way, Dave might as well have punched him in the stomach. He was winded, caught just seconds before hyperventilating into sobs. He had blinked, stumbling outside, just walking without direction. And now was here. Nine floors away from the other half of his heart. From arms he needed to hold him together. But they only wanted to keep him away.
It had been some time since Taylor had started crying and his head was throbbing from it. His cheeks were raw and his eyes bloodshot and puffy, everything felt cold and chapped in the night air. He managed to haul himself to his feet and go inside. He got in the elevator, rode up in a haze. He practically dragged himself down the hall to his room, fumbled for his keycard, kept sliding it through the lock the wrong way. After the third try he punched the heavy wood door and swore, fresh tears blossoming on his face.
The door opened.
Dave was standing inside Taylor's room. For a minute Taylor thought he had the wrong door, blinking and staring, reading the number on the room to the left. Nine thirteen. Dave's room. He swallowed.
"Hi." Dave's voice was rough, almost sleepy. His eyes were dark. Haunted.
Taylor sighed and tried to hold back the tears about to skim over the edges of his eyelids. "Hi." His own voice was raspier than usual, thin. "What are you doing here?"
Dave took a breath through his nose. Taylor heard it rather than saw. His hands trembled. He wanted to touch the dark skin of Dave's cheek, feel his fingers sinking into wild, thick hair. He wanted to remember that Dave was real.
"Couldn't sleep," Dave said finally. "Couldn't find you."
"I was walking," Taylor answered noncommittally.
"It's, like, four AM."
There was a pause. Dave looked away. "I didn't know where you were."
"What the fuck do you care?" Taylor's voice rose so fast Dave flinched. He shoved past Dave and slammed the door behind him. "I'm surprised you even fucking noticed."
Dave didn't speak. Just stood there dumbly, an unreadable expression on his face.
"You see this?" Taylor practically shouted, shucking his jacket and holding up his hand. "Fucking see? I can't even take the fucking thing off." He was seething, the wetness of his face from anger, eyes flashing. "I fucking can't."
"Then don't," Dave said. "Don't." And Taylor noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash, and he looked down to see Dave's thumb turning his own ring. His matching ring.
"Why?" Taylor asked suddenly, his voice wounded again. "Why can't you love me anymore?"
"I wish I could."
"It's the truth." And silence. Taylor exhaled roughly. "It's just different."
"It's not!" Taylor's volume was back. "Nothing is different. I love you. I love you so much. Please don't do this."
"No, shut up," Taylor had his hands on Dave's arms. "Tell me you love me. I know you do. Tell me. Tell me."
Taylor let go. He stepped numbly, crossing the room, collapsing on the bed like he'd been shot. The world spun down, dust particles froze in midair, the soundtrack was emptiness. Taylor stopped seeing, just stared. Saline dripped onto his jeans. He felt his heart, still stubbornly beating, and he willed it to stop.
"I love you."
Heat and breath and thickness of voice in his ear and everything snapped back into place so quickly that he felt his stomach drop out. Dave's lips against the side of his face and he cried, Dave's arms around him and he thought he was dreaming. And he was flat on his back with Dave's tongue at his throat and he knew he was dead. Or dying. He made every sound as if it were his last and when Dave's fingers warmed his skin and his nails made little ruts in the flesh, when they were pushed up together and inside and moving in a rhythm that they had laid down long ago, it felt right. Right and comfortable and safe and perfect.
Except this time, for the first time in forever, Taylor cried when he came, tears spilling over his temples into his hair. And he could feel wetness blooming against his skin as Dave pressed his face against Taylor's neck. As soon as he could breathe, and even before, Taylor began chanting, I love you, I love you, as his pulse pounded in his ears, I love you, I love you, I love you. Even as Dave moved away from him, rolled off the bed, I love you. When Dave said I'm sorry in reply, he still said it. Kept saying it as Dave pulled on his jeans, disappeared into the dark. Said I love you to the crack of light that widened as Dave opened the door. Said I love you to the naked, retreating back still creased with marks from Taylor's fingers. To the backside of the wooden door.
He would spend the rest of the night awake, wondering if the apology was for leaving or for coming back at all.
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It's your sis, but I have no blurty. Balls. And that mad ancing freak (you know the one) wouldn't let me use his! |
Good story. Totally saw the symbolism... Dave just quit. For no reason. Oi.
It makes me sad...
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