#I wonder if Abby would be sad seeing the withereds | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robertisbisexual · 6 years

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horita prompt: will gets his memory, paul gets scared, will chooses him anyway

It’s on a otherwise boring Tuesday that Paul’s world falls apart. He probably should have known better than to be hopeful - even if the last couple months had been some of the best of his life - and he certainly knows he shouldn’t have let himself go and fall in love again. He most definitely knew he shouldn’t have fallen in love with Will Horton but Paul tended to lead with his heart and not his head and so it happened anyways.

But even knowing all of that none of it makes hearing Adrienne excitedly telling Justin how wonderful it is that Will’s got his memory back any easier and it certainly doesn’t make the view through the window of Sonny and Will kissing hurt less. But Paul’s already begged someone to love him once and he doesn’t think he can do it a second time. So he leaves the roses, gas station bought and a running joke between them, on a table in the square. Maybe someone else will find a use for them, he doesn’t seem to need them anymore.

It’s an pretty uneventful walk back to their - well his apartment. They’d unofficially officially moved into Paul’s room a month or so back but he didn’t imagine that would be a thing anymore. He’s grateful he doesn’t run into anyone though, he’s not really sure he could have handle the conversation this soon.

Stepping into the room though he’s knocked off balance at just how much it actually hurts to see the vivid reminders that he’s lost everything again, that Salem has taken another thing from him.

He thinks maybe he should leave it.

He packs together a quick overnight bag, figures he’ll stay in his car. Maybe rummage through the case files back at work see if he can find something or someone to stakeout, anything to keep him out of the building. He knows himself well enough to know he won’t be able to handle Will’s big sad eyes as he attempts to explain why they can’t be.

A small part of Paul had at least hoped when this day came that Will would dump him first but .. well perhaps he was naive to think they wouldn’t hurt him this way. It’s not as if Sonny had really give a shit about his feelings for the last six months anyways. At the door he pauses to look back at the orchid, still pride of place on his bedside table, and feels something crack opening inside his chest. It’s cold and it’s miserable and it’s almost funny to Paul - in a perverse way - but he thinks this might hurt more than when Sonny dumped him to go find apparently not actually dead Will.

Maybe this is his punishment for keeping Will to himself for those two weeks after he found him.

Maybe Salem just hates him.

The problem with a place like Salem is that no matter where he goes, he can’t seem to find a private or quiet moment. Everyone’s heard the great news and wants to celebrate.

And it is great news. Will being happy? Will remembering his family? It’s fantastic news. All he wants is for Will to feel loved, happy, and safe. It would just be nice if someone could be bothered to remember that Paul’s entire world just got shattered again. He’s not surprised by any means that they don’t but it would have still been nice.

Abby and Chad are the first people he runs into or more accurately run into him. He’d been carrying a beer back to a corner table in the pub onto to collide with Chad halfway there. They’re full of laughter and excitement, apologetic for the mess. He tries to wave it off. Tries to just keep going to his spot but their joy for their friends storybook ending outweighs their ability to see he’s hurting.

Chad even offers to buy him a drink in celebration and Paul figures it’s the look of absolute disbelief on his face that finally clues them both in.

“Paul - we’re sorry..”

It’s Abby who breaks the awkward tension and Paul feels whatever cracked open in his chest earlier twist inside him, eroding away and all the parts of Paul that would usually just accept this. It turns ugly.

“No, I imagine you’re actually probably not.”

He doesn’t bother to wait, just sets his empty glass on the table and weaves his way between tables and to the front door. He can heard Chad say something behind him but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

He tries the club next and in hindsight that’s a rookie mistake on his part. Lucas had been there gushing to Chloe about finally having his son back. That things can finally go back to how they’re supposed to be. It’s yet another reminder that Paul’s the anomaly. The interloper that ruined the epic romance that is Sonny and Will.

It takes them a few moments to realize they have a customer at the counter and Paul’s almost impressed at how little Lucas seems bothered that it’s Paul. Found his son and his girlfriend and he can’t even look sorry for Paul.

That thing inside Paul rears its head again. “You’ve had your son back for months.”

“l -”

He shrugs off whatever Lucas was about to say and gives up on finding somewhere in this hellhole of a town to drink.

He’s queued in line, wanting a coffee to take with him on the stakeout.

“Now they can finally be happy again. They can put all the bad behind them and look forward to the future, they deserve this more than anyone after everything they’ve been through.” Hope’s voice, she’s standing at the counter with Rafe and Ciara.

Her comments are met by a murmur of agreement and Paul manages to slip back out of the cafe without being seen.

It’s hours later when he finally finds himself back in front of the flower shop eyes tracing the closed sign on the front door. He’d been a dozen places today and it all ended the same way. Everyone celebrating for the happy couple and no one sparing even a single second of their time to him. He’d long since stopped interjecting though, what was the point?

“Son?”

He closes his eyes against the voice, and against the building that had meant more to him than he realized, before sighing and eventually turning around to face Marlena and his father.

“Are you alright?” John says gently.

“What.” its flat, less a question and more a statement of disbelief.

“You look upset” Marlena explains. Her smile tinged with sadness and Paul figures a bit of pity.

The hurt and the anger that had been trying to claw its way free all day is rattling around again and this time Paul doesn’t fight against it.

"You dont say.”

“Pa-”

“No.” Its louder than he meant, cutting his dad off. His pain breaking out in that one word. His shout draws the attention of other people in the square. Jennifer and Eric by the pub entrance. Hope and Ciara holding coffees and chatting. Gabi and Ari further back on the bench. They’re all looking at him now and he finds he doesn’t care. He’s tired of all of it.

“I don’t want anyone’s pity and I don’t want your fake sympathy. Everyone gets what they want right? What they’ve wanted for months now? So don’t - don’t offer words you don’t mean”

He trails off, drags a hand through his hair, and takes a step back from his family, needing the space like some sort of barrier against everything. His unhappiness on display for everyone to see.

“You’re meant to be my stepmom and you’ve never cared about my feelings over Sonny’s in this once. You’ve never cared about my feelings at all.” He turns his attention to the rest of them, his gaze flitting across from one to the next. “None of you did. Not even now. All anyone could talk about was the return of the epic love story and you couldn’t be bothered to shut up about even when I was in the room… if you even bothered to notice me at all. Because I don’t belong here so I? I’ll never truly be a part of this town and frankly? I don’t want to be anymore.”

He turned his gaze away and found himself looking at the flower shop again and felt his heart fracture again. It was nice, while it lasted, to have someone care back.

“Paul.”

He flinches at his name this time because it’s not Marlena and it’s not his father. In fact it’s not any of the people who stood and watched him start to lose it. This is worse because this time it’s Will.

He spares a glance and feels whatever small sliver of hope he had left wither at the sight of Sonny over Will’s shoulder. So he turns his attention back to his dad even as he starts walking backwards “I took a case from the pile. “

“Paul wait.”

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

He’s nearly to edge of the square, if he can make the park he can literally sprint away from his troubles.

So he does exactly that.

He’s gone for eight days. He’d solved the case in two, sent his dad the information, and then stayed gone. Will had called one a day, every day he was gone. Paul had ignored every call and deleted every voicemail without listening to it. He didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want explanations. He just wanted to forget everything about it. He’d known better, he had, and that was the worst part. No one was more to blame for the current situation that Paul himself.

He’d known anything to do with Will would have the potential for heartbreak. That it was messy and a stupid idea and he’d done it anyways. But there had just been something about Will so he’d let it happen. Running away in front of everyone like that had been melodramatic, especially when they’d never even said I love you, but facing it all head on has been too big a task in the moment.

So he’d been gone for eight days and come to the decision that he couldn’t stay in Salem anymore. Which was why he’d quietly come back to the town and quickly packed up the most important stuff he had into a suitcase and was making his way back across the square hoping no one would stop him. He almost made it too when the door to New Beginnings flew open and his name was shouted across the Square.

“Paul Narita if you take one more step so help me god.”

Pursing his lips he took a calming breath before turning around to look across the square at a visibly angry Will standing in the shops doorway.

“You disappear for eight days and then skulk back in and out of town? Ignore my calls? I don’t get the decency of a response?”

Will seemed to be offended and Paul wasn’t sure if the urge to laugh was general amusement of the edges of hysteria.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Liar.” Will snapped.

Paul could feel eyes on him. Knew they were causing a scene. So be it then.

“You kissed him.”

“So that’s it. You just give up? Superhero Paul rolls over and plays dead?”

Paul was almost always calm. Almost always controlled and the few times he wasn’t it wasn’t any big display of temper. It was a quiet fury he would exude on most days but not this time. This time it was loud and showy and he didn’t give a damn.

“Give up? Give up!? Why is it always up to me? Why do I always have to beg someone to pick me?” He slammed his suitcase to the ground and pointed a finger across the square at Will. “You can fuck off Will Horton. You made me trust you. You made me care about you and then you didn’t even have the decency to dump me before kissing him"

Will was already stalking across the square before Paul had even finished speaking only to pull up short at Paul’s accusation.

“I didn’t kiss him.”

“I saw it.” Paul shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “I stood there and I watched it happen through the window while listening to people gush about you two. I’m not going to beg for your affection. I’m tired of fighting for people who don’t want me.”

Paul hardened himself against the sadness Will practically radiated, the other man had made his choice. Snatching up his suitcase again he turned and started to storm off.

“I love you, you stubborn stupid idiot.”

It froze him in his tracks. He could hear the murmur of voice around his as the people watching them reacted to Will’s shouted confusion.

“He kissed me. He showed up so excited because he’d heard I remembered everything and I had but I’d been looking for you at the store and before I could explain that he’d kissed me. I told him no and we argued and I just wanted to find you but I couldn’t. I tried your room and the office and then I finally found you here and you just… left. Without a word.”

Paul turned back slowly, eyes wide, and a face of confusion.

“I tried calling you, I wanted to explain.”

“You told him no?”

The incredulous look on Will’s face was almost funny. “That’s your only take away? That’s all you have to say? You’re an asshole,you know that?”

“You really picked me?” For the first time in eight days Paul smiled. A smile so big and so pure it lit his whole face up. “You love me?”

Will’s irritation with him melted away instantly and he took a hesitant step towards Paul only for Paul to close the gap between them and wrap his arms tightly around Will’s waist. Will’s arms went around Paul’s neck as Paul buried his face in the crook of Will’s.

“I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”

"It’s okay, we all have bad days.”

Paul laughed happily before pulling back slightly so he could brush a light kiss across Will’s lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“I’m sorry you thought I didn’t want you.” Will leaned in and Paul took the hint kissing him him again, this time with more force.

Paul let himself be pulled back towards the flower shop unable to stop smiling as warmth chased away all the hurt he’d had for the past week. “Will.”

“Yeah?” he glanced back over his shoulder

“I love you.”

Will’s answering smile is beautiful.

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thclcstgirl · 7 years

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idk what the fuck this is. blame lor. I blame lor for all my problems, especially this one lmao

She’s not hesitating for the right reasons. She knows that. She’s not hesitant to yank the lever because it will end lives, she’s hesitant because the last time she made a decision it went horribly awry. She’d kept the bomb to herself, she’d entrusted Lexa to know what to do. She had expected a quiet evacuation, hell, even a loud evacuation. She’d expected Lexa to care more about her people than Clarke’s and get her people out of harms way.

She did value her people more than Clarke’s, as it turned out. But Clarke wouldn’t learn that until she was standing cold and alone outside a fortified bunker.

Instead, Lexa had told her to run, to leave her people in the village and let them die.

She wanted to say she followed Lexa because she thought she could convince her to reconsider. And she had hoped that she’d be able to. But she knew she wouldn’t. Lexa wasn’t a person who reconsidered. No, Clarke followed because Lexa knew what she was doing; she’d been trained from a young age to make these decisions, she’d been making them for longer than Clarke probably even thought. And she was still living, her people still thriving ( if you didn’t count the ones caught in the mountain ). That’s what made her trace Lexa’s footsteps as they slunk out in the middle of the arrivals. It was only her mother that made her reconsider her own decision. She could leave Kane, she could even leave Octavia ( Bellamy would never need to know the truth of what happened ), but she couldn’t leave her mom.

Her mom was on the operating table now, her face screwed up in pain as she screamed. The last time she’d spoken to her mom she’d been so disappointed in her. Her own willingness to sacrifice her people had changed something in her mom’s eyes when she looked at Clarke, and Clarke didn’t like it. She’d been a stranger to her mother the last time they spoke, because she’d made the wrong decision in Abby’s eyes.

Was this the right decision? Would she make her mother proud this time? Murdering the entire mountain but saving her people, some of the same people she’d been willing to let die in TonDC? Would this be amends to her mother?

Bellamy was speaking but she wasn’t listening to him, her eyes were on her mother and the people her mother had wanted to spare. “I have to save them.” She needed her mother to love her again. She couldn’t be a stranger to her. She needed her.

A hand covers her and she finally tears her eyes from the screen to meets Bellamy’s dark, anguished ones. “Together.” He was hesitant, and she had no doubt he was for the right reasons. Bellamy cared, so much… too much. He wanted his people to live and he wanted the innocents of the mountain to live as well. To kill either set was going to kill him a little. But he was willing. To lose his people would kill him more, and he knew it.

They pulled it together, the resistance more than they’d expected and the lever seemed to move in slow motion. But once the warning sirens started, it seemed like everything happened in seconds. Before she’d even taken her hand off the lever, people were collapsing, reaching for their throats and gasping for breath. She took a breath, bringing herself back to the moment, dragging her eyes from the full sized screen of dead bodies ( it was TonDC all over again, except no one was left alive this time ) to the door. Emerson was gone. She didn’t need the screens to tell her that. He had nothing left here. He was outnumbered now.

“Let’s go get our people.” I hope this is what you would have wanted me to choose, mom.

She felt for Jasper, she did. Maya had been… well not a friend, not to her, but a friend to the delinquents, and even more to Jasper. But she wasn’t sorry, and he knew it. She didn’t insult him by saying she was; and didn’t bother telling Bellamy not to try to reason with him. You couldn’t reason with someone in mourning in the moment. She’d been crazed and inconsolable when her father had been floated; she all too clearly ( or more to the point, didn’t remember anything clearly ) the rage and the hopelessness that had flooded her system that day. Instead, she pushed them forward to the harvest chamber.

She needed to see her mom. She needed her to know this was Clarke’s apology to her.

She saw her first thing when she walked in the room and no one else mattered. Bellamy would take care of the others; it was what he did. He’d scan, head count ( she wondered if Octavia would tell him about Fox, save her the trouble. She hadn’t been able to while they were planning, it would just distract him. And now… she was too tired to deal with more grief ), make sure everyone was alive and leave her free to beg her mother for forgiveness.

Her mom’s arms around her were tight and she felt the tears building, though they didn’t fall yet. She held her mom until finally she had to pull away, had to plead with her eyes and her words both. “I tried.” She swallowed against the tears. “I tried to be the good guy.” Like you wanted. I did better this time, didn’t I? I saved them instead of left them? People died but… the right people this time, right?

Her mother’s eyes forgave her, and she felt herself go limp with relief. “Maybe there are no good guys.” It wasn’t complete absolution, but she’d take it.

The walk home was the worst. Long, hot, their injured being carried, people constantly wanting to talk. About everything. Talk about the mountain, the grounders, Lexa, TonDC, Bellamy, the kids, Cage and Wallace. Some people even congratulated her, like killing the residents of Mount Weather was something to be proud of. After a while she just slowed her steps, fell to the back of the line, distracted herself with keeping an eye out for danger from the back line, distanced herself from anyone that would want to talk to her. She was careful to stay out of sight from Bellamy; he liked to think he could read her, and honestly he could sometimes, better than she liked. He’d realize something was wrong, and she didn’t want him to. Not yet. They had to get home first.

She watched the others walk through the gate of Camp Jaha, wanting to smile at the reunions happening, but her lips wouldn’t move. Monty had been trailing too, weighed down by a decision that hadn’t even really been his. She’d put that weight on him, she’d made him help her murder an entire bunker of people. He hugged her, talked of finding Harper and she nodded almost eagerly, encouraging that. Anything to get his mind off what they’d done and off of her.

“I think we deserve a drink.” He was bound to come find her eventually. Still her lips wouldn’t move right. She knew he wanted her to smile, to laugh like they had on Unity Day. But she had nothing left to give him.

“Have fun for me.” She managed.

“Hey.” His voice was serious, trying to draw her back to him. “We can get through this.”

She didn’t want to ‘get through this’. She didn’t want anything to do with ‘this’. She’d already done enough, too much. She didn’t want to be here, wallowing and trying to pretend like what she’d done was a good thing, like she’d done this for selfless reasons. She didn’t want the talking, the congratulations, the discussions. She just wanted to be gone. “I’m not going in.”

“Clarke, if you need forgiveness, I’ll give you that.” It was the same thing she’d said to him when the weight of his decisions, the weight of the lives lost because of him, threatened to crush him. The parroting of those words, the meaning of them, wasn’t lost on her. “You’re forgiven.” Except that she didn’t want forgiveness. He did. He needed to be the good guy, he tried so hard to be the good guy. All she wanted was a clean slate. Those people for these. These people for those. It was all just an attempt to balance her decisions, balances paid in lives sacrificed. Lives she chose to sacrifice. And she didn’t want forgiveness. She just wanted to forget. “Please come inside.” He was desperate, and it makes her wince. He wanted so badly to think she was like him. He would stay, he’d grieve and mourn but he’d be comforted by the lives they’d saved, the rest of the delinquents that meant so much to him without him meaning them to. He’d be fine here. She’d wither.

“Take care of them for me.” You’ve always been better at that anyway.

“Clarke-“ she didn’t want to hear his arguments, and she cut him off, turning tear-filled eyes to him, knowing the signs of emotion would stop him in his tracks. It was a cheap shot, using tears against him. But she needed him to hear her.

“Seeing their faces everyday… it’s just going to remind me of what I did to get them here.” And how I only did it to make my mother proud.

“What we did.” He’s even more desperate, and while it cuts her, it doesn’t weaken her resolve. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

No, she thought bitterly, you don’t want to do this alone. He needed her logic, her pragmatism, without her he risked falling into his emotions too hard. She was his balance, and she knew it. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be his shoulder, she couldn’t do the late nights talking about what they’d done together and the guilt that would weigh him down so much more obviously than it would her. She couldn’t be his strength.

“I bear it so they don’t have to.” It’s what Dante had said. And it was bullshit. She and Dante bore nothing. He was dead. She was escaping. They were leaving their pain behind, but they were leaving their people behind alive ( or so Dante had thought before his death ). But it was the selfless thing to say, the thing Bellamy would understand if he gave it time, and that’s what she offered him.

He’s confused, sad, pleading. “Where are you gonna go?” No matter where she says, they both know it isn’t safe. But she doesn’t care. And he cares too much.

“I don’t know.” She’d figure it out. She had to leave; any longer and her mother would see her, want to talk to her, want her to come inside as she’s tended to. So she presses a kiss to his dirty cheek, wraps her arms around the boy she’d led alongside, the boy who’d risked everything for his people- her included- in order to leave him. “May we meet again.” She whispered, giving him hope. Hope she had no intention of fulfilling. If she got away, she wasn’t coming back. Not soon, not ever.

She pulled away and turned to go, feeling the absence of him in her arms like a fire that suddenly went out in the night, leaving her sitting in the dark without any warmth. But there was a comfort in the cold. Maybe if she grew cold enough, she’d stop feeling altogether. Her steps are hesitant at first, wondering if he’d chase her, grab her, stop her physically. He was always so physical. But step after step fell against the dirt and still she was free. She felt her shoulders straighten, felt a lightness in her chest she wasn’t familiar with.

Freedom.

He was letting her go. She had all the time and the entire continent in front of her to escape her decisions. Let the adults do their jobs for once. Let Lexa live with the consequences of her actions.

Clarke was removing herself from the narrative.

#drabble #one time engagement muse: clarke fucking griffin #you read that right people #it's a drabble #me as clarke #this is happening

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