Lar ||| RPF

the silence is deafening
by Lar

EMAIL: HERE
RATING: R
PAIRING: Jeffrey Dean Morgan
DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, because the "F" in RPF stands for FICTION
SUMMARY: Not enough drinking to forget.
A/N: for wyoluvr Prompts: JDM and:

And I've been drinkin' now
Just a little too much
And I don't know how
I can get in touch with you
Now there's only one thing
for me to do, that's to
To get home to you

---

The bottle's more than half empty and he still can't pick up the phone. Instead he stares at the floor where the note lies in torn pieces. He can see bits of words on the ones that landed face up, a squiggle of blue ink here, a stroke of curved letter there. It all adds up to shit anyway, and so he takes another drink and lets the glass get warm in his hand.

Stares as the droplets gather on the glass, tells himself that it's not a binge. If it was a goddamn binge, then would he have bothered with ice? No, he fucking well would not have bothered with ice. Or a glass, for that matter. A binge is all about a bottle and a lot of forgetting. This isn't forgetting. This isn't even in the neighborhood of forgetting.

As he stares at the papers, the droplets meld together, slide down the glass, fall to the floor. The soft arc of that blue-inked curve turns into a smudge of nothing, obliterated by the water drop from his glass.

Every rattle of the melting ice in the glass is the sound of the phone not ringing. No, this isn't a binge. He's not forgetting.

-end


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