Stuck on You
Apr. 25th, 2014 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dirtywhiteboy in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
birthright_rpgAlbuquerque, five months ago
He didn't know why he was waiting. All the signs were there that she was the one, and she burned so bright that he couldn't stop staring at her. He could barely sleep during the day anymore. So why was he waiting? If he wasn't going to do it, he should move on.
You don't want to be wrong again.
Ruben's fingers tightened around the coffee cup in front of him, and the dead thing inside his chest might have clenched. Whoever the voice belonged to, whether it was God or the devil or the nameless entity that had taken him over once his heart stopped beating, they were right. He was no womanizer, but there had been others over the decades, and he'd always been wrong. He'd been what he was for nearly sixty years, much longer than he'd been a living man. Maybe he was meant to walk the earth alone.
"You want anything else?"
He looked up, and there she was again. The pink uniform was the tackiest thing he'd seen in years. Her hair was pinned up. Grace. Her name was Grace. How could that not be a sign? The name tag on her rayon lapel was like a beacon. He'd apologized to her for telling her he loved her, had backed off because he knew humans did things differently. He had yet to move on, though.
"More coffee, if'n ya don't mind. And I'd like to talk to ya. Got a break soon?"
She stiffened, shot him a look as she poured black coffee from the pot she held. Her expression wasn't precisely uncomfortable, but he knew he was on thin ice. Thin-fingered hands spread out in front of him, and the dead thing did that weird thing again. "Please?"
Silence, then; "I'm gonna take a smoke in ten minutes. Drink your coffee. And don't tell me you love me again."
Ruben's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes'm. I'll behave myself this time."
He watched her walk away, noting that she'd smiled back. He saw something divine in the fleeting expression, something that reminded him of those brief moments when he'd hovered between life and death. Having woken up on the other side of the grave, he no longer believed in God, but he'd touched the face of something while he was lying in that rain-drenched ditch.
He returned to his coffee, took a swig of it. He wasn't wrong this time. He felt it in his bones.
He didn't know why he was waiting. All the signs were there that she was the one, and she burned so bright that he couldn't stop staring at her. He could barely sleep during the day anymore. So why was he waiting? If he wasn't going to do it, he should move on.
You don't want to be wrong again.
Ruben's fingers tightened around the coffee cup in front of him, and the dead thing inside his chest might have clenched. Whoever the voice belonged to, whether it was God or the devil or the nameless entity that had taken him over once his heart stopped beating, they were right. He was no womanizer, but there had been others over the decades, and he'd always been wrong. He'd been what he was for nearly sixty years, much longer than he'd been a living man. Maybe he was meant to walk the earth alone.
"You want anything else?"
He looked up, and there she was again. The pink uniform was the tackiest thing he'd seen in years. Her hair was pinned up. Grace. Her name was Grace. How could that not be a sign? The name tag on her rayon lapel was like a beacon. He'd apologized to her for telling her he loved her, had backed off because he knew humans did things differently. He had yet to move on, though.
"More coffee, if'n ya don't mind. And I'd like to talk to ya. Got a break soon?"
She stiffened, shot him a look as she poured black coffee from the pot she held. Her expression wasn't precisely uncomfortable, but he knew he was on thin ice. Thin-fingered hands spread out in front of him, and the dead thing did that weird thing again. "Please?"
Silence, then; "I'm gonna take a smoke in ten minutes. Drink your coffee. And don't tell me you love me again."
Ruben's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes'm. I'll behave myself this time."
He watched her walk away, noting that she'd smiled back. He saw something divine in the fleeting expression, something that reminded him of those brief moments when he'd hovered between life and death. Having woken up on the other side of the grave, he no longer believed in God, but he'd touched the face of something while he was lying in that rain-drenched ditch.
He returned to his coffee, took a swig of it. He wasn't wrong this time. He felt it in his bones.