Goodbye

Goodbye

Posted: April 2005
Title: Goodbye
Author: Naresha
Fandom: Real Person Fiction
Genre: RPS
Characters: Marton/Orlando
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and it is not intended to cause insult or offence to the persons referred to herein.
Warnings: Implied homosexual relationships.
Beta: Inwë Sáralondë
Summary: Goodbye is hard to say, but some things are even harder.
Author's Notes: Each section is a drabble. First section is Orlando, second is Marton etc. Thanks to the lovely Inwë Sáralondë for the beta, despite it being RPS!

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They say that it's better to have loved and lived or loved and lost or whatever the heck the first part of it is, than never to have loved at all.

Well I have loved, and I have lost; and now, I don't know how to live.

I had always known that we would have to say goodbye, yet I never thought it would be farewell. Our time together was never supposed to pass so quickly. Our hearts were supposed to remain tied; somehow we were supposed to remain faithful to one another.

We were supposed to remain in love.

***

I never wanted to say goodbye. Three years was a long time to throw away. But the end came. It came hard. So much harder than it was supposed to.

I remember holding his hand and looking into his eyes. It hurt to look at him. I had to close my eyes as I said goodbye. We had spent every possible moment together, so to turn around and not see him again was almost impossible.

I knew he didn't believe my words. He did not believe me. Long ago I had lied and since then, he no longer trusted me.

***

He had once whispered in my ear that what we had was forever. A love that would last a lifetime. He lied. I had lived a three-year lie with this man. A man who spoke sweet nothings in my ear every night. But they meant nothing to him. They were only words.

I relished the feel of his hands on me. So soft, yet so mature. All I had ever wanted was in this man. Yet he lied to me. He abused my trust and made me believe his words... lies...

He made it all seem so real, perfection personified.

***

We were supposed to be forever.

I promised him forever. I promised him a lifetime of happiness in my arms. Yet I could not keep my promise. I failed, and my promise became a lie. I could see the pain and disappointment in his eyes and it burned me to my very core.

I tried to explain; I tried to apologise, but he would not listen. And so I cried. I cried every night after he said goodbye, singing a dark song of lament in my heart. Every day I picked up the phone, but could never dial the numbers.

***

I kept staring at my phone, willing it to ring, willing him to call me and make amends. But it never happened. He never tried to make it up to me, never tried to get me back. Never tried to do any of those things. All I ever wanted was in this man and he did not care two cents for me.

Every day I looked at that photo, the one from the party, when we were barely a couple, sitting close enough to hear only each other.

Sometimes I thought about ripping up that photo. But I never could.

***

A photo is worth a lot more than a thousand words. I had few photos around me, choosing to keep most in albums. But I always kept the one from that party beside my bed in a silver frame.

The one where I was looking at his lips and smiling.

The one where my fingers brushed his.

The photo taken at the party we first told everyone. I always smiled when I saw that photo. It was the happiest moment of my life. I had found real love. And it was returned three-fold. I wanted to relive that photo forever.

***

Our goodbyes were so hard to survive. Even harder was when our eyes locked that first time, at that first night of the first film. A few hours seemed like a lifetime. I smiled at that thought; it had seemed that way when we had been happily together. Funny how something so sweet could suddenly become so sour.

We never said hello and we tried not to see one another. But we couldn't help it. We suffered through with forced smiles and underhanded jokes. I tried to remain poised, but at the same time, I hoped he saw my pain.

***

I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. They were so pained, so tired. I wanted to leave, wanted to run away. But, at the same time, I wanted to ask him why, to tell him it got better. But even if I had the courage, I couldn't have, for I didn't believe it myself.

Wherever I went, I could see him. I seemed to gravitate to where I could see him. It pained me, how hard it was to make it through that night. I wanted to hold him, wanted to do something to make it all better.

***

Everywhere. He was everywhere that night. Talking to an interviewer behind me, signing an autograph for a fan across the red carpet. He was just everywhere... I didn't want to see him, didn't want to be near him, yet somehow I could not escape him that whole night.

I couldn't tell who followed whom. Did I unconsciously follow him, or was it him trying to get to me? I didn't want it to be either. I wanted to be alone, or at least not in the same place as he was. Yet I couldn't help but steal the odd glance.

***

I didn't even realise he was looking at me, not until someone pointed it out. The sneaky glances he cast when we were in the same vicinity. It made me uncomfortable, yet it made me hopeful as well. I had no way of telling what thoughts or feelings lay behind those brief looks through sight alone. But I could not find the courage to go and ask. The night had yielded little more than a frosty reception and that single forced meeting. I looked away, flicking tears from my eye and wondering if he hurt as much as I did.

***

It had to have been planned. There was no other way to explain how we ended up next to one another in that dark theatre. Stuck there, people moving around us, stepping over us, pinning me to the seat. I could not move. For three hours I was all but glued to the same seat - the seat next to him. My skin prickled with sweat as I tried to ignore him. But I could not ignore the fingers that slid something into mine. He wanted me to look at him, but I couldn't. I couldn't even look in my hand.

***

I knew it was stupid. I knew I shouldn't do it. But there he was, sitting next to me... This could be the last chance I'd get to say anything in any way... So I took it. I almost didn't expect him to stay. I kept expecting him to jump up and leave. I certainly didn't expect him to open it and read what I had managed to scrawl in the darkened theatre. I sat there, looking at him out of the corner of my eye, still too scared to do anything more. I swallowed hard and sat silently hopeful.

***

I didn't even move my hand as he somehow pushed the slip of folded paper into it. For the longest time I did not move at all, the rumpled paper burning my palm. I drew several deep, silent breaths before moving my hand into my lap and unfurling my fingers. But still I could not bring myself to open it, bring myself to read what message the familiar script spelled out.

The sights and sounds that filled the theatre faded as I opened the note. Two and a half words... Not even ten letters, yet it spoke volumes...

'I'm sorry.'

*****

THE END

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