Categories > Original > Drama > Goodbyes Are Never Good.
Talk Show Drama (Part 2!)
0 reviewsPart two of the talk show drama. Its the girl who broke his heart three years ago, but he doesnt' know it! Will he find out by the end?!
0Unrated
He was not aware of who it actually was. She had, by society's standards, a questionable taste in clothing, but he was not one to judge on that. He used to be. He used to be a lot of things he wasn't anymore. A large cowl was draped over her head, covering her hair and face. Three or four layers of clothing - he couldn't quite tell - of mix-matched styles and colors. He thought she must have been extremely hot in that kind of outfit.
He watched her come towards the stage. She seemed ready to faint the way she walked. He found himself wondering how his book managed to help her. She appeared young, even with the layers of clothing on, he was able to notice her youth. He wondered how nervous she was. She shook hands with the hostess once she got on stage. He stood up from his chair and extended a hand.
She stared at the hand she had not seen for three long years. The hand that has, at one point or another, felt every inch of her body, and every second was a welcomed feeling, a needed feeling. A loved feeling. So much history, just upon his hands. What has she done? She wondered again whether she did the right thing. Something done can never be undone, no matter how much we wish.
Her eyes caught on the white flesh, just below the palm. Scar tissue. She knew instantly: he had attempted to end his life. She attempted, futilely, to convince herself that it was not because of her he did it, but she knew better. She knew him well enough. She nearly froze at the thought, but somehow managed not to let it show. She couldn't.
She extended her own gloved hand and shook his. She could not risk him remembering her touch, even if it killed her not to be able to feel him one more time. She was so close. It felt like red hot pokers were having their way with her emotions. The pain. The regret. The knowledge - and she believed it to be true, but whose the judge of such things? - that she did the right thing, in the end.
The three of them sat down, the hostess being the only one who wasn't nervous to some extent. The author was nervous from being on tv. He hated being in front of crowds. This felt so much worse. The girl who broke his heart, the girl that was sitting no farther away than ten feet, was ready to jump out of her skin. Or faint. Whichever came first.
"So, tell us your story," the hostess asked, targetting the girl in the chair. "We're anxious to hear it!"
She smiled, looking up at the hostess just enough for Him to see her smile before the cowl fell over her face. Something so familiar, but she changed it just enough to throw him off. So close, but not quite close enough. He knew what smile it looked like, he still dreamed of it often. He believed that he's just become so worn out that every smile will probably have a hint of his lost girl within it. His mind might finally be cracking from the strain of still holding on after three long years.
"Heh, well. The title had attracted me instantly. I picked it up before it was 'discovered', I'd guess you'd say. When it was just released. "Goodbyes Are Never Good" is such a great title, I must admit! And it helped me... I had broken up with a guy because I knew I wasn't healthy for him. He needed to be free, you know? And I was beating myself up over it, badly. I think the book saved me from a really dark time. I just... I felt like I was not the only one that was going through it, you know? And I could understand why I felt what I felt, and I had a chance to see what my ex might think - and it was nearly spot on. It helped me save him, too. So, I guess I owe you my life, and my ex's. I can't explain to you how much I love your book." She was quiet when she spoke, and he couldn't see what her eyes were doing as she talked, but at that point, he wasn't really thinking of her eyes. He was listening to her story, and he was surprisingly touched.
That glimmer of happiness returned again, slightly stronger. The candle flame of cheer. He smiled and his state of detattchement faltered slightly. He felt, to an incredibly small extent, more alive. It was subtle, minor, for all intents and purposes unnoticable to all but him, but it was far from insignificant.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. I'm not sure what to say, to be honest. When I was writing it, I never imagined I'd save a life with it. I'm..." His voice slipped without warning, showing emotion. Slightly choked, happy, touched. "I'm happy because it seems like I managed to make you happy. I never thought I'd be able to make anyone happy. I think my book can talk for me on that."
The crowd Awww'd and then burst into cheers and claps. The talk show went on. The hostess made everyone laugh, even her guests, the author and the fan. Like a talk show should go, only a bit more touching. The author couldn't quite explain why, but he felt warm towards the fan. He couldn't even explain what exactly he felt to himself. He knew it wasn't anywhere close to something that could resemble a liking... could it? All he knew is it felt different, and yet right, and familiar. So familiar. Like looking at yourself in the mirror, only with a rainbow of make-up on that you don't remember being there. Familiar, and yet alien. Strange, but good.
She was biting back everything that came to mind. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have came here. It did her no good, and he was oblivious. It did him no good, either. It would only do him harm if he realized. She wondered again why she did it. She either didn't understand or completely refused to recognize that she was indulging in her selfish side. It was all for her, but it just wasn't going right. She wanted more than anything to either be loved by him or far, far away with something able to distract her. Instead, she was ten feet away from her ex-love that was still her love, and he was oblivious.
The time finally ran out, as it always does. It runs and runs, and no matter what we do, and we can do anything - kick, scream, beg, plead, cry, bargain, deny - it'll get its way, because that is all it knows how. Time was never told "No" and therefor nothing can hold it back. The clock had run down, and the talk show came to a close. The fan and the hostess hugged like two school girls, one with true excitement, one with a false front. Guess who? Hint: it wasn't the hostess. And then the hostess hugged him, thanking him again for coming on her show and spending time talking - she knew how busy he was and was just so delighted that he spent time on her show, of all shows. She ended her hug with a kiss on the cheek, and the author just realized that the hostess could be considered relatively attractive. It had no affect on him. And then, it was the fan's turn to say goodbye. She didn't say a word, simply threw her arms around him and practically jumped into a hug with him. He was surprised at first, then let himself hug her back, tightly. Giving her a tight squeeze, like he used to do with his high school friends.
When the hostess had kissed his cheek, possibly just out of kindness, or maybe not, she couldn't deny that she felt raged. She felt insulted. He was her's. And then she felt ashamed, because he wasn't her's any longer. He hadn't been for three years. And then, when he hugged her back, she felt joy. At peace with everything. She caught herself about to whisper in his ear, as she'd done countless times when she was a teenager, "I love you." She managed to stop the whisper, even though it killed her inside, like taking a knife into her own heart. How could she deny herself? She made him unhappy when she left him. She made herself unhappy when she left him. Why did she do it? If she never would have left, they would both be happy. What's so wrong about being happy? She forced herself to stop thinking. To wipe her mind clean; chalkboard, meet eraser. Goodbye thinking. Just enjoy him hugging you.
He caught a glimpse of her eyes when the hug was broken. The same color as Her's. Nasty shock. He caught it and hit it below the surface before it showed; he did not want to offend his fan. Same exact eyes. Such a small world. He once again wondered whether his mind was cracking under the strain. He could be imagining her eyes were the same. It sounded logical. Believe it. There's bliss in hiding from the truth. There always is.
He watched her come towards the stage. She seemed ready to faint the way she walked. He found himself wondering how his book managed to help her. She appeared young, even with the layers of clothing on, he was able to notice her youth. He wondered how nervous she was. She shook hands with the hostess once she got on stage. He stood up from his chair and extended a hand.
She stared at the hand she had not seen for three long years. The hand that has, at one point or another, felt every inch of her body, and every second was a welcomed feeling, a needed feeling. A loved feeling. So much history, just upon his hands. What has she done? She wondered again whether she did the right thing. Something done can never be undone, no matter how much we wish.
Her eyes caught on the white flesh, just below the palm. Scar tissue. She knew instantly: he had attempted to end his life. She attempted, futilely, to convince herself that it was not because of her he did it, but she knew better. She knew him well enough. She nearly froze at the thought, but somehow managed not to let it show. She couldn't.
She extended her own gloved hand and shook his. She could not risk him remembering her touch, even if it killed her not to be able to feel him one more time. She was so close. It felt like red hot pokers were having their way with her emotions. The pain. The regret. The knowledge - and she believed it to be true, but whose the judge of such things? - that she did the right thing, in the end.
The three of them sat down, the hostess being the only one who wasn't nervous to some extent. The author was nervous from being on tv. He hated being in front of crowds. This felt so much worse. The girl who broke his heart, the girl that was sitting no farther away than ten feet, was ready to jump out of her skin. Or faint. Whichever came first.
"So, tell us your story," the hostess asked, targetting the girl in the chair. "We're anxious to hear it!"
She smiled, looking up at the hostess just enough for Him to see her smile before the cowl fell over her face. Something so familiar, but she changed it just enough to throw him off. So close, but not quite close enough. He knew what smile it looked like, he still dreamed of it often. He believed that he's just become so worn out that every smile will probably have a hint of his lost girl within it. His mind might finally be cracking from the strain of still holding on after three long years.
"Heh, well. The title had attracted me instantly. I picked it up before it was 'discovered', I'd guess you'd say. When it was just released. "Goodbyes Are Never Good" is such a great title, I must admit! And it helped me... I had broken up with a guy because I knew I wasn't healthy for him. He needed to be free, you know? And I was beating myself up over it, badly. I think the book saved me from a really dark time. I just... I felt like I was not the only one that was going through it, you know? And I could understand why I felt what I felt, and I had a chance to see what my ex might think - and it was nearly spot on. It helped me save him, too. So, I guess I owe you my life, and my ex's. I can't explain to you how much I love your book." She was quiet when she spoke, and he couldn't see what her eyes were doing as she talked, but at that point, he wasn't really thinking of her eyes. He was listening to her story, and he was surprisingly touched.
That glimmer of happiness returned again, slightly stronger. The candle flame of cheer. He smiled and his state of detattchement faltered slightly. He felt, to an incredibly small extent, more alive. It was subtle, minor, for all intents and purposes unnoticable to all but him, but it was far from insignificant.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. I'm not sure what to say, to be honest. When I was writing it, I never imagined I'd save a life with it. I'm..." His voice slipped without warning, showing emotion. Slightly choked, happy, touched. "I'm happy because it seems like I managed to make you happy. I never thought I'd be able to make anyone happy. I think my book can talk for me on that."
The crowd Awww'd and then burst into cheers and claps. The talk show went on. The hostess made everyone laugh, even her guests, the author and the fan. Like a talk show should go, only a bit more touching. The author couldn't quite explain why, but he felt warm towards the fan. He couldn't even explain what exactly he felt to himself. He knew it wasn't anywhere close to something that could resemble a liking... could it? All he knew is it felt different, and yet right, and familiar. So familiar. Like looking at yourself in the mirror, only with a rainbow of make-up on that you don't remember being there. Familiar, and yet alien. Strange, but good.
She was biting back everything that came to mind. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have came here. It did her no good, and he was oblivious. It did him no good, either. It would only do him harm if he realized. She wondered again why she did it. She either didn't understand or completely refused to recognize that she was indulging in her selfish side. It was all for her, but it just wasn't going right. She wanted more than anything to either be loved by him or far, far away with something able to distract her. Instead, she was ten feet away from her ex-love that was still her love, and he was oblivious.
The time finally ran out, as it always does. It runs and runs, and no matter what we do, and we can do anything - kick, scream, beg, plead, cry, bargain, deny - it'll get its way, because that is all it knows how. Time was never told "No" and therefor nothing can hold it back. The clock had run down, and the talk show came to a close. The fan and the hostess hugged like two school girls, one with true excitement, one with a false front. Guess who? Hint: it wasn't the hostess. And then the hostess hugged him, thanking him again for coming on her show and spending time talking - she knew how busy he was and was just so delighted that he spent time on her show, of all shows. She ended her hug with a kiss on the cheek, and the author just realized that the hostess could be considered relatively attractive. It had no affect on him. And then, it was the fan's turn to say goodbye. She didn't say a word, simply threw her arms around him and practically jumped into a hug with him. He was surprised at first, then let himself hug her back, tightly. Giving her a tight squeeze, like he used to do with his high school friends.
When the hostess had kissed his cheek, possibly just out of kindness, or maybe not, she couldn't deny that she felt raged. She felt insulted. He was her's. And then she felt ashamed, because he wasn't her's any longer. He hadn't been for three years. And then, when he hugged her back, she felt joy. At peace with everything. She caught herself about to whisper in his ear, as she'd done countless times when she was a teenager, "I love you." She managed to stop the whisper, even though it killed her inside, like taking a knife into her own heart. How could she deny herself? She made him unhappy when she left him. She made herself unhappy when she left him. Why did she do it? If she never would have left, they would both be happy. What's so wrong about being happy? She forced herself to stop thinking. To wipe her mind clean; chalkboard, meet eraser. Goodbye thinking. Just enjoy him hugging you.
He caught a glimpse of her eyes when the hug was broken. The same color as Her's. Nasty shock. He caught it and hit it below the surface before it showed; he did not want to offend his fan. Same exact eyes. Such a small world. He once again wondered whether his mind was cracking under the strain. He could be imagining her eyes were the same. It sounded logical. Believe it. There's bliss in hiding from the truth. There always is.
Sign up to rate and review this story