The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote in pbfic_exchange2,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
halfshellvenus
pbfic_exchange2

"Of Wanting And Wishing," for chanchito_z

Title: Of Wanting and Wishing
Rating: R
Category: Angst, Het
Characters: (onesided) Michael/Veronica
Requested by: chanchito_z
Summary: There are some things Michael can't tell anyone.
Author's Notes: chanchito_z requested virgin!Michael/Veronica fic where Michael's acting like a basket-case. I know this doesn't follow the prompt exactly, but I hope you still like it!




There are the things you can’t tell your friends.

I’m too scared to kiss a girl. My dad left because he didn’t love us. Sometimes I still crawl into bed with my mom.

There are the things you can’t tell your mom.

I hate the peanut butter cookies you think I love. Lincoln came home drunk last night. Sometimes I wish dad were still here, even if it means we would have to deal with his problems.

And then there are the things you can’t tell anyone.

You can’t tell anyone about this because if you say it aloud, then it means it’s real; it means that it’s not just something you think about when you’re alone at night, sad and pathetic.

After your mom died, there was only one person in the world who loved you, and maybe even more importantly, understood you. Your psychiatrist told you that your mind made you special; that what you had to understand was that you saw the world in a different way. What you understood was that your mind made you a freak. You understood that kids laughed at you, your mother died, your father left, and all you had left in the world was your brother.

But then you realized that she was in your life too.

There was one night when it was just you and Veronica in the shitty, little apartment you called home. Everything was spinning much too fast; your world wobbling on its axis. She’d never seen you like this before, but miraculously, it didn’t scare her. She just pulled you into her arms and somehow didn’t seem to care that your sweat was soaking into her shirt and your snot streaking across her skin. And as she held you, everything slowed and the realization dawned. It wasn’t just Linc; Vee knew you too.

After that, when you would have your episodes, and the world felt too bright, too fast, too much, Linc would hold your hand and tell you to concentrate. To pick something and focus on it. So you would. You would build her face in your mind (dark hair, fair skin, greenish eyes, that slightly crooked smile), until the chaos of the world melted away.

When Linc would ask, you would tell him that you were focusing on “her” face. He would just nod in understanding, something darkening in his eyes, and you would know that he thought you meant your mom. And you would just let him think that.

Then there would be the nights when you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about Vee. Your hand sliding up your cock, your teeth biting your moans away because you irrationally feared that if Linc heard you, he would just know. Know that you were imagining that it’s her small hand stroking you just so, her smooth skin sliding up your body, her warmth enveloping you in a way you’ve only ever dreamed about. You would lie in bed, panting, wanting, wishing.

*

As the years passed, it became easier and easier to forget about your feelings. She left for college, you left for college, time passed, things changed. Lincoln began to fuck up over and over again until Lisa was pregnant, Veronica was estranged, and he spent more time inside a jail cell than out of one.

*

One afternoon during sophomore year of college, you’re babysitting LJ when the phone rings with Veronica on the line. You haven’t talked to her in more than a year, but even so, her voice still makes your body violently react. Your fingers clench tighter around the warm plastic of the phone and your heart beats a pounding rhythm as you listen to her voice. She wants to see you, to see LJ; she says it’s been too long, says she misses you.

She doesn’t say that she misses Linc, but you still force yourself to hear all the things she isn’t saying.

That night, Veronica holds LJ in her lap, smiling as she reads the toddler a book. You sit beside them, your heart still beating a little too fast, and notice the look of enchantment on LJ’s face as he watches Veronica’s moving lips instead of the brightly colored book. Your nephew’s delight at the attention is obvious, and your heart squeezes a little as you’re reminded of all the ways that LJ is just like you.

It’s not that Lisa’s a bad mother, not by a long shot. She does the best she can, but with Lincoln locked away for another six month stint, and the two jobs she works in order to stay afloat, Lisa’s best means that LJ just doesn’t get much parental attention.

It’s clear that Veronica has quickly stolen LJ’s heart, and when he looks from her face to yours—his toothless grin lighting up his face—you’re powerfully reminded of something you miss; a feeling that hasn’t been there for a long time.

That night, like so many before, you think of Veronica. But this time, you’re not imagining her naked or cataloging all the ways she could use her hands and tongue on your body. This time you’re imagining that you’re a family, just the three of you. The thought simultaneously sickens and warms you, and you fall asleep with messy dreams mixed of Veronica, LJ, and Lincoln.

When you wake the next day—the warmth cooled, but the sickening feeling still lingering in the pit of your stomach—you begin the process of forgetting again.

She calls three more times that week, but you just let it ring. Each time you hear her voice on the machine, you remind yourself that Lincoln and LJ are the only family you’ll ever need, and you won’t let yourself think otherwise ever again.

You’ve finally realized that there are some things you can’t even tell yourself.





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