Prelude to an Elevator
Starting things off with a little angsty self-reflection and no one does angst better than our dear sweet Ren.
For the July 6th 'chance' prompt
My only wish is that this never turns into something it isn't. What isn't it, you ask? It isn't an ending. At least, I don't want it to be an ending. Maybe we should call it an impasse of our own making. Me, with my head full of petty jealousies and immature behaviors. You, with your heart full of caution and regret. Yes, let's call this an impasse. That would mean that nothing can end because nothing can move forward.
Honestly, I would love to hold myself accountable and absolve you completely and for that to be the end of it, though I know any attempt I'd be capable of would never meet your exacting standards. But I also know that the depths of what I hold in my heart for you could never be measured by those standards. Or anyone else's for that matter.
The fact that I may end up spending the remainder of my days seeking atonement doesn't escape me. Instead, it haunts me whether I'm awake or asleep, whispering epithets in my ear and telling me I was never worthy of you. I ran aground in the tempest of your anger and I've been left to cling for dear life to the mast while you rend my ship to splinters. If I say it, will you stop? If I say it, will you believe me?
I was wrong.
I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong.
Goodness knows this isn't the first time we've clashed steel. So much of our history is peppered with conflicts that seem dulled by the times of laughter and sweet smiles sandwiched between.
You throw an obscene gesture and then care for me while I'm ill with a tenderness I haven't known since I left my family behind.
I give you a rose for your birthday and then shatter your phone against a hotel room wall because a wretched relic from your past tried to reach you.
That means we can bounce back from this. We've done it so many times before, and this time shouldn't be any different. Just wait until what was down is up again and the cycle continues.
But this is so much more, isn't it? So much more than arrogant accusations. So much more than caustic comments. So much more than mindless misunderstandings. We built a house of cards on a foundation made of self-preservational lies because we keep doing this again and again and again and again until inevitably we'll...
But, before we can break, you bend. You want to take a break instead. Spend time apart, at least, if your continued avoidance of me can be interpreted as such. And, maybe, things will be better for both of us. But, maybe things will be better if we have an honest conversation for a change. Of course, this is us we're talking about. We have a better chance of telling the sun to set in the East.
Do you remember when you held my hand after the accident on set? When I fancied myself a stunt driver? You never knew it then, but you pulled me from a very dark place. It was full of secrets and tears and blood and broken glass, and I want to show it to you someday because I don't think my words would ever suffice. I want you to understand just how you saved me. Because I'm kind of counting on you to keep saving me.
So I'm taking a chance. A chance to tell you what I've held back for far longer than I thought I could. A chance to explain to you, once and for all, the feelings I've hidden behind harsh words and posturing.
That's why this can't be an ending.
It can't because you're my ending.
ARE YA READY, KIDS? This year's ship week is gonna be an angst sandwich with fluff and humor packed full to bursting in between. Prepare yourselves.