2Helloooo!
I'm glad that this is actually getting views, I've been checking my traffic stats regularly and I'm really pleased!
Sorry that it's been a whole month, I was only hoping to take two weeks but coursework deadlines decided to emerge.
I'm really appreciative to Robsten96 for reviewing so far. You're keeping me going :)
Well here is the official beginning of my Mallory and Tyler fanfic.
Read this in 3/4 or 1/2 it makes it easier to read :)
Enjoy!
2. Monotony
The shrill beep of an alarm awoke most of New York City as soon as the clocks hit seven o'clock. Groans of annoyance and yawns full of the aching tiredness the residents held ran across the City as many stumbled from bed to get ready for the day. The weather didn't help coax people out of the comfort of the soft sheets and the plush pillows. For some it just settled them further into their sleepy haze. A soft snowfall wasn't something everybody enjoyed and as one woman pulled back her curtains to admire the falling snow, a certain young man groaned at the sight and rolled back over in his bed only to come face to face with another drunken nights decision.
"Shit!" Tyler hissed as he came face to face with a sleeping blonde, makeup smudged, hair no longer curly like it had been at the bar and she wasn't as attractive as he'd first thought.
With a small groan he rolled onto his back and ran a hand down his tired face, his head thumping from the amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. He was going to kill Aidan when he saw him. Almost as if he had heard Tyler's internal threat, Aidan slipped out of the apartment and headed to work, trying to be quiet as he closed the door.
A quick glance to the digital clock next to the bed told Tyler that it was nearly quarter past seven, he didn't have work but he didn't feel like hanging around to see what would happen when the blonde woke. He couldn't even remember her name and that was a first for Tyler, he felt guilty immediately. That wasn't him; he usually had the courtesy to ask for a girl's name first.
Tyler was then reminded of how much alcohol he'd actually consumed the night before. His head spun and his stomach heaved as Tyler recognised the foul taste in his mouth. He ripped the sheets away from his body and ran for the bathroom, skidding onto his knees in front of the toilet to start heaving his guts out. This wasn't how he wanted to start the day.
Despite the fact he knew he shouldn't, Tyler dressed quickly and tiptoed out of the apartment, making sure to not make any sound, just in case she woke up. He wandered down the streets, pulling his jacket closer around him as the cold winds blew and snow circled around his face, sticking to his messy golden brown hair that looked dull with the lack of sunshine in the air.
The cold froze his face, numbed his fingers and made his ears throb but Tyler didn't stop. He didn't stop walking until he made it downtown and to that café on the corner. Courtney smiled at him as he entered and went about making his regular order. He took his normal seat, the booth just away from the corner and sat down with a grunt and a heavy sigh. It was as if the cold had added to the heavy weight that he carried already. Rubbing his hands furiously over his face he realised how pathetic he was becoming.
Michael had been gone so long yet nothing seemed to have changed for Tyler. His grief had never left him, it was like a constant shadow, even when the sun hit him it never moved away, even when there was no light for a shadow that heavy ache still followed him. He'd drunk himself stupid night after night, with girl after girl trying to distract himself but now, now he was actually sick of it. Sick of the constant monotonous tone his life had taken on.
"Here's your coffee, Tyler." Courtney slid the cup carefully onto the table before sitting down across from him, her hazel eyes watching him carefully, "Bad day?"
With a scoff Tyler sipped on the boiling rich liquid, wincing at the bitter taste as it passed over his tongue, "When isn't it a bad day?"
Courtney had seen him come in and out of the café every single day without fail, looking completely broken and just exhausted. She had never questioned him as to why he was the way her was but every now and then when she made a joke, causing a smile to crack on his lips, she saw a man who had lived through more than he should have at his age but was hiding the happy, carefree man he used to be. A ghost of his old self.
"Richard's taking me out to dinner tonight, but you know if you want to talk I'm in here all day." She told him, fighting the urge to comfort him, "You have my number as well, right?"
He nodded and suddenly felt guilty for having to put Courtney through his sullen moods every single day. That and the fact that she had only ever been nice to him, no pushy waitress trying to uncover his secrets but a kind one, someone who would listen if asked. If not, she'd leave you to your thoughts, because sometimes having someone near you, but not having to force a conversation was the best kind of medicine.
Courtney slid out of the booth, wandering back behind the counter to serve a waiting customer, but her eyes never stopped flickering over to where Tyler was seated. She worried about him more than she let on but that was just Courtney, she cared about every single person in that café. Even the young girls who wandered in at twelve and one o'clock at night, going home after working at the strip club all night. She didn't care what they did, she just hoped they were looking after themselves.
Tyler stared down at the table, his hands curled up into fists as he tightened his jaw. He was so fucking damaged it wasn't fair. He wanted more, he knew he deserved more than this but then there was that tiny voice at the back of his head, his father's voice, reminding him that even if it wasn't technically his fault, his father blamed him for Michael's suicide.
After pretty much downing his coffee, he stood, his back hunched slightly and left quicker than usual, not even bothering to say goodbye to Courtney who looked up expectantly from the counter only to see his figure disappear through the door.
As the snow fell Tyler hurried home, not even giving a thought to the fact that his one night stand might still be there. He just wanted to be close to Michael. Most of Michael's things resided in Tyler's apartment, from t-shirts to books to little trinkets and then there was Michael's guitar. Tyler had that hanging on the wall. It was the only thing in the apartment he cleaned regularly.
He hadn't realised he'd taken the longest route home until he was passing people just hanging around drinking beer at eleven in the morning. He'd only been around here when Aidan had dragged him out to the various clubs in this area. As he turned down an alley way to cut back towards home he heard the loud bass from a club and winced as he felt the vibrations deep in his chest. His feet picked up their pace as Tyler shivered from the cold.
The people outside of the club didn't mind the drumming bass coming from the club, they were used to it, they were regulars. A blond man pushed himself off of the brick wall of the alley, threw his beer bottle on the floor, hearing it tinker on the concrete before he adjusted his leather jacket, heading back inside.
It was deafening inside the club, the bass almost encompassing any sort of sound made in the club, not that what anyone was saying to each other was interesting, and a lot of it was cheers for the dancers. Or strippers. Girls of differing ages all dancing on the counters, clothing that barely covered them as they tried to get someone interested. They were in this for the money, they had no other choice.
The blond haired man had his eyes on one dancer in particular, she couldn't have been more than twenty, thin, messy light chestnut hair with black underneath, heavily rimmed eyes. She was perfect. He just needed to get her attention. He sauntered towards the counter she was dancing on, her hands gripped around the silver pole to the side of her as she swung around in a circle, careful not to kick anyone in the face with her white platform heels.
Just as he made it to the counter the song stopped and she clambered down the other side of the counter, striding down to a door at the end before she disappeared. He cursed but shrugged it off. He'd find somebody else.
She trudged into the back room, cursing as the balls of her feet throbbed in pain. The stuff she went through just for the measly pay she got. That was if she didn't have a one on one customer and unfortunately she hadn't this shift. Maybe tonight, she thought as she kicked off her heels and pushed the barely there skirt down her legs.
"You working tonight, Mallory?" Called a bleach blonde girl from the other side of the room, who had just slipped on a tight white tank top on, ruffling her hair out.
"Yeah, double again." Mallory sighed, shrugging on her baggy jeans, adjusting the thin belt so they stayed on her hips, "Apparently Heather's sick again."
Blonde girl scoffed as Mallory smirked, "What you really mean to say is, she wasn't careful? Again?"
Mallory nodded, "You'd think she'd learn."
"Well, I don't know what she's going to do now?" The other girl muttered as she pulled on her skinny black jeans, "She's already got one kid to look after, how she going to look after two and work?"
A dark haired woman poked her head round the door just at that moment, her eyes scanning the room before they landed on the girl with the blonde hair.
"Amber!" She called over the loud music coming in from the open door, "Boss wants to see you."
Amber nodded, adjusting her jeans before she sighed deeply, "Better go see what the bastard wants this time, eh?" Mallory's answering smile was fake; they both knew what he wanted, "See you later, Mallory."
"See you," She muttered as she discarded the strips of fabric on her chest, replacing it with a soft baggy t-shirt. She couldn't wait to get home and sleep for a bit, if she was even allowed to sleep.
Mallory took the side exit of the club to get home, she always did. She didn't want to get caught by all the guys she had just danced for, she wasn't working now. Yeah, from time to time she had taken them up on their offers and gone back to their place or a motel, for a price of course. But she had been working since midnight, all she wanted was to sleep and recover enough for her next shift.
So as Mallory wandered downtown, hugging her army green jacket around her thin body she let her mind drift. Just like the snow which swirled around in her face, her mind swirled on its own, looking at her life and wondering how and when it would get better. The cold numbed her fingers like her brain was numbed, she hated her job sometimes. The late hours were what killed her the most, but she loved to dance, even if it was only one aspect of her job.
A smile crept across her chapped lips as she remembered a blurry image of her and her mother. She had been so young, yet Mallory's brain clinged to this memory, the only one she could see almost clearly of her mother. Her green eyes met with her mother's blue as she was carried to bed, Mallory's body had been limp with exhaustion as he mother slipped her into her crib. Her mother's soft voice rang in her ears as her head had made contact with the pillow, her eyes zoning in on the painted picture of a ballerina on the ceiling,
"Sleep well, my little ballerina."
Her mother had loved to dance; she remembered being carried around the apartment to classical music, her mother humming softly in her ear when she was young. She'd been allowed to keep some of her mother's possessions when she died. A small trinket box with a generic pop up ballerina and tinkling music to accompany it, it was on her bed side table in her apartment now. She also had two pictures of her mother, one of her dresses and the gold chain with the tiny diamond.
When she'd been placed in the foster home she hadn't been there long. A brown haired green eyed four year old girl was something which couldn't be resisted. The family that had picked her to take home were kind and generous and spoiled her because they couldn't have children of their own. Or so they thought. She'd been with them for four years, they'd paid for her ballet lessons and cared for her like she was their own. They'd even discussed adopting her permanently. Then her foster mother found out she was pregnant.
She ended right back where she started but ended up being stuck in the foster home for a whole year before another family decided to foster her. Unfortunately her next family were nowhere near as picture perfect as they seemed. They argued nonstop and took it out on her all of the time. Whenever her social worker came to visit they were suddenly a perfect family again. It was like this for five years.
At fourteen she couldn't take it anymore, she'd just started high school but living with her foster parents was slowly killing her. Now that she was older her foster father had decided beating her wasn't a bad thing to do. She was constantly limping from the bruises, he never hit her face, to make sure that no one found out but she was sure people had their suspicions.
When she turned fifteen she decided she wanted to buy herself some new clothes and so on her birthday she asked for some money. Her foster father had lashed out, calling her ungrateful and other foul words before beating her to a pulp. This time her face hadn't gone untouched.
As soon as she had been left alone in the house she grabbed her biggest bag and stuffed it with as many of her clothes as she could find. She knew where their secret stash was and grabbed a few hundred dollars before running out of the house and out of sight.
And here she was, at twenty one, working in the same strip club she'd been at for four years. She'd worked in other facilities close to this one before she was eighteen, peep shows and other clubs of a more demeaning nature. She'd been scared at first. At sixteen she'd been terrified to step onto the stage and take off her clothes, but Jayne had bent over backwards to get her the job and she needed the money. So she did what she needed to do.
Mallory pushed open her apartment door to find Doug asleep on the couch. He'd stumbled into the club two years ago, his marriage of twenty five years on the rocks with no hope of recovery. She doesn't know if he took pity on her for being so young and doing what she did for a living or if he was just genuinely a caring person. Either way he'd been paying to stay in her apartment for two years. It looked better than what it had but money for food and other essentials was still thin, especially with the amount of new girls at the club.
"Doug!" She called, causing the man to grunt and grumble in protest. She didn't need this right now; he was supposed to be at work, so he could pay her for spending another week in her apartment. She needed the fucking money.
"Doug! Get the fuck up!" She shouted, shoving his large body violently as he grunted again.
She growled in frustration but gave up, storming into her room to dump her bag. She wasn't going to be able to pay the bills at this rate. If Doug didn't get his act together they were both going to end up on the street. Snatching up the stale glass of water in the kitchen she charged back into the living room, before throwing it all over his face.
He shot up, coughing and cursing, wondering why the hell she had to wake him. He was exhausted, hung over and in dire need of a couple more hours of sleep. He wasn't expecting her back yet, it was too early.
"Why the fuck aren't you at work?" Mallory demanded as she slammed the glass onto the coffee table.
Doug wiped at his face and mumbled, "Because I'm hung over, that's why." But Mallory didn't hear him.
Shoving him back against the couch she shouted, "What's that? I can't hear you?"
"I'm hung over, alright?" He shouted back but she was having none of it.
"Get the fuck to work or we're both going to end up on the street." Her serious tone hit Doug hard and he clambered up, kicking over a beer can in the process.
She didn't want to be dealing with this, her job was enough to worry about, and she didn't need to start looking after him now. It wasn't something they could afford to do. Mallory swore under her breath when she took in a whiff of the alcohol coming from Doug.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust, "And take a fucking shower before you go anywhere."
With that she stormed back to her room, slamming the door shut before stripping down to nothing and clambering into bed, hugging the thin sheet tightly around her body. Her eyes fell onto the music box next to her bed and she sighed, her eyes wandering to the falling snow outside.
The way it swirled and clung to your body was something she didn't like, it stung your skin and melted in your hair. Nobody liked it. People walking along the streets would pull their hats down tighter or adjust their hoods around their faces to avoid the mayhem the snow played on their warm skin.
Tyler, however, didn't have a hat, or a hood and he shivered as he trudged the last few steps to his apartment building. Shaking his hair out to rid it of snow he stomped his feet on the carpet before heading up the stairs. Aidan still wasn't back when he got into the apartment, but the girl was gone. Tyler felt relief was through his body as he realised he didn't have to deal with her. He was a coward but today he didn't need it.
The date on the calendar told him why he'd drunk so much last night and why he'd been so short with Courtney this morning. It was the anniversary of Michael's death and he was supposed to be at the cemetery today, with his mother and father and sister. But he didn't want to have to put a brave face on and pretend he was getting on just fine. He didn't want to have to exchange pleasantries with a man who looked at him as though he'd taken Michael's life with his own hands. He didn't want any of that. He just wanted to get through the day in his own way.
He slumped onto the couch, kicking off his shoes before resting his head back, revelling in how content his body felt in that position. The way the pillows melded to his body, forming a cushy resting place for the tired young man. This was what it was like nearly every single day. He'd go out, get coffee, go to work if he was called, come home, go out with Aidan, get drunk, find a girl and forget that the past four years had happened. He could almost feel his father's disappointed eyes burning into him as he drifted to sleep. A daily nightmare.
Hope you liked it!
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BSwan.N x