Ficlet: Painful Memories
Feb. 15th, 2010 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloversworldDidn't realized I forgot to post this here until now. This was originally posted over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cookleta_hols and posting now with date out of order.
Title: Painful Memories
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clover71
Prompt Day: Post-Valentine's Jittery
Prompt: morning after
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Word Count: 540
Summary: David always spend the morning after Valentine's day at a place where he can be closer to Cook.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: We are in no way officially affiliated with David Cook, David Archuleta or their representation. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence. No copyright infringement is ever intended.
Warning(s): Angst, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
Author's Notes: This was written forcookleta_hols's Valentine's day 2010 challenge for the prompt, 'morning after'. I have no idea why this came to me. I was focusing on the prompt and the scene just played out in my mind like it was meant to be written. Thanks to my beta charliebb who has been forever awesome.
~ start ~
Cool morning breeze caressed David’s face. His eyes slid close while the wind blew gently and lightly around him. It rendered a much-needed comfort so David surrendered in its soothing embrace.
It had been four years, four years already and yet, he found himself returning to this place that was nothing more than a bitter reminder of his selfishness.
He shifted his weight on his other leg, the grass crunching underneath the soles of his shoes. His mind was once more filled with ‘what-could-have-been-if’ thoughts.
The memory of that night, on Valentine’s four years past, flooded through David in torturous waves.
Cook was stuck in a meeting with the executives from the record company in New York and had called David to let him know he wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home. That wasn’t the first time it had happened and it wasn’t like David didn’t understand the situation, because he did. Really, he did. But… but he was just… well, sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of all the broken promises and hindrances that their lifestyle had inevitably caused.
“Cook, I…” he’d said, clutching tightly on his phone. “I… I just… I don’t know. I’m tired I guess.”
David shouldn’t have said it, should have kept his mouth shut. He should’ve been more understanding. Should have, should have, should have. But it was too late.
Those words, vague even to him, somehow got Cook worried. Those words were what triggered Cook to book a red-eye flight to Los Angeles. And those were the words that made Cook drive desperately through the late night traffic just to get back home and spend the last remaining hours of Valentine’s Day with David.
“I’m coming, baby. I’m almost there” were the last words David ever heard from Cook when he called. He waited hours. And hours. But Cook never came. Instead, he got a call from an unregistered number past midnight.
Cook was in an accident.
David was pretty sure the police had given him the details but it failed to register in his mind. The minutes, hours, painful breaths and heartbeats that passed were all a blur even after all these years.
The only thing David could remember was sitting outside the operating room, staring blankly at the white walls that surrounded him. This is all your fault, the voice inside his head had kept repeating it until it was nothing but a numbing feeling that consumed his consciousness.
He barely remembered who nudged him awake, but he could recall how the words whispered in his ear broke him. “David, Dave’s gone.”
The tears streaming down David’s cheeks dripped on the granite surface of the tombstone like tiny raindrops when David bent over to kiss it, whispering once more his promise to return. The tips of his fingers traced the engraved letters that formed the name of the man that had once owned, and would always own his heart.
With slow, painful strides, he walked away from Cook’s grave, doubting that he’d ever have the strength to move on. For now, and perhaps for some years to come, he knew he’d always spend the morning after Valentine’s Day at the place where the man he loved lay.
~ END ~
=========================================================
Comments will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for viewing.
cookleta_hols and posting now with date out of order. Title: Painful Memories
Author:
clover71Prompt Day: Post-Valentine's Jittery
Prompt: morning after
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Word Count: 540
Summary: David always spend the morning after Valentine's day at a place where he can be closer to Cook.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: We are in no way officially affiliated with David Cook, David Archuleta or their representation. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence. No copyright infringement is ever intended.
Warning(s): Angst, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
Author's Notes: This was written for
cookleta_hols's Valentine's day 2010 challenge for the prompt, 'morning after'. I have no idea why this came to me. I was focusing on the prompt and the scene just played out in my mind like it was meant to be written. Thanks to my beta charliebb who has been forever awesome.~ start ~
Cool morning breeze caressed David’s face. His eyes slid close while the wind blew gently and lightly around him. It rendered a much-needed comfort so David surrendered in its soothing embrace.
It had been four years, four years already and yet, he found himself returning to this place that was nothing more than a bitter reminder of his selfishness.
He shifted his weight on his other leg, the grass crunching underneath the soles of his shoes. His mind was once more filled with ‘what-could-have-been-if’ thoughts.
The memory of that night, on Valentine’s four years past, flooded through David in torturous waves.
Cook was stuck in a meeting with the executives from the record company in New York and had called David to let him know he wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home. That wasn’t the first time it had happened and it wasn’t like David didn’t understand the situation, because he did. Really, he did. But… but he was just… well, sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of all the broken promises and hindrances that their lifestyle had inevitably caused.
“Cook, I…” he’d said, clutching tightly on his phone. “I… I just… I don’t know. I’m tired I guess.”
David shouldn’t have said it, should have kept his mouth shut. He should’ve been more understanding. Should have, should have, should have. But it was too late.
Those words, vague even to him, somehow got Cook worried. Those words were what triggered Cook to book a red-eye flight to Los Angeles. And those were the words that made Cook drive desperately through the late night traffic just to get back home and spend the last remaining hours of Valentine’s Day with David.
“I’m coming, baby. I’m almost there” were the last words David ever heard from Cook when he called. He waited hours. And hours. But Cook never came. Instead, he got a call from an unregistered number past midnight.
Cook was in an accident.
David was pretty sure the police had given him the details but it failed to register in his mind. The minutes, hours, painful breaths and heartbeats that passed were all a blur even after all these years.
The only thing David could remember was sitting outside the operating room, staring blankly at the white walls that surrounded him. This is all your fault, the voice inside his head had kept repeating it until it was nothing but a numbing feeling that consumed his consciousness.
He barely remembered who nudged him awake, but he could recall how the words whispered in his ear broke him. “David, Dave’s gone.”
The tears streaming down David’s cheeks dripped on the granite surface of the tombstone like tiny raindrops when David bent over to kiss it, whispering once more his promise to return. The tips of his fingers traced the engraved letters that formed the name of the man that had once owned, and would always own his heart.
With slow, painful strides, he walked away from Cook’s grave, doubting that he’d ever have the strength to move on. For now, and perhaps for some years to come, he knew he’d always spend the morning after Valentine’s Day at the place where the man he loved lay.
~ END ~
=========================================================
Comments will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for viewing.