Kaie
22nd December 2004, 18:18
Disclaimer: Not mine. God I wish they were, because the Lexana that is going on right now is just so wrong. And gross. So all characters belong to the WB and people that have more money than me.
Rating: Let’s call it PG-13 for descriptions.
Knowing What I Know:
I remembered. It wasn’t until today. I want you to know that I did go to your funeral. I watched your father break down and your cousin stand there in absolute silence. I watched Lana stand there and cry, pretending to be your friend. The bitch could’ve given up pink for one day.
I wore that black suit you told me you liked. Said it was modern and less depressing than the rest of my wardrobe. Sometime in the middle of the service, the wind picked up. I caught this whiff of a smell, lively and warm. I thought it was Lana. I hated her even more. I hated her because it reminded me of you.
But then I went home, changed my clothes and tried to bury my guilt in single malt scotch. Then I smelled it again. It was on my shirt. That same, intoxicating, wonderful smell. In the back of my mind I knew it was familiar, something that came from long before this day.
It took me awhile. Two decanters of scotch to be exact. I even missed work the next day, couldn’t find it in me to haul myself in front of your father. Not knowing what I did. It just felt wrong.
I could remember blonde hair and jeans. I remember ice blue panties and that perfume. I remember the sweet stickiness of limbs sliding, moving, binding. Then I remembered screaming your name, so loud you laughed. I remember your stomach moving as you laughed at me. It was amazing.
It comes in flashbacks. An insomniac’s worst nightmare. I haven’t slept in days, my staff is beginning to think I’m crazy. Especially after I ordered them to find women’s perfume. I can’t go anywhere now, knowing what I know. I stay in my study and smell the perfume. Someday I will go back to work, but not today. Not knowing what I know.
I had you. I lost you. And you never told me.
FIN
Please review!
Rating: Let’s call it PG-13 for descriptions.
Knowing What I Know:
I remembered. It wasn’t until today. I want you to know that I did go to your funeral. I watched your father break down and your cousin stand there in absolute silence. I watched Lana stand there and cry, pretending to be your friend. The bitch could’ve given up pink for one day.
I wore that black suit you told me you liked. Said it was modern and less depressing than the rest of my wardrobe. Sometime in the middle of the service, the wind picked up. I caught this whiff of a smell, lively and warm. I thought it was Lana. I hated her even more. I hated her because it reminded me of you.
But then I went home, changed my clothes and tried to bury my guilt in single malt scotch. Then I smelled it again. It was on my shirt. That same, intoxicating, wonderful smell. In the back of my mind I knew it was familiar, something that came from long before this day.
It took me awhile. Two decanters of scotch to be exact. I even missed work the next day, couldn’t find it in me to haul myself in front of your father. Not knowing what I did. It just felt wrong.
I could remember blonde hair and jeans. I remember ice blue panties and that perfume. I remember the sweet stickiness of limbs sliding, moving, binding. Then I remembered screaming your name, so loud you laughed. I remember your stomach moving as you laughed at me. It was amazing.
It comes in flashbacks. An insomniac’s worst nightmare. I haven’t slept in days, my staff is beginning to think I’m crazy. Especially after I ordered them to find women’s perfume. I can’t go anywhere now, knowing what I know. I stay in my study and smell the perfume. Someday I will go back to work, but not today. Not knowing what I know.
I had you. I lost you. And you never told me.
FIN
Please review!