Miss Anne Throwpick (heartagramslash) wrote in songfichallenge,
Miss Anne Throwpick

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Fiction; The Sun Should Never Set...

Title: The Sun Should Never Set...
Rating: PG for like the two swears words in the whole thing
Written to: Affirmation ~ Savage Garden
Fandom: RPS, vam (Ville and Bam)
Disclaimer: Dont know, Dont own, Never Happened
Notes: Just a short litle drabble

The evening sun sprinkles through the cracks in the curtains, a peaceful image soon shattered by the plate that smashes into a hundred tiny shards not half a metre from my head. Little tiny needles of the broken crockery litter the floor around my bare feet. I wince at the thought of what sliced state my feet will be in the moment I try to walk away. He’s trapped me here, stuck listening to his accusing screams. Cunning bastard.
“I’m sick to dead of your shit” he shrieks, his high-pitched desperate screams tearing through the still twilight, warmth lingering in the air from the day’s heat. The heat always aggravates him.
“I’m sick to death of everything about you. I’m sick of every damn word that comes out of your mouth before you’ve even fucking said it. My life has been falling apart a little more for every day I’ve known you!” his yell continues. I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard it many a time before in fact. Every time he’s had a bad day, every time someone yells “faggot” across the street at him, every time his life isn’t just peachy. Which just so happens to be quite often. Every time he feels like he isn’t completely in control he yells and screams till he feels all high and mighty again. And I can never slip a defensive word in edgeways.
“I’m sick to fucking death of you!” he yells at the top of his lungs, the man in a coma three streets over hearing him loud and clear. Just to illustrate his point further he storms off to our room, the door barely surviving his fit of rage as he slams it closed, separating his anger from my hurt. Carefully tiptoeing through the mess of shattered dinner plate, I reach the door out to the porch, only suffering minor wounds to my feet while major ones to my heart. I know he’s only upset. I know that tomorrow morning I’ll be lying in his arms as he grovels for forgiveness. And I know I’ll forgive him. Again.
I wander over to the edge of the porch and lean against the slowly rotting rail. I can look across our backyard and see the sun majestically setting over the trees in a blaze of oranges and reds. As I watch the sun set I run over the past years in my mind, the years of my life I’ve given to him. A lot of them aren’t happy. A lot of them I’d rather like back. Though there are still a few I wouldn’t give up for anything. But there have been too many hateful words thrown between us. Too many tears cried. Too many hours spent angry and hurt. And too many times I should have said something, should have done something. Too many times I should have stood up for what I believed in.

I believe the sun should never set upon an argument…
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