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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Wednesdays
By Darchangel

 

Wednesdays
by Darchangel
Disclaimer: Subreality is the property of Kielle, whereas The Jukebox is mine. The personalities of
all musicians mentioned in this fic are embellished upon and not meant to imply anything about them.
Besides, they're fictives. ^-^
Voluntarily rated PG for mild sexual/slash content.
-----
Wednesday is the day of the week I love and hate the most.
I love it because it's when Writers are allowed at The Jukebox. I love it because even though I'm
too young for most of the drinks, I can still find something to drown my sorrows and release my
inhibitions. I love seeing the fictives coming in between chapters and stories, like watching an
awards show. I even love seeing people make dorks of themselves at the karaoke machine. Even I've
done it a few times.
What I hate is seeing him there. I *have* to go to see him - it's like a powerful drug, a magnetic
field pulling me close. And yet I hate it. I come here to drown my sorrows and the source of them is
sitting across from me.
Once upon a time, the sight of him would drive me crazy with desire: deep, rich eyes, full, kissable
lips, the sweetest smile, hair that begs to be touched, gorgeously colored skin... He was everything
I dreamed about, the one to light my fire. In my fantasies, he was mine.
And then I'm brought back to Reality- well, Subreality, anyway- when I hear the laughter of his
boyfriend, see their hands clasping, the sparkle in their eyes, when they kiss-
I hate his boyfriend. And I was the one who brought them together.
I suppose it's my fault in a way: I'm the only one to have written about them so far. Turns out I
might be the only one ever, I've asked around and the other Writers look at me as if I'm crazy. So
there's no way anybody could make a straight fictive of him anytime soon. Whoever *would* would
probably claim him right away or give him to some Mary Sue, and where would that leave me?
The answers seemed so obvious at first: break them up, make him straight again, write another
series. You have your powers as a Writer, why not use them?
And yet...somehow it would pain me to do that. It would cause pain to everybody involved. I'd feel
guilty, he'd resent me, his boyfriend would be heartbroken... I don't know whether it'd be as
painful as watching them being cozy right now. Maybe I should never know.
How foolish of me to think that bringing them together for my own amusement would stay as something
trivial. It never occurred to me that there were actual soulmate qualities to their relationship. If
I hadn't known things would turn out like this, I'd've thought it merely cute, but now...
I'm not sure what hurts me the worst, knowing his Mainstream can't be mine in Reality, or knowing
I'm the reason his fictive can't be mine in Subreality.
The diva at the karaoke machine has just finished singing "Crazy." That's me, crazy for feeling the
way I do. I wish I could undo it, but it's not in my power.
Crazy for crying, crazy for trying- even crazy for loving him.
I love him. I hate him.
I envy his boyfriend. I hate his boyfriend.
What did I get myself into?
They've just kissed- the type of passionate kiss that I used to dream about, the kind that made me
giddy to watch but now just break my heart- and he's stepping to the karaoke machine. I'm used to
this ritual, it's played out at least once a month. He deliberately chooses a sentimental song and
looks at his boyfriend the whole time. Every other couple in The Jukebox- gay or straight- looks at
them with envy. The women think, "They're so lucky." The men think, "Why can't I be like that?" I
know that's what they're thinking, I can tell by their expressions.
I'm the reason those two are so lucky. I'm the reason they're like that. And I hate myself for it.
Now he's just turned his head- in my direction? What for? It's not that I'm not noticeable, it's
hard to ignore how I look in Subreality, but why?
Briefly our eyes lock- my God, do you have any idea how long I've waited for this to happen? Just
let me have this moment as long as I can-
His expression turns to one of sadness, regret, pity, and pain for the time he looks at me...then he
quickly goes back to smiling at his boyfriend. As if he never saw me at all.
Wednesday is the day of the week I love and hate the most.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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