Alanisesque Ironic (Trixya One-Shot)

Alanisesque Ironic

Is this what we are now? A meaningless one off that lasts as long as the hotel key you'll return in the morning. I can't blame you, maybe it just needed to be over and done with. It's not like my long list of onces shows any different, but in the morning light it always becomes painfully clear that they are not you.
 
Could you hear me finally admitting the truth? The whole time, my mind was a litany of three words, and I doubt you could guess. 'I love you', but do you want to know? Surely not, you look infinitely peaceful in whatever dream you're having.

The open curtains let the faintest bit of light in, and I wonder if the moon saw, if he knows. Or maybe, more realistically, the neighbours heard. I don't know how I'll bear the morning, when I have to face the consequences for getting what I'd wanted for years. And I'm certain there will be consequences. But for now, you look lost in sleep, and so that's how I'll leave you, because I don't know how to do anything else.

It takes a few minutes to discern which garments are mine and which are yours, and I'm not certain, but I think you might have been wearing my shirt I thought I'd lost. It looked better on you, anyway.

It's a new experience, seeing the blonde wigs and collection of hair bows spilling out of suitcases as I leave, undeniably telling me what I've done. Who you are. It feels like I'm on the outside in a different world, not in the one we share.

Once I'm dressed, I slip out, granting myself one last glance of the little heaven that had existed in that room, destroying it as the door slowly shuts itself behind me.

The last place I want to go is my room, a mirror image of what I'd run from. Maybe I'm a coward, running from happiness, or maybe it's safer to run anyway. I head down in the elevator, and as I head out of the hotel's double doors, I feel like I'm a teenager sneaking out of my home again, but that little scene of bliss could never be us. There were always too many 'why not's, and no guarantee that tonight wasn't just the whirlwind of the end of a tour getting the best of you, and me taking advantage of it. Can I blame you for letting me? Never.

The street is cold and empty at this time of night. A lone taxi zips by, and maybe if I really listen I can hear drunken partygoers making their way home. I feel like I can finally think, my thoughts can't suffocate me out here. I stroll along, hands in my jacket pockets to try to keep them warm, and a part of me wants to run back inside to the hotel, but I need to think. I need to look at this from the outside, figuratively and literally. 

The cigarette finds it's own way into my hand, the lighter flicking into life without any consideration. I breathe in the smoke and it's sickly comforting. You keep telling me to quit, and I'm trying, I swear, but it's hard to break an addiction. The first step to finding a solution is always admitting you have a problem, but I'm reluctant to call you that. A problem makes life worse, you just light it up in a way I never thought was possible. 

Somewhere along this long, winding line of us, I did the stupid thing and let myself fall. Maybe it was a mistake, but you weren't to know. At least, I presume you weren't. Letting myself fall was only half of the problem. Looking through those rose tinted, heart shaped glasses, I'd let myself believe that there was some hope that you were feeling the same things.

It was that hope that had lead me to pulling you in tonight when we were both tipsy, but not yet drunk enough to excuse stupid behaviour like that. You kissed me back, and suddenly my heart switched into overdrive. It all happened so quickly, but not quick enough. It wasn't all perfect, by any means. I'd had too much time to imagine what perfect looked like, but you always manage to come pretty close. We were both strangely nervous. The knowledge that it was you made it all... More. I don't know how to explain it, but I'm not sure how I move on from this one.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I immediately pull it out. Who calls anyone at this time in the morning? I look at the caller ID and sigh.

Incoming call from Trixie.

You must have woken up after I'd run, already the consequences were sprinting to catch me. Maybe if I set off now I could outrun them. Or maybe sometimes it's just easier to admit that you don't want to run, just in case the mess you thought you made was a figment of your late night imagination.

I pressed the green button, bringing the phone up to my ear as I looked across the street, all highlighted in an orange glow.

"Where are you?! I woke up and you weren't here and I was worried," you trail off, and I don't bother to fight the fond smile I know you can't see. 

"Sorry. I needed a smoke, "

"I have a balcony," you shoot back, and I'm half suprised to not get the usual lecture on keeping the smoke as far away from you as possible.

"And I felt like a walk?" my response is more of a question, and you pause to think of your answer. 

"You're not running away from me, are you?" the words are laced with a sense of hurt, and I suddenly realise my feet are taking me back to the source of the call. 

"I thought about it," I confess, "But I never was good at sports," I joke, trying to lighten the mood, and you laugh a little, like I knew you would.

There's silence over the line for a moment as I continue to retrace my steps.

"Are you... Are you coming back?" you ask, the most vulnerable I've ever heard you, and it breaks my heart.

"Yeah," I breathe out, final decision made, as if I ever had a choice. "I am,"

"I'll see you in a minute then?"

"Of course," I assure you, before hanging up as I open the door again.

I take the elevator back up your room, wondering if I give in too easily. With you, I always have, and why stop now? I walk the empty hallways until I reach your room again, knocking softly. Maybe this is my biggest mistake of tonight. Or maybe it's the best thing I ever did.

You open the door with a smile, and I'm finally certain of the second.