Title: Vale
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: The Cure
Pairing: Robert/Simon
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst, Romance
Summary: Simon thinks about his relationship with Robert.
The following story is a mere work of F I C T I O N, meaning it is 100% made up. None of the situations described here ever happened, and even if they did, I have no way of knowing. This is not about spreading rumours or, worse, libel. The people portrayed in this story are real, but I am NOT claiming they did what I wrote. I use their "public personas" and build stories around them as if they were fictional characters.
Shattered. A hundred thousands pieces on the floor. A metaphor I guess, the shreds of my broken heart lying all around. I still remember the day he gave it to me. "To my angel" the note said. He had left the packet on the pillow, I could still smell his scent when I woke up. I unwrapped it gingerly, afraid I could cause irreparable damage to whatever my love had decided to give me. It was the first time I'd got a present from him. Well, of course I had for Christmas or my birthday or other similar occasions. But this was different. Glossy black wrapping paper and a crimson ribbon. Typically him. As I saw the contents of the small box my hand came up to my mouth of its own accord. So this is how he sees me.
It was a little crystal creature, an angel I suppose, curled up with his arms loosely enfolded around his drawn up legs, cheek resting against his knees. And beautiful wings wrapped around himself, protecting him from the wicked, sinful world. He had told me once he was the only one who knew my real nature. I could act bold and careless, fool anyone but him. "I know how easy it could be to just break you." I had laughed at his words, pretended I didn't understand what on earth he was talking about. He just smiled, accepting my badly feigned lie. I couldn't tell him how I felt, not yet, I wasn't ready for a more than likely rejection. Because I thought that would be his reaction. Why would he ever want to mess with me when his life was perfect? He had a beautiful wife, growing popularity, the whole world at his feet. Why would he want to throw it all away? For me? For the man who had already deserted him when he needed a friend more than oxygen?
Yet he did. He came to me one night and as soon as I opened the door he flung his arms around my neck, hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. I asked him what was wrong but he didn't answer, just sobbed into my shoulder. I thought of the worst things, something concerning his parents, Mary, someone in the band. Not a word from that mouth I had found myself staring at so many times. God, what had happened? I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, took his face into my hands and forced him to look me in the eye. "Christ, Robert, what is it? I can't help you if you don't tell me."
His eyes were huge, glittering pools scanning my face searching for what I didn't know. He looked lost, his mouth open but silent, trying to utter sounds that simply wouldn't leave his lungs. And then he kissed me, pressed his lips to mine and stayed like that for a few seconds, nothing else. I was dumbfounded.
"Stop it...", he mumbled as he pulled away. "Please..."
"Stop... what, Robin?" I was still holding his face, not because I really wanted to, but because I was still too shocked to move. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." I felt his fingers gently grasp my wrists and remove my hands. "You think no one loves you anymore, don't you? Can't you see how much we care about you? How much I need you..."
The night of revelations. Robert coming to me and opening his heart to me like that was something I hadn't even dared dreaming of. He was really scared, afraid I would leave him again. How could I ever? And now there we were. Bandmates, best friends. Lovers. I am happy, I thought, finally happy. No one's going to take him away from me, nothing. I was so sure.
I pick up the fragments, not feeling the sharp slivers scraping my skin. A crimson droplet lands on the crystal face smiling at my feet. Such a faint, innocent smile, so similar to the expression I stared at so many nights, watching him sleep, dream. Now it looks like it's weeping blood. He would have made the strangest comment about the image, maybe written a song too. Not now.
I hold the rests of what used to be a heavenly creature in my hand, I don't have the heart to just throw it away like common rubbish. I'll wait. I lay them on the table and pick up the bunch of flowers lying there. Red roses. Such a cliché, but he loved them. I check my watch. The cemetery should be open by now.
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June 2001