Cold
Author: Free Spirited One aka Cleo
Rating/Classification: PG-13 (for language)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Dom or Letti (nor anything else of value these days-please
don’t sue me).
Summary: Ever had someone tell you to never put anything in writing you wouldn’t
want on the front page of the NY Times? Bet Letti wishes someone had told
her.
Warnings: This story is heavy on the angst. Be warned.
This story was originally written for the Lyric Wheel at the Art of Vin Diesel
website. Thanks to L for the awesome lyrics and to Mami for being my ever
faithful beta.
~~~~~
A shudder ran up his spine as he read. It was only partly due to the chill in the air. I thought we were passed this shit. My God, am I an asshole.
Only an asshole would be sitting in his office with the blinds drawn reading his girlfriends diary. He justified it by telling himself he hadn’t known what it was when he picked it up and therefore, he wasn’t at fault for browsing through it. Was he?
He wished he’d never laid eyes on the little leather bound book that housed pieces and parts of Letti he had been blissfully ignorant of. Dom wasn’t a snoop by nature. He’d picked it up after he uncovered it moving one pile of papers to another pile. He honestly hadn’t known what it was and had looked at it for that reason. He wished he hadn’t. He wished he had the strength of will to stop reading it.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Letti’s shrill rebuke ripped through his thoughts even as the little book was ripped from his hand. “This is mine you nosy fuck.”
All the indignant rage that always welled when she talked to him like that failed to materialize. He felt hollow and defeated. Her words had torn him to the quick. It was a challenge to raise his head to meet her anger filled gaze.
Her black eyes were hard and cold. Her teeth were clenched and her posture was challenging. She was ready to fight. “Damn it, Dom. This shit is private.”
He shivered. The temperature in his little office felt as if it had dropped by several degrees since she discovered him. He sighed, surprised that he couldn’t see the white mist of his breath.
She was flipping though the book, suspicion written on her face as she searched for the most damaging parts. He watched her grimace as she read some of her own words, all the things she thought and felt but never told him. She slammed the book closed again and glared down at him.
“This,” she shook the book in front of his face, “has nothing to do with you. Stay the hell outta my stuff.” She started toward the door.
“Letti.” He almost choked on her name.
She turned, black hair spinning in a graceful arc around her very, very angry face. Her little hands balled into fists and she waited for it. The ‘it’ in question being his defensive denial of wrong doing. History decreed that it would later be followed by a not terribly sincere apology followed by a lengthy silence and his eventual return with a real apology that would get them speaking again.
Dom waited for it too. Every time he was busted in a lie or some sin his first instinct was to deny – loudly. The necessary bluster wasn’t there. He just felt sad. His shoulders drooped, his head fell forward and his legs felt like lead. It was as if every word written in her damned little diary weighed a thousand pounds and he crumbled under the weight of them all. “We can’t do this anymore.”
“Damn right. You gotta learn to respect my privacy.”
“That isn’t what I mean. I mean,” he paused, trying to push often repeated, but never more traumatic, words past his teeth. “We’re over.”
Her glare went almost instantly glassy and her posture shrunk from defiance to dejection in less than a blink. “Cause of this?” She held up the diary.
He nodded because words failed him, the lump in his throat too big for them to bypass.
She rubbed the black leather cover with her thumb. “This is just a journal, Dom. From that anger management class I took, remember?”
“So now it doesn’t mean shit, is what you’re saying to me. How come it meant something a minute ago and don’t now?” The venom contained in those pages began to course through him and he felt like Satan, savior and serial killer all at once. ‘Dom is the best and the worst thing that has ever happened to me’, was the first damning line of her diary. It went on to fill page after page with her anger, heartbreak and resolve to stick it out no matter what.
Dom knew he’d been an ass. He knew he’d been unfair and he knew that he hurt her from time to time. He had no idea how much until now.
She shrugged and stepped toward him, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s just stuff I had to get out, you know?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?” He asked as she rested her head on his shoulder and he fought the conflicting urges to hold her tight and run like hell.
“What good would that have done you, Dom?”
It wouldn’t have done any good. She needed more than he had to give her. She had told him over and over and over again what she needed from him and he had never heard a word of it. Until now, when it was way too late.
“Why don’t we just burn it? Let it all go up in smoke. Put it behind us and start over.”
He thought about her words, those she’d just spoken and those she’d written over the course of the last year. Burning the book would do nothing to change all the hurts, all the sorrows he’d caused her. “Can’t do that, Let. I’m sorry.”
“You’re really leaving me?”
He tugged the book out of her hand and slapped away her attempts to retrieve it. He opened it to the page he wanted. “Says right here, ‘Sometimes I wish he would just leave me. I can’t take this shit anymore. It is all about him. I mean, do I have any value at all? What is this shit anyway. Dom this and Dom that. Dom needs. Dom wants. Dom’s doing. Dom’s fucking. God damn it, why can’t I leave him? What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t just fucking leave him?’” Dom’s voice had begun to shake and he paused to get it back under control. Letti turned away from him, wiping tears from her eyes as she did so. “You want me to read you some more?”
“No.” Her voice was both small and shaky.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry doesn’t cover it.”
She squeezed his arm and turned to look him in the face, her eyes pleading. “We can get through this, Dom. I was mad when I wrote that. I didn’t really mean it.”
“No, you meant it. You know you did. I can’t keep doing this to you and I don’t know how to change it, Letti. Something isn’t right and hasn’t been for a long time.” She was crying now and damn if he wasn’t about to start himself. “I love you, I always have, but not the way you need me to. Not the way I wanted to. I just hurt you over and over.” He hung his head and the first tear trickled down his cheek. “I’m killing you. You said that in here somewhere too. I hate myself for that. I hate myself for every single hurt I caused you. God, Let, we have to stop this.”
She got up and grabbed both of his shoulders like she was trying to shake some sense into him. “We can stop it, Dom. We can change. We can fix it.”
He grabbed both her hands, thumbs rubbing over her scarred knuckles. “No. I wont keep doing this to you. Face it, I’m a selfish fucking bastard, Let. How many times have I promised to be better? Lasts for a week or two and then I go right back to the same shit. I can’t keep doing this. Neither can you. It’s over.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am, Letti. I’ll always be here for you but it’s over. Go to school, Let. Design these beasts like you said you want to in your journal. You are one hell of a mechanic, I have no doubt you would be a great engineer. Do what you have to do. Forget about me and all my bullshit. Bye.” He got up and walked out of the room knowing if he didn’t she would stay there and argue with him until he gave up and things went back to the way they were. He grabbed his jacket from its peg outside the office and tried not to hear Letti’s sobs or see the angry glares of his teammates.
Outside the air was cold, the sky gray and rain seemed likely. Perfect atmosphere for a day like this. He hugged his jacket closer to his face and climbed into his car. He drove to the beach, watched the waves crash over the sand, and cried until long past nightfall. He’d done the right thing, but it hurt just the same.
~~~~~
Sister Hazel---Your Winter
Grey Ceiling on the Earth
Well it's lasted for a while
Take my thoughts for what they're worth
I've been acting like a child
Your opinion, what is that? It's just a different point of view
So, what else what else can I do?
I said I'm sorry, and I'm sorry
I said I'm sorry but what for if I hurt you
Then I hate myself, I don't wanna hate myself, don't wanna hurt you
Why do you choose your pain
If you only knew
How much I love you, Love you
I won't be your winter
I won't be anyone's excuse to cry
and we can be forgiven
And I will be here.
Old picture on the shelf
Well it's been there for a while
Frozen image of ourselves
We were acting like a child
You read my eyes just like your diary
Oh remember please remember
Well I'm not a begger, but once more,
Well if I hurt you, then I hate myself, I don't want to hate myself
Don't want to hurt you
Why do you choose your pain
If you only knew how much I love you, Love you
I won't be your winter
I won't be anyone's excuse to cry
and we can be forgiven
And I will be here.
I won't be your winter
And I won't be anyone's excuse to cry
And we can be forgiven
And I will be here...
I won't be your winter
I won't be anyone's excuse to cry
and we can be forgiven
And I will be here