Work Text:
I have a picture
Pinned to my wall
An image of you and of me and we're laughing, we're loving it all
Carl took the last picture down from his wall. It was of him and Ron, both beaming at the camera with shy expressions, Ron's hand was a blur, it didn't make it high enough in time to cover the camera lens.
Carl smiled at the memory.
It was one of his favorites.
But look at our life now
All tattered and torn
We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn
Carl sat by the window to his apartment.
Waiting.
Ron had left in a rush that morning, harsh words had been exchanged. Carl could only cry. He looked to the kitchen, a mess of broken plates and silverware.
He looked away, back to the window.
To wait.
You say I'm a dreamer, we're two of a kind
Both of us searching for some perfect world we know we'll never find
Ron looked at Carl. Carl looked at Ron.
“I don't think this is working.”
Carl bent down to pick up the mug that had shattered by his feet.
“Yeah.”
So perhaps I should leave here
Yeah, yeah, and go far away
Ron had been gone for a month now. Carl paced around his living room.
A month of no contact. Anything could’ve happened.
His phone rang.
A common occurrence, but one that still left him scrambling to answer in hopes of hearing Ron's voice once again.
But you know that there's nowhere that I'd rather be than with you here today
“I miss you.” Was the first sentence out of his mouth.
Embarrassing. Carl nearly hung up the phone. How embarrassing.
“I missed you too.” Ron's voice crackled over the receiver.
“You didn't need to leave for so long.”
A breath inhaled.
“I needed to.”
You ask if I love you
Well, what could I say?
You know that I do and that this is just one of those games that we play
Carl gripped the phone, knuckles white.
“I'm afraid of you.”
“I never laid a hand on you.”
Carl heard a thump from the other line, and then a whisper.
“I'm not my father.”
Carl nodded, before remembering that Ron couldn't see him on the other end.
“I know. I still love you.”
A pause.
“I still love you too.”
So I'll sing you a new song
Please don't cry anymore
I'll even ask your forgiveness
“We can make this work.” Was something that Ron had said several times through the course of their relationship.
When they bought plane tickets on the opposite ends of the plane.
When Carl's apartment had a leaky ceiling and Ron had put his mechanical skills to work to come up with a temporary solution.
When Carl opened the door to see Ron there with flowers in his hand and an apologetic look on his face.
Carl cried.
“I'm sorry.” Ron said
Carl punched him in the chest, softening the blow to not actually wind him.
“You better be.”
Though I don't know just what I'm asking it for
“I want this to work.”
Carl smiled softly at Ron, already pulling him closer to link his hands around his waist, tipping him backwards onto their couch.
“It will.” Carl said.
Their couch. Carl thought.
He smiled.
It was theirs again.