𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || Cillian Murphy ¹

twelve (edited)

Cillian pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply as Jenni's voice crackled through the phone. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Cill," she snapped. "You're either in his life properly, or you're not." 

Cillian clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his phone. "That's not fair. I am trying, but you are pushing me away from him." 

"Well, where I'm standing, it looks pretty damn fair," Jenni shot back. "You cancelled plans last week, and now you're asking for my weekend?" 

"I was working," he growled, "I had an audition."

"You're always working," she said, voice dripping with exhaustion. "That excuse worked with me when we were married, but with Charlie? He doesn't give a shit about your scripts, Cillian. He just wants his father." 

Guilt settled in his chest, thick and suffocating. Last weekend was supposed to be one of his weekends with his son, and it killed every part of him for having to cancel it. He had to go to London for an audition, and Charlie would've spent most of the weekend in the fucking waitingroom of the studio. How was that fair to him?

Jenni sighed on the other end of the line. "I'm not trying to make you the villain here. I just — I don't want him growing up feeling like he has to chase after you for attention." 

Cillian squeezed his eyes shut. "I know." 

"Do you?" she challenged. "Because you keep doing this. Pushing people away when it gets too heavy. You did it with me, and now you're doing it with him." 

His stomach twisted violently, a dark rage budding from inside. He barked out a vicious laugh,  "Is that some bullshit your therapist fed you?" 

"You're a prick," Jenni sneered, "When are you going to face the fact that this divorce is not all on me?"

"Maybe when you stop searching for justifications for destroying my fucking life," he shot back.

He was met with heavy silence on the line, the crackling of the call filled with years of unresolved wounds.

Finally, Jenni sighed. "I'll bring him by later. If you can't make it work, tell me now." 

"I'll be here," Cillian snapped, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat.

"Good." A pause. Then, softer — almost like the Jenni he used to know –  "Take care of yourself, Cill." 

The call disconnected. Cillian dropped the phone onto the counter, pressing his palms against the cool marble as he tried to steady his breath. He tried not to let the weight of everything pull him under. But it was getting harder. 

Cillian had long accepted that some things don't get closure. His marriage was one of them. 

It had unraveled slowly at first, then all at once, like a thread pulled too tightly until the fabric snapped.