𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙎𝙀𝙏 𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙑𝘼𝙍𝘿 // 𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀́ 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚 - 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩, 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩, 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙚

2024

"Did the media ever find out about what actually happened with Bernard?"

"No. Even though Y/N really wanted to press charges and put him behind bars, her lawyer talked her out of it. Apparently it was too rash of a decision to make since it would affect her image."

"But I thought Y/N didn't care about her image?" Irene reaches for her wine glass. It's well past ten o'clock in the evening but that didn't stop me from talking and that didn't stop Irene from writing. We nearly finished two bottles of wine. "She didn't but Y/N also wasn't stupid and at the end of the day she knew her lawyer and I were right."

"So just like that, Bernard Grey stepped down and disappeared from Hollywood."

"Yes, just like that."

"How was it adjusting after the fight?" Terrible. Y/N and I didn't speak for three days after I lashed out on her and passed out drunk. She came home and spoke to me only out of necessity. I came home and ignored her. We ate dinners in silence and despite how awful I treated her, Y/N never slept without kissing me on the forehead. She never left the house without kissing me on the lips.

"Hard. I had no idea how to apologize, I never really had to before. I never had fights like that with Jennie or Lisa, so it was all new territory."

"Who apologized first?" Irene looks at me with a glint in her eyes, isn't that the question everyone wants to know. "Obviously, it was Y/N. I hated apologizing, I still do but I learned over the years how to swallow my pride and just say it."

-

1964

-

Jennie and Lisa took a trip to San Francisco with Jisoo. They said they wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge but I was too stuck in my misery to agree. I didn't want to be the person to spoil their trip. So, they left and I was alone without my friends. All I had was my wife who was angry at me, with good reason, and a massive house that contained a lot of help but still felt like it was empty.

I've been trying for days to write a decent chorus but all I've thought about so far was how terribly I treated Y/N. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could remember was how I told Y/N to fuck off when all she was trying to do was help me.

God, I was such a bitch.

So, why don't you just go apologize Roseanne?

If it was only that easy. How was I supposed to stand in front of her, ask for her forgiveness after everything that I had said the other day? Who in their right mind would forgive someone like that? I mean, Joyce took three hours trying to clean the bar from the glass shards and the awful stench of alcohol.

When I had asked Joyce who brought me to bed when I had clearly passed out on the couch, she had said that Y/N did.

She was still so damn sweet even when all I did was treat her like shit.

How was I supposed to face her now?

Damnit, Roseanne. You and that temper of yours.

"You're home." It wasn't a question, just a statement. I look away from the piano in front of me, the crumpled sheets of paper and the wine bottle that was now half empty. I had only opened it an hour ago. Y/N looks exhausted but if any other person were to see her, they'd think that she's fine. I suddenly feel rage knowing that other people have seen my wife like this.

She looks beautiful, her hair's down but the sides have been tucked behind her ear. Her suit jacket is off, leaving her in a white plain button up that has been rolled up to her elbows. Her oversized suit pants fall just right above the edge of her heels. She sets her brief case down and Joyce immediately takes it and puts it away in her office. "Thank you, Joyce," she says kindly.