Norman Reedus Imagines

Travis and Klarissa -Part 2

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Klarissa bounds up the concrete stairs to Travis' apartment, her thick-soled boots thumping on each one until she reaches the top, a little breathless. She takes a moment to finger-comb her hair and straighten her new dress down against the bare skin of her thighs where it's ridden up from her excited race up the stairs. Satisfied that she's once more presentable, she lets herself in and looks around. The living room is empty as is Travis' bedroom so she wanders down to his studio where she finds him, deep in concentration behind his wall of monitors, his fingers dancing over his editing equipment.

"Hey," she says from the doorway and he looks up, startled.

"Klar. Hi. What are you doing here?" he replies, looking puzzled.

"It's Friday night, we're going out, remember?" Klarissa tells him, a sinking feeling starting in the pit of her stomach as she takes in his untamed hair and the circles under his eyes that tell her he's been deep in whatever project he's working on and probably hasn't slept in days. "You forgot."

"No, no," he responds quickly which she knows means that he did. "It's just that, well, um, I really have to get this project finished. I'm already over my deadline but I managed to get an extension to hand it in tomorrow if I can just get it done tonight. You know how hard it is to get anybody in their office on a Saturday, Klar."

Klarissa feels her face fall into a mask of anger and disappointment.

"I'm sorry, kitten," he says, apologetically, his eyes flicking back to the monitor in front of him. "We'll go out tomorrow night, I promise, but I really have to do this right now. You understand, right?"

"No, Travis," she replies softly, "I don't understand. Not anymore. I love you, I love what you do. I think you're an amazing artist and a creative genius and I understand that you don't always function on the same level as the rest of us but sometimes, just occasionally, I need you to put me first."

"Klar, I do put you first, it's just..."

"No, you don't," she shouts, interrupting him. "You only put me first when it fits in with your life."

"That's not fair, Klarissa, you know that's not true."

"Not fair, Travis, not fair? I'll tell you what's not fair – me wasting my time getting ready to spend an evening with you, worrying about how I look, wondering if you'll notice I bought a new dress in your favorite color, looking forward to spending my time with you, only to find that not only did you forget our date but that you can't even stop what you're doing long enough to acknowledge I'm even here. That's what's not fair and I'm sick of it."

She knows she's shouting at him but she just doesn't care, tonight was supposed to be special and now he's made her feel like an inconsequential fool. Hot tears burn at the back of her throat and sting her eyes but she bites her tongue to stop them from falling.

"Klarissa, I'm sorry," he says, standing up from his seat and raising his voice to match hers, "but don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit? You know you're important to me but so is my work, I thought you understood that. I warned you when we started dating that there would be times like this and now suddenly it bothers you? What difference does it make if we go out tonight or tomorrow?"

"Overreacting?" Klarissa spits out in disbelief. "You want an overreaction? Well, fuck you, Travis, fuck you and your work. When you get a clue, look me up, if you don't have something more important to do, that is."