behold a dream .｡.:*☆ pink floyd imagines

rick #2

{ mail for 70swhoreykwtfgo }

rick's voice, over-encompassing, but gentle, like his hugs, resounds from the entrance to your home. he stands in the hall, hangs his coat, and drops his bag to the floor. you sweep your eyes from him and take a pull from your cigarette.

"sweetheart, i'm home - oh, there you are." from the corner of your vision, you see him approach. he stands in front of you with his arms at his sides like a dumb statue. you suck at your teeth, lifting the nicotine spread from your mouth, as your cat wraps its tail around rick's legs and meows.

"at least alfie is happy to see you," you remark, smashing the butt of your cigarette in your well-used ashtray.

"what's wrong?" he mumbles. in conflict, rick clams and curls into himself. at this point, you're so used to it that you only give a shake of your head and lean back onto the sofa.

"i thought you said the tour was ending wednesday."

"it did. the flight was delayed. i - i couldn't find a car. we all spent the night at the airport. i would've called, but i figured you'd be busy...what with work and everything."

you frown deeply, "don't insult me, richard. just tell me the truth. god knows you can't stand staying here with me, so just be honest about where you've been these past two days." you are finally able to look him directly in the face. the line between his eyebrows cuts deep. he rubs his stubbled chin with his right hand.

"i never said i can't stand being with you. that's not...no. who told you that?"

"why is it that i can never think for myself in your eyes?" you snap at him. "i'm so tired of these chases."

he's silent except for the movement of his shoes on the carpet beneath. he lowers himself beside you before you can prevent it, and turns to look at you. "i'm sorry," he whispers your name. "after we came back, i went to the bar. i brought a woman to a hotel and spent the night with her. she left in the morning and i stayed in my room for the whole day. you don't know how much the guilt ate at me. i couldn't stop thinking of you," he reaches for your hand, but you pull sharply away and address the lamp on the side table.

"i see. obviously you didn't think of me while you were shagging her." you rise quickly, your face flush with heat, clenching your fists in hope to not turn and smack him across the cheek.

"no, that's not - don't -" he begins, and tries to leave the couch, but you cut him off and step towards the hall.

"i'm going for a walk. i don't know when i'll be back," you reach for your coat, almost mistaking it for the rough fabric of rick's jacket. you sigh and shy your hand away from his clothing; even the encroaching mix of cologne and cigarette smoke makes you feel ill.

he doesn't stop you, nor say your name, as you slip from your house, feelings of betrayal and self-hatred swimming in your veins. how could you have let him fool you again?