You Belong With Me
Jan. 20th, 2012 03:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
archiveofarethusaShe was a dark girl.
Which wasn't quite right, because her skin was pale in that way which made it obvious the only reason she was not pasty was through soldierly vigilance and more money than she probably cared to count. But her hair was like melted brass, and her eyes - her eyes were wide and dark, not black but that in between brown color that reminded Cliff of a river at dusk when the mud looked glorious instead of dirty.
Anyway.
He'd met her the week before in the drama aisle of the local movie store, the one that stocked big boxes and betamax. She'd been looking at a terrible mistake.
"You really don't know what you're doing. Please, please put that back, you don't know me and I know I don't know you but you look too nice for me not to warn you," Cliff blurted. "That is the worst movie of all time. In the history of moving pictures, there is nothing worse. It's worse than those home movies of women giving birth, even, at least something happens in those."
The girl blinked, but smiled unsurely.
"Something must happen," she said. "It has a running time."
"That proves nothing," Cliff said, feeling inexplicably disappointed and heartbroken. "It is two hours of two guys walking in a barren desert and getting nowhere. It's like the filmmakers made a two hour representation of the experience of watching the movie as the actual film."
The girl's smile turned more sincere. It made her shine and the words in Cliff's head melt in protest. They did not get formed in his brain space to get neglected for fifteen years and then forced to describe something that immense without any warning.
"Oh, yeah? What would you recommend, then?" She said, putting Gerry gingerly back on the shelf with really more care than it deserved.
She had slender fingers and really nice hands. They were pianist's hands. Cliff had ADHD, he noticed these things.
Then they'd had a long, involved conversation about what sort of movies she liked - which included Rocky, for the love of god, and she really meant it, Cliff didn't even hate himself for professing his love prematurely or the awkward, brief silence that ensued - and she'd left with three movies she seemed genuinely excited for. It was single best night of the longest week of his life.
"I am going to date that girl forever," Cliff said to himself. Cliff paused, coming to a rather sad revelation. "Yes. As soon as I find out her name."
Which wasn't quite right, because her skin was pale in that way which made it obvious the only reason she was not pasty was through soldierly vigilance and more money than she probably cared to count. But her hair was like melted brass, and her eyes - her eyes were wide and dark, not black but that in between brown color that reminded Cliff of a river at dusk when the mud looked glorious instead of dirty.
Anyway.
He'd met her the week before in the drama aisle of the local movie store, the one that stocked big boxes and betamax. She'd been looking at a terrible mistake.
"You really don't know what you're doing. Please, please put that back, you don't know me and I know I don't know you but you look too nice for me not to warn you," Cliff blurted. "That is the worst movie of all time. In the history of moving pictures, there is nothing worse. It's worse than those home movies of women giving birth, even, at least something happens in those."
The girl blinked, but smiled unsurely.
"Something must happen," she said. "It has a running time."
"That proves nothing," Cliff said, feeling inexplicably disappointed and heartbroken. "It is two hours of two guys walking in a barren desert and getting nowhere. It's like the filmmakers made a two hour representation of the experience of watching the movie as the actual film."
The girl's smile turned more sincere. It made her shine and the words in Cliff's head melt in protest. They did not get formed in his brain space to get neglected for fifteen years and then forced to describe something that immense without any warning.
"Oh, yeah? What would you recommend, then?" She said, putting Gerry gingerly back on the shelf with really more care than it deserved.
She had slender fingers and really nice hands. They were pianist's hands. Cliff had ADHD, he noticed these things.
Then they'd had a long, involved conversation about what sort of movies she liked - which included Rocky, for the love of god, and she really meant it, Cliff didn't even hate himself for professing his love prematurely or the awkward, brief silence that ensued - and she'd left with three movies she seemed genuinely excited for. It was single best night of the longest week of his life.
"I am going to date that girl forever," Cliff said to himself. Cliff paused, coming to a rather sad revelation. "Yes. As soon as I find out her name."