Twisted Drabble

Drabble with a twist

Category: ,




Length: words

Notes: At the end of the fic

I’ve always loved him, but to be quite honest, most of the time I really don’t like him all that much. It’s different being in love with someone, and actually liking them as well. I didn’t know this before I met him properly, but I know it all too well now.

Some of the things that he does just really piss me off. That know it all smirk that he pulls off when he’s right about something, the constant awareness of his appearance and that he looks better than everybody else, his bloody vanity, that god damn obsession with Gary Numan. So many things piss me off about him that I wonder why I’m even with him sometimes. I wonder why I’m wasting my time. I wonder why I’m wasting his time more to the point.

Every so often he’ll do something that makes me think “oh, that’s what it is. That’s why I’m still hanging around.”

The fucking pretentious outfits he wears, trying to be something that he’s not. He tries to fold himself into a person that he can never be, by wearing flashy hats and bright pink clothing. I know he’s secretly hiding away the boy inside him, the one who’s still secretly in love with Depeche Mode and Bryan Adams. I see the way he carries himself when he enters a room; that know it all swagger and smile on his face that shows he knows he’s better than everybody else in there. I see the way that others look at him when he walks past them, trying to catch his eye, or trying to get his attention just so that they can be “cool” by association, but I know that really he’s as uncool and uncollected as anyone could ever be.

Sometimes I’ll catch his eye, and he’ll wink at me and I’ll know that everything is alright with the world, and that everything’s going to work out just fine. Then other times I catch a glimpse into the ugly, mean side of him that I never want to see… the side that nobody ever wants to see.

That’s when I smash him.

That’s when I smash the man inside the mirror, and I think that maybe, if just once that I could be myself then I wouldn’t have to think all these horrible things. But I know that deep down it’s all I ever can be. A fucking poser. Because if I was just myself, then nobody would want to know.

Notes: So there you have it, it’s just Vince… thinking about Vince! Or Noel thinking about Noel whichever way you want to see it. And for those of you who didn’t get it because of my appalling writing skills or whatever, he’s talking about when he sees himself in a mirror, or when he glances at himself in a window when he walks past or whatever. You know what I mean.

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