paristhecity-blog

[paristhecity-blog]

The thing about this conversation was that he needed to be able to read between the lines,which was something that Paris wasn't particularly good at, especially not in his current state right now.

However, he was really suspicious of this and he knew that part of what Dublin was telling him wasn't true-- or the whole truth. Dublin was hiding something, and with every single message he got a little more clearance.

Had Dublin done this on purpose? Had he been out to get to him? That was something that Paris had always feared, why he had always tried to remain secretive about any of his personal feelings. However, right now that didn't make quite so much sense, unless Dublin had been trying to get to London now as well. And weren't they close? Yes. So close indeed that it made Paris feel sick all over again.

I feel like there is something you are not telling me. London is not herself, and you know why.

Paris had to continue doing this. There was no other way.

Please do tell me. I am concerned.

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

dublinthecity:

Paris’ message confused him. What did he mean with ‘what did you do’? Before it seemed like Paris was being snide, but maybe that was Dublin interpreting it all wrong. It didn’t help that Paris was shit at texting…

But if Paris didn’t know, then that meant London hadn’t told him. Why? When she seemed so determined on being honest, why would she lie? London didn’t back out of things normally, especially not if she knew that this was worth something. London not saying anything to keep what she and Paris had intact made no sense. Then there would be a lie in the foundation of whatever they’d build and London could never do that. London needed this to work out the right way, once and for all… so if she hadn’t said anything…did that mean that she knew?

Fuck. Had she figured it out? Had she figured out Dublin’s plan? But then why not text him? Why not call him back.

Oh, that’s weird. Did she say anything to make you think she was unhappy about something?

This was so confusing–emotionally and because it was so hard to find out how everyone was feeling–that he had no idea how he stood anymore. He hadn’t expected this much uncertainty to be part of his plan.

Is something the matter with her?

Seeing all these things coming from Dublin was making Paris angry. Of course Dublin would know that London would be unhappy with something. She had told Paris that she would explain it, somehow, and if she had really done as she said she would, Dublin would know exactly what was wrong. 

However, he now had to know much more about this. Dublin seemed to have something to hide with the way he was formulating his messages, or perhaps he had thought that London would lie to him about this, or simply not mention it. However, Paris didn’t believe for one second that Dublin thought Paris would have no problem with this. He could continue to deny that anybody knew about him and London, but he wasn’t stupid. Of course everybody knew. Everybody had always known. 

She just looked distraught. She did not even want to be followed. 

He took a deep breath and stared down at his shaking hand. He really had to calm down to be able to do this properly, but fortunately that was much harder through a telephone. Dublin would not be able to see his expression, or the way he’d started to shake with rage. 

I just asked you the same question. What has happened? Do you know? 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

dublinthecity:

Like I said, I haven’t heard from her and I’m concerned.

Dublin had no idea how to communicate that to Paris, who was most likely not feeling all too happy with what was currently going on. If London wasn’t with him, then where was she? What had she told Paris? How much did London even remember… or realise?

So she’s not with you?

Paris didn’t like the conversation they were having one bit, and neither did he trust Dublin to tell the truth right now. Was there a way to figure out more about what happened? Did Paris really want to? Spending energy on this even more felt like a stab to the heart, but he also couldn’t let this rest. He wouldn’t do anything but think about this anyway. 

She is. In the city. 

This wouldn’t do it, though, would it? He needed more, but his heart was pounding. This had to go right. He had to get both stories, perhaps to confirm. He wanted something more... a confirmation. Anything. He couldn’t just move on if this was happening, could he? His mind would not leave him alone. 

She went for a walk, but she has been away for hours. I do not know what kind of night you have had, but she seemed distraught. What did you do?

Perhaps a lie would do. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

dublinthecity:

Dublin rolled his eyes and almost wanted to toss his phone away at how fucking shady that comment was, but he was texting Paris for a reason.

Was there over the weekend, but haven’t heard from her since she left to go to you. Have you seen her?

He supposed this meant Paris knew and was angry–as he’d expected–which meant that Dublin’s plan had worked. He’d cut this off before London could carry on dreaming, but instead of feeling relieved, he just felt even more guilty. Why wasn’t London asking him for help?

Is she still with you? In the city?

The longer he thought about all of this, the harder it begun to sting. He had wanted to simply forget about it and finally-- for once-- move on, but the one person he didn’t want anything to do with now, was making that impossible. Paris wished he could just stop caring about all of it. He always did. 

He stared down at it, not knowing what to do. It was as though everything about his surroundings had slowed down. It just wouldn’t stop. He had no idea what Dublin might want from him, what Dublin might expect from him. 

He closed his eyes for a small moment, letting his thoughts wander. He asked himself again; Why had Dublin decided to talk to him again? Why did he know that London had been here, right after what they had done together? What sense did that make?

Why are you asking me this? 

He tried, trying to figure it out. He had to know this, because apparently moving on had been made impossible now. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

Paris spend some time looking at the telephone, trying to figure out why this had happened. Why had Dublin messaged him and why was he asking Paris where London was. Dublin knew. Dublin would know. Why?

He wanted to play dumb, but that wasn't only because he wanted to know why Dublin cared. He also just wanted to act as though this hadn't happened. It hurt too much. He didn't want it.

I thought she was with you. Wasn't she, Dublin?

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

Paris didn't move. He hadn't moved in days, because he simply couldn't. There were so many thoughts that had run through his mind, so many feelings he couldn't talk about. He couldn't even write about them, he had noticed, because his thoughts were messy, and then they were not at all. He figured he would just sleep to distract himself, perhaps in the hope that he would be better once he woke up, get new ideas, better ways of coping, but it didn't come. He was hurt this time, and he couldn't make himself believe it would just fade, that it was right what had happened. It wasn't right at all. London had messed it up, and now Paris was the one who stood powerless. Not a single thing he could do, but forgive, which he would never do. Couldn't do. Didn't want to do.

He had paid no mind to his telephone, because the thing alone was yet another reminder of London. She had given this to him and he had used it only to make her happy. She wanted to communicate with him quickly sometimes, and that's what that thing had been for, but now he had barely paid it any attention. It hadn't been buzzing either.

It made a noise when it was becoming clear that the battery was going to run dry any minute now. He'd wanted to ignore that too, but it had started to become so repetitive that he had to get up from his bed to find it. He didn't want to hear it. He wanted everything to leave him alone and let him deal with this in peace. The last thing he needed was a message from London saying that she was sorry once again, because that didn't matter. Paris believed that she was sorry, but that wasn't the point. He hoped she would stay that way.

When he unlocked his screen, he noticed that it wasn't London who had been sending him any messages, but Dublin was. He hadn't expected that, considering what had happened, and he was about to shut the telephone off when he could find the strength to think about this for a second. Why would Dublin have sent him this message? Did he not have any dignity whatsoever, considering he must have been well aware of the arrangement between him and London. Why would he contact him and rub it in? How did that make any sense at all? It didn't.

His hands were shaking with rage at the name on his screen, and this wasn't something he felt he could stop, but at least it was better than the complete emptiness he had felt over the past couple of days. Perhaps, if London really wanted to do this, Paris would play into it. Perhaps he could make it seem like he didn't care about this anymore, like he had mostly been able to push himself out of this mess and just move on. If he could make Dublin believe this, then surely he could do that with London too, couldn't he?

Perhaps then he could finally start to work on moving on, but until then he'd have to just pretend. To not let anybody notice exactly what state he had been in.

She is not. Why do you ask? >

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

All she could keep on thinking was no no no no no. It didn’t change the situation. It didn’t change the fact that something was happening now that had to stop. She covered her face with her hands again and tried to breathe, but it was impossible. She was panicking, trying to search her mind for something that could reverse what was going on. She didn’t regret telling him, because he had a right to know, but she regretted everything else.

“I’m– I’m so stupid,” she said finally. Her voice was much softer than it’d been before. It was much softer than Paris’ voice had been, which still echoed through her mind, unstoppable. Get out. “I don’t know why it happened,” she continued, through her tears. “I can’t explain it. I didn’t even want to… I didn’t want it, but somehow– I got drunk. I… I didn’t want to break that promise. I wasn’t going to– I can’t–”

She pulled her hands down when it became clear enough that she wasn’t going to get a proper sentence out. She looked up at him. “I can’t go,” she said again. “If you want me to go, you’ll have to– I don’t know. I can’t walk away.”

His threat had not been responded to, and instead he got the explanation that wasn’t an explanation at all. It was an excuse, and Paris knew that all too well, because if she really wouldn’t have wanted it, she would have made sure that it couldn’t. It had now, so it was too late. 

So much for trying. 

When once again, he was told that she wouldn’t go, he decided it was enough. He took a hold of both of her wrists and started to drag her towards the door so that he could finally work her out. He wasn’t hurting her any more than that, but he needed to breathe. He needed to not share a space with her as small as this one was, because he couldn’t bear to see it. 

He opened the door in an instant, quite literally throwing her out of his house. Without granting her another look or word, he shut the door behind him, unable to understand what had just happened or why it had happened. He had so wanted this day to be good. He had so been looking forward to it. But it couldn’t be.

He had really thought it might work out this time, if the both of them just tried hard enough, but of course it hadn’t been possible. Of course he was still asking too much of her, even if she had agreed to it. Of course it just... simply couldn’t be. How much longer was he going to delude himself into thinking that it could? How much longer was he going to allow himself to be hurt like this, over and over again?

He couldn’t do it. This was it. It had to stop, and all he had to do was try. For good this time. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

This wasn’t like other times, where Paris was shouting at her for not having lived up to some impossible expectation he had of her. This was Paris being angry at her for something she promised she would do, but had then failed to. If Paris hadn’t just tossed her to the floor, she might’ve smacked herself in the face. It wouldn’t be enough, because frankly nothing hurt enough to make her stop feeling the turmoil of emotions that were currently reaching a level she could no longer cope with in any sort of reasonable way.

She shook her head, while getting back up onto her feet and facing him. “No, no, no…” she said, as if the more often she’d say it the better he’d understand. “I can’t.” She moved a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face, before looking at him. “I can’t,” she said again, more helpless this time. If it came down to it, Paris could toss her out at his own discretion and there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it.

“It was– is important to me. Nothing is more important,” she said. Her heart was hurting so much that she couldn’t figure out how it was still functioning at all. She couldn’t deal with the distance between them. She couldn’t deal with it because there were no words that could breach it, so instead she flung herself at him and grabbed hold of him as tightly as possible, while fully aware this might just make him angrier. “You are more important. This means everything… Please believe me!” But she had told a lie only yesterday, so why would he? “Please believe me…”

When London grabbed a hold of him, Paris could no longer take it. He stood still for just a little while as if he was deciding what he would do next, but that wasn’t the case at all. The truth was that he was trying to stop himself from exploding now, standing still because there was absolutely no way he could do anything else.  This had to stop, but it wasn’t. London had to go, but she wasn’t. 

It didn’t take him that long, and although in some ideal situation he would want to just grab a hold of her and forget this ever happened, he couldn’t. Something about the situation was different this time, and that was the fact that Paris now knew that this could never be right. If there was a time to come to accept that, it was now. It would never be okay again, because London couldn’t be trusted to keep to her promises.... It had only been a day ago since she had. 

He looked down at her, at how she was trying to find comfort in the fact that Paris was still there, about how she was trying to fix it while crying so openly and showing her hurt. This made Paris feel sick beyond reason. If he didn’t do something now, he felt like he might be sick for real. “How dare you?!” He said, taking a hold of her shoulders in order to push her away. Paris didn’t know how exactly this was possible, but he wasn’t hurting her. He wouldn’t do that no matter how badly he wanted to, because this... This was going to hurt her more. He wasn’t going to break his promise of trying to be reasonable, even if she had already broken hers. “How dare you?!” He repeated. 

He did push her off then, but not too hard. Maybe under different circumstances he would have wanted her to suffer, but he didn’t want that now. Not like that. He wanted her to suffer, but not physically. That might make her forget what she had done, and he didn’t want that. He wanted her to feel the full impact of it, and so he stood still and looked at her. He was angry, furious, and he looked it too, but he wasn’t doing anything. He could keep himself contained if that meant London would hurt as much as he did, if not more. 

“It is over now.” He stated, fully standing behind it. “You cannot fix this, because I will never trust you again. Never. Go, now. Go back to your lovers and be with them. Is that not easier for you, London? To not be tied down anymore? I do not want you anymore. Go, or I will get you removed like the humans do it.”

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

Paris couldn't listen to her apologies, because it didn't meant anything. Nothing did and nothing would, and London had made that perfectly clear to him. If she hadn't been able to keep to her promise, then how sure could he be certain of the sincerity behind her apology? He couldn't. She was panicking, but what did that mean? She hadn't been able to do a single thing of what she had promised to him, and the more Paris seemed to think about that, the angrier he started to feel. He couldn't do this.

He didn't listen and continued to try and drag her out. He didn't think that driving her out would in any way relieve him of all the pain, but at least it would give him space again. He really didn't want to see her anymore. He really couldn't bear it. "GET OUT!" He said yet again, the intensity behind his words making him so angry that he pulled her back so hard that she would fall to the floor. He took a few steps back at that, as he suspected she would get to her feet soon enough again.

He looked at her as she laid on the floor, his heart beating faster than it had in ages. He was angry, but hurt most of all, and nothing physical was going to relieve him. Especially not while London was doing everything she could to stay in this house, to get him to talk to her. Perhaps he would.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, but that didn't do anything to get his breathing back under control. The moment he opened his mouth, however, his thoughts started to escape. There was no way to stop it now. "You promised me! You promised me it would not be important to you! You said you could do this, for me! You said you would!" Perhaps none of this made much sense, but nothing did. It hurt too much. "You made me believe as though this was important to you, but it is not! You cannot play me anymore, London, I will not allow it." His heart was hurting with how fast it was beating. "I don't want to see you again. It is over now. So, please. Get OUT!"

saving london

paristhecity

Once Paris was alone, it felt like he was counting down for it all to go completely wrong. He felt empty at first, but then the rage began. He started to shake, breathing heavily as he desperately looked around himself to find a way to let it out, but there was nothing there. He needed to destroy things, to shatter them all around himself so that part of his growing anger could disappear. He’d deal with the aftermath. He always did. And then it might be better, as it always would be. Would it?

Paris felt sick. He’d been betrayed in the worst way possible, and this time he knew for a fact he hadn’t been unreasonable. He’d asked. He’d not demanded anything from London. Nothing. He’d just asked, and London had said yes, because they both needed to compromise. A little bit at least.

Had it been too much to ask? No. no it hadn’t. At all, because Paris had said he was going to be working on accepting this if she could just do this for him, for a little while. She’d said yes. She’d promised.

The last thing Paris wanted right now was to be followed, because as soon as the door opened he felt like he was going to lose his mind all together. He couldn’t contain himself anymore, and worst of all: he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to keep himself together, because what did it matter? Even when he had so desperately tried keeping himself together, everything had still failed. It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

“GET OUT!” He yelled now, instantly grabbing a hold of her wrist to pull her hand off her shoulder. He didn’t want to be touched by her right now. He wanted to be alone and forget this had ever happened. Again. However, it wasn’t rage that he was blinded by. That was just a side effect. No, it was hurt. Immense pain. Agony. Betrayal.

He let go of her wrist and pushed her away from himself. He wanted to keep doing this, keep pushing her until she was away, until she was hurting as much– no, more– than he was, but no. No. he didn’t want her to see him broken like this. He didn’t want her to know just how much of an impact she had on him, even if she already knew that. He wanted to just be angry, because if he gave into the hurt, he didn’t know where that would lead him.

“GET OUT!” he repeated, but he wanted to say so much more. His heart was beating fast and neither the push nor the words were making him feel like he’d spent enough energy. He had too much of it. “You… you promised! You said… GET OUT!” He grabbed her wrist again and dragged her towards the door. He wanted her gone. So badly.

She was trembling badly as she stood before him, while trying very hard to contain her tears. It didn’t feel fair to be crying, because she wasn’t the one betrayed. He was. And she was to blame. She didn’t have a right to act on any of the things she was feeling, but that didn’t mean she could stop. The urges were too strong and no matter how many times he’d shout for her to get out, she couldn’t go. She couldn’t even stir to put distance between them. It hurt too much.

There were no words that could make this any better, or at least no words she could think of, but they were so fucking necessary right now. If only she could say something that would make him feel… better, something that would make him want to talk to her, or shout at her for a little longer.

“No,” she said when he began to physically drag her to the door. Her hand immediately moved to his in an attempt to pry her arm free, while she gave as much resistance as she could. “No, no don’t! Don’t!” She was pleading now, because her desperation had reached a level that was far beyond reason. She couldn’t ignore these feelings, because they were too big and she could not be away from Paris now. Not like this. Not forever. Not… again.

She tugged harder on his grip and began to struggle more violently when it became apparent that he really had the upper hand in this fight. She reached out to take hold of anything so he wouldn’t be able to keep pulling her. “Let go! Let me go, Paris! I’m sorry! PLEASE!” She was crying openly now. “I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry! Please don’t– don’t throw me out!”

[paristhecity-blog]

Once Paris was alone, it felt like he was counting down for it all to go completely wrong. He felt empty at first, but then the rage began. He started to shake, breathing heavily as he desperately looked around himself to find a way to let it out, but there was nothing there. He needed to destroy things, to shatter them all around himself so that part of his growing anger could disappear. He'd deal with the aftermath. He always did. And then it might be better, as it always would be. Would it?

Paris felt sick. He'd been betrayed in the worst way possible, and this time he knew for a fact he hadn't been unreasonable. He'd asked. He'd not demanded anything from London. Nothing. He'd just asked, and London had said yes, because they both needed to compromise. A little bit at least.

Had it been too much to ask? No. no it hadn't. At all, because Paris had said he was going to be working on accepting this if she could just do this for him, for a little while. She'd said yes. She'd promised.

The last thing Paris wanted right now was to be followed, because as soon as the door opened he felt like he was going to lose his mind all together. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and worst of all: he didn't want to. He didn't want to keep himself together, because what did it matter? Even when he had so desperately tried keeping himself together, everything had still failed. It didn't matter. Nothing did.

"GET OUT!" He yelled now, instantly grabbing a hold of her wrist to pull her hand off her shoulder. He didn't want to be touched by her right now. He wanted to be alone and forget this had ever happened. Again. However, it wasn't rage that he was blinded by. That was just a side effect. No, it was hurt. Immense pain. Agony. Betrayal.

He let go of her wrist and pushed her away from himself. He wanted to keep doing this, keep pushing her until she was away, until she was hurting as much-- no, more-- than he was, but no. No. he didn't want her to see him broken like this. He didn't want her to know just how much of an impact she had on him, even if she already knew that. He wanted to just be angry, because if he gave into the hurt, he didn't know where that would lead him.

"GET OUT!" he repeated, but he wanted to say so much more. His heart was beating fast and neither the push nor the words were making him feel like he'd spent enough energy. He had too much of it. "You... you promised! You said... GET OUT!" He grabbed her wrist again and dragged he towards the door. He wanted her gone. So badly.

saving london

paristhecity

All evening and all night, he had kept himself contained, hoping that it would eventually be worth it. London had promised him and Paris had believed it, because that was what he was supposed to do. He’d been told so, learning how to trust her and believe that she wanted this just as much as he did. She did, didn’t she? That’s what they both did…

Paris had requested to take things slow and London had agreed. He’d only just now started to try this and it was all new, but he could do this now, as long as they could be open about everything and talk as people talked, they could. Paris had thought.

Well.

Well.

He was just staring at her now.

The smile that he had put on when he’d first seen her at the station was now gone. In fact, there was no trace of it having been there in the first place, but what could he say? He hadn’t even caught up with his thoughts just yet, and now this was happening. He was breaking.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, after which he could feel that he’d started to laugh. He didn’t know why, probably for the lack of anything better. It didn’t last long either, as his hands had started to shake and the pain in his chest had become so overwhelming that it made him feel sick.

His head hurt. Yeah. Everything did. And the worst thing about it was that he wasn’t getting angry like he normally would. It had no build up. There had not been an anger that had been raging inside of him for days that had finally needed to come out. No, he hadn’t felt that anger in a while in the first place, so it wasn’t coming now either. It was just pain. Agony. But he could do nothing.

She’d promised. He’d believed it. Trusted it. No.

He shook his head and swallowed hard. He stepped closer towards her, but none of it gave her an indication of what he was going to do. Was he going to do anything, though? No.

No. She had to.. No.

No.

Please.

Not yet

He didn’t look at her when he stepped past her, but his heart was beating so fast that he felt it was going to give out. He was hurt beyond reason, but he wanted nothing more than to just… be here. This had failed. All of it. It had all been for, well. Nothing.

“Get out.” he said softly, then speeding up his pace to reach the living room. He grabbed a hold of the door and slammed it shut, outing whatever it was that he was feeling through that. He was about to explode, he could feel it now, but he needed London to go. For good.

London had expected to hear exactly those words, but when they finally came nothing could have prepared her for the impact those words had. It felt like she’d just been stabbed through the chest, except without the relief of quick death.

She watched him, although that didn’t help anything and just made her feel… desperate. That was the only word that began to describe what she was going through. Something was happening that couldn’t be happening. Simply couldn’t be.

That was why there was absolutely no way London could listen to him. She had believed, only yesterday, that things would be different this time. She couldn’t go through this, not now she needed Paris this much, not now they’d come so close to something better…

She stepped towards the door that he’d just slammed shut and pulled it open to follow him. “I can’t go,” she said simply, wishing she’d been able to convey how desperate she felt into those words, so he would understand. “I’m… so sorry. I got drunk. I– I don’t know how it happened!” That was true, but it didn’t matter, because she’d still done it.

She closed the distance between them and took hold of his shoulder, because she had to. It didn’t matter that he was angry and that she knew what that meant. She’d risk it. “I need you! I can’t go. I can’t!”

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

She was glad that they didn’t talk much on the journey. Paris seemed to be content just to have her close and she was glad to be there, even though the guilt was starting to become unbearable. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her expression blank.

Once they made it back to Paris’ home she wished she could simply fall down onto his bed and pull him close, like she would have done if nothing had happened. They’d probably kiss for minutes on end, talk quietly in between, make love…

Now everything was too quiet and she didn’t know what to do. Her heart was beginning to race and her eyes were stinging with tears. There was absolutely no way she could hold this in any longer, so she looked at him, despite how much her eyes were watering.

How did she bring this? Just the plain truth. There was nothing else for it. “I slept with him. Last night.”

All evening and all night, he had kept himself contained, hoping that it would eventually be worth it. London had promised him and Paris had believed it, because that was what he was supposed to do. He’d been told so, learning how to trust her and believe that she wanted this just as much as he did. She did, didn’t she? That’s what they both did... 

Paris had requested to take things slow and London had agreed. He’d only just now started to try this and it was all new, but he could do this now, as long as they could be open about everything and talk as people talked, they could. Paris had thought. 

Well. 

Well. 

He was just staring at her now. 

The smile that he had put on when he’d first seen her at the station was now gone. In fact, there was no trace of it having been there in the first place, but what could he say? He hadn’t even caught up with his thoughts just yet, and now this was happening. He was breaking. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, after which he could feel that he’d started to laugh. He didn’t know why, probably for the lack of anything better. It didn’t last long either, as his hands had started to shake and the pain in his chest had become so overwhelming that it made him feel sick. 

His head hurt. Yeah. Everything did. And the worst thing about it was that he wasn’t getting angry like he normally would. It had no build up. There had not been an anger that had been raging inside of him for days that had finally needed to come out. No, he hadn’t felt that anger in a while in the first place, so it wasn’t coming now either. It was just pain. Agony. But he could do nothing. 

She’d promised. He’d believed it. Trusted it. No. 

He shook his head and swallowed hard. He stepped closer towards her, but none of it gave her an indication of what he was going to do. Was he going to do anything, though? No. 

No. She had to.. No. 

No. 

Please. 

Not yet

He didn’t look at her when he stepped past her, but his heart was beating so fast that he felt it was going to give out. He was hurt beyond reason, but he wanted nothing more than to just... be here. This had failed. All of it. It had all been for, well. Nothing. 

“Get out.” he said softly, then speeding up his pace to reach the living room. He grabbed a hold of the door and slammed it shut, outting whatever it was that he was feeling through that. He was about to explode, he could feel it now, but he needed London to go. For good. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

London knew there wouldn’t have been a way to hide all of it, so she hadn’t tried to. That’d be more suspicious than anything. Paris probably expected her to be tired in the first place, so it shouldn’t be too big of a surprise. It also made it a little easier to deal with the situation, as now all she had to do was nod and look a little apologetic.

“Yeah,” she said. Damn, making eye contact was hard. “I have no energy to go anywhere else. If you don’t mind.” She smiled a little then, but that just made her feel more sad. Her hand looked for his, because she needed to feel it. This wasn’t going to be okay… and it already felt like an end.

He nodded at her when she admitted that she was tired, which then only made him smile. It wasn’t exactly like he wanted to go anywhere else but home, where everything could just be good again. He hadn’t turned frustrated and he hadn’t wanted to send her away, even though he had felt rather awful at certain points last night. He had suppressed them well. Better than he had imagined. 

He’d taken her home then. He’d kept her rather close because it felt good to have her there. He’d held her hand when she reached out for it and pretty much hadn’t let it go since. In the métro he’d kept her near her as well, which didn’t receive them all too much eyes. Surely she was a lot younger than he looked, but it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. Not strange enough to receive them any more looks than necessary. 

Once he’d shut the door to his house behind them, he looked at her. He’d imagined she’d tell him about her night, or talk him through something else. They’d done a lot of talking over the past couple of weeks, so he had no reason to assume something else was going to happen now. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

dublinthecity:

When Chernobyl got close enough to wrap his arms around London, she stepped back, but her hand remained on her arm. She wondered whether London was in there at all, witnessing this. Was she locked away somehow? Or was she gone? Would Dublin holding onto her give her comfort?

When London’s body jolted, she pulled her hand back immediately and shook her head. “Don’t do that again.” He’d showed the collar off before, so was that all that it had taken to reduce her brain to this? Or was there more? She knew electric shocks could do a lot, but…

“Is that all? Is that all you’ve done to her to make her like this?” she asked, interrupting Paris’ attempt at negotiating somehow. She agreed that this had to end soon, but not before she knew everything. Not before she knew what needed to happen to London.

He made sure the both of them kept their distance, or else he would shock London again. It was a simple concept to understand, so they shouldn’t have too much difficulty following the rules for a bit. He would consider negotiating, as that’s what he’d been willing to do in the first place, but he was quite certain Paris and he wouldn’t come to an agreement any time soon.

“No,” he said simply, to answer Dublin’s question. “That wouldn’t have done it. I needed to do a little more than just that… Didn’t I, baby?” he added, while looking towards London, who was clinging close to him once more. It was fun having people over. It really brought out how much she relied on him and he liked it a lot.

He grabbed hold of her wrist then and quite roughly dragged her towards one of the tables. “If you really want to know,” he said matter-of-factly. “I mean… it’s not like London will tell you.” He made sure to make quick work of this. He grabbed the chain off the table to attach both her handcuffs together behind her back. He moved a hand through her hair gently, while looking into her eyes reassuringly, before grabbing something else off the table.

“There are many ways I could’ve done this of course, but this is by far the easiest and most effective. I mean… it took quite a few tries, but I didn’t mind and she minded a little less each time.”

He pulled the plastic bag over her head, grabbed the duct tape and began to tape it down around her neck, while she was beginning to struggle against him now that she knew what she was in for.

Paris had hoped that Chernobyl would respond to him, but with Dublin still asking questions, he wasn’t going to. This made him look into Dublin’s direction, as if to tell her to stop doing this, that they had to do something else since this now clearly wasn’t getting any better. London was being dragged around again, and neither of them could do anything to stop it now. 

If he’d just gotten the chance to kill him earlier, this wouldn’t have happened. Then they could’ve just worked on London, making her better. 

He took a step forward when he saw what was going on. He didn’t want to let this continue. He just wanted to move forward again, drag him to the ground, but he couldn’t do that since he didn’t know what that would do. He tried to make eye-contact with Dublin again, asking her to pay attention to London somehow... if she would understand that. 

He was in a panic that he had no idea how to stop, but something needed to happen. This needed to end. 

His heart rate was increasing drastically now that he had sort of made a plan, but he felt afraid because he hadn’t yet put it into action. He put a step forward, but his eyes stayed on Dublin’s. They had to understand what was going to happen now. The both of them. 

Disappearance

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

She’d insisted that he stay home and wait for her there, but he’d refused to listen, thinking that this was probably what they both wanted. It was true that she couldn’t wait to see him, but there was no way she could bring the news in public. Yet having to make the journey to his home together was going to be more than a little difficult. She was also afraid that Paris was going to feel tricked for not having been told immediately, even if all she’d meant to do was spare him.

After an unhealthy dose of painkillers and a plenty supply of water she had managed to somewhat suppress the headache, but the dizziness and nausea lingered. Every sudden motion send a jolt through her head, which was unnecessarily disorientating.

She needed to seem natural, so he wouldn’t suspect anything before they got home, but she didn’t want to overdo it. She didn’t want to completely mislead him, because that’d just make everything hurt even more.

The moment she saw him she closed the distance immediately. That was a convenient way to hider her expression, but also a means to steal some comfort now she still could. This might be the last time for a while… The last time she got to feel his arms around her…

Paris felt relieved when he finally saw her and thus didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her. It was what she wanted, and it was what he wanted, so he hardly minded that this was happening in public now. He had decided to let go of that a long while ago. Everybody knew that he and London had a history, eveybody knew that they wanted it to continue. He had to keep going, no matter how nervous it still made him feel to be this close so openly. 

He’d seen that she looked rough, but that wasn’t strange. London often did, because that was what London was like. She spent nights out. She drank the nights away. Paris didn’t think it particularly healthy, but that was how she got on and how she stayed involved, for which reason he couldn’t do anything but love it. 

Just like everything else. He loved. 

“Are you tired?” He asked, trying to sound somewhat playful, as if he knew what she had been up to last night. He could see it, to some extend, though not quite. “Do you want to go to my home?”

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

Sometimes it’d take hours for Paris to respond to her messages, which she had come to appreciate. It meant he was busy, or had forgotten his phone which happened often, or that he simply didn’t feel like looking at it for the time being. It was cute, as well as annoying. The fact that her message was read within seconds of sending it said a lot. He’d kept his phone close and now she’d reassured him all was well, while the reality was that she was about to break his heart.

Good, because I wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

She shut her eyes at those words, but then quickly got off the bed. She felt like garbage, but she was going to do this. She’d have to gather her things, with a pounding headache and hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. Then she’d have to do something about her face, as she currently looked like she’d spent the last three days buried alive.

He’d waited for the confirmation she’d be on the train so he knew when she would arrive. Normally she would know where to find him, but today was different. He wanted to go to her, because he was having difficulty sitting still. It was good that this had gone well, because finally he could grant his heart a bit of a rest. It had been beating fast all of last evening, but then he had not been able to out it. Perhaps he could now. With her. 

He’d waited outside of the Eurostar platform at Gare du Nord, so that he knew she would see him when she finally got out. 

saving london

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

dublinthecity:

When Chernobyl again took this as an opportunity to show off, her teeth gritted and her hand tightened around London’s arm. She didn’t care that this wasn’t exactly London anymore. She was her friend and she needed her help, even though she didn’t know that right now.

“I said ‘tell’, not ‘show’,” she spat, not letting go of London’s arm, even when Chernobyl reached out to take London from her. “Don’t you fucking dare. She’s not your ‘stupid girl’, okay? She’s not your fucking anything. Tell me.” She was glaring at him, but then her eyes found London, who was only becoming more and more afraid now. She wanted to help her, but nothing she could say would get through to her. He’d conditioned her to understand him and only him. But it didn’t matter. This fear was only temporary and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t something she should let go of London for. “Tell us, you fucking cunt.”

Chernobyl dropped his hand back to his side, which in itself drew a scream from London, who probably felt like she was being given up on. He gave Dublin a pointed glare, especially as London continued to struggle only worse and panic more now that she wouldn’t let go.

“Can’t you see how desperate she is?” Chernobyl asked, like Dublin was the one in the wrong. The truth was that it didn’t leave him cold to watch London like this and when she let out another heart-wrenching scream he stepped forward to take matters into his own hands.

He reached out for her and pulled her close, despite how Dublin was still holding her. It’d be easy to tug London away from her now, especially as Paris wasn’t currently involving himself. “Calm down,” he said simply. “Daddy’s got you.” He turned his gaze to Dublin then. “Let’s make this very simple. The both of you stay out of this or I’ll punish her for it. Don’t believe I can?” He moved his hand to his pocket and quickly found the remote there that he always carried with him. He knew how to work these settings blindly and a moment later London’s body jolted with the shock the collar had given her. “I’m sure you don’t want to see a higher setting. It gets quite bad.”

Paris wanted to move fast when he saw that Chernobyl now had some type of remote in his hand. He wasn’t completely sure what it’d do, but he knew for a fact that this wasn’t good. He got back on his feet in an instant, wanting desperately to move towards London, but it was then that her body started to move wit the shock, Paris suddenly stood still. It was clear that Chernobyl wasn’t one to make empty threats, and if that was true, he couldn’t do anything to go against that now. 

Paris was trembling with anger that he couldn’t fight. He needed to stop this, but he couldn’t, because he couldn’t see London go through that She would suvive it, sure, but Paris needed t find the right moment to get her out of that collar, and to get that remote away from Chernobyl too. 

Just how long had it taken Chernobyl to win her over with this? How many shocks had it taken for London to finally turn into the mess she currently was, having forgotten every single thing that she knew. It hadn’t been that long ago since they’d touched, had it? Paris couldn’t believe that this had all happened in the little time they’d spent apart. How? 

“What do you want?” He spoke. His voice was unstable, that much was clear, but he didn’t care. If there was something that they could do, negotiate in some way or another, then perhaps Paris would find a way to see through the act. Perhaps he could end it. “What do you want to get out of this? What.. What do you want?”

Disappearance

[paristhecity-blog]

londonthecity:

London spent the next three hours trying to overcome the worst of her hangover. She had to rush to the bathroom on numerous occasions, tried and failed to get back to sleep, and stared at the chat with Paris that she felt only more guilty for, the longer time went on.

What if he’d wake up soon and wish her a good morning? What if he’d ask about last night before she’d tell? That’d make it worse.

There was one thing London knew for sure and that was that if this was to go wrong, she wasn’t going to let it go wrong over a fucking chat. Paris barely even knew how to type in the first place and that wouldn’t be made any easier by his inevitable rage. She had to go to him, because it might be the last time she’d get to see him for a while…

It took at least sixteen attempts before she got it right, and then it took another ten minutes before she finally dared to sent it. Was it right? Would he suspect anything? Considering how new this whole chatting thing was, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to read anything between the lines. Nothing she wouldn’t be able to set right if he’d ask.

Hey :) So, how about instead of leaving tomorrow, I take the first train after Dublin leaves? Unless you’re utterly unprepared for a sporadic visit, that is.

Paris had tried his very best to distract himself last night, and to a certain degree that had worked. He’d kept himself busy writing down his thoughts and turning them into stories, which he had enjoyed doing enough to not completely lose his mind. He was trying this now. At least now he was showing that he really was. He wasn’t unhappy with how well he had managed, as it was important that he would. He knew that now. 

He’d purposely not taken his telephone to type a message to London again when he woke up. He wanted to know what had happened and he wanted to be assured, but perhaps it was better not to show this kind of weakness right now. He had to keep trying. The night being over didn’t mean that he could stop. 

When his phone buzzed, it took him no longer than a second to finally get to it. He had kept it close to him all evening, even if that was very unlike him to do. It was this moment that he had been waiting for, however, so he couldn’t help but smile. It was over now, then. 

Yes. I would like that very much. 

That would certainly tell her enough. 

saving london