Bridget Carys Llywelyn (symphony_muted) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-04-18 21:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | bridget llywelyn, saint david |
WHO: David Iwan and Bridget
WHAT: past and present collide (Originally posted by David)
WHEN: Sunday night
WHERE: Happy home sweet home
WARNINGS: Likely a lot of schmoop.
Iwan sat inside with a book, two cats and a dog. It was pouring with rain, a perfect excuse to stay inside and not go out, and read some of the books on Bridget's shelves that he didn't remember having read before. Even the children's books, like the book he was reading currently. The Silver Chair, by CS Lewis. Something in the stories resonated in him, and he'd read the first five books over the last two days, unable to put them down. One cat was sprawled on his lap and the other curled between his thigh and the arm of the sofa, while the dog lay against his feet.
It was wonderful how easily he'd settled in here. He still felt a little tentative about sharing a bed with Bridget, but she was still all smiles and welcoming kisses (and remembering that made him blush with pleasure at the memory) and not for a second did he feel he didn't belong. He never wanted to leave the little bubble they seemed to find themselves in. The animals, the garden, the house, and cosy neighbourhood, the beautiful woman... The only shadow was the headaches that still afflicted Iwan every other day or so, reminding him of what he'd lost, and keeping him from being able to move forward and get a job and some stability.
He wished he could share his past with Bridget. He wished he could remember more than a couple of scraps of images of a garden, and the weird monastic dreams that repeated themselves, in which nothing really happened, just gardening and praying and singing. A lot of singing. Beautiful hymns.
Bridget didn't mention her past either, and Iwan could tell that behind the mask was a pain she'd pushed back. It didn't feel right to ask, though, for all she'd given him. He wanted to share her burden, make it easier for her, but he couldn't, not if she didn't want to.
He'd lost his place on the page, eyes focused on nothing as his thoughts overtook him, a slight crease on his brow betraying his concerns.
Bridget was sitting across from him, reading some delightfully naughty historical fiction. She couldn't help that she loved Phillipa Gregory novels so much, despite the fact that they were quite terrible.
Bridget chanced a glance up at the man who made her feel so very happy and comfortable, but when she saw him she couldn't help but notice he didn't look happy or comfortable himself. "Iwan?" Bridget asked softly, lowering the book. "Are you getting another headache?"
Iwan blinked and looked up at Bridget, his train of thought derailed when she spoke. "Pardon? Oh, no, I was just thinking." He gave her a smile. "Just the usual, wondering about my past. And- us. Bridge- if it turns out I'm a serial killer and I just forgot all about it, will you still like me?"
Bridget snorted and then she politely covered the lower half of her face with her book as she laughed. "Iwan! Oh dear." She lowered the book and then rose from the chair. The book was abandoned where she had just been sitting, and she joined him on the sofa. "I can't even imagine you as a serial killer. You're too sweet." She reached up to touch his cheek. "I'll like you, no matter what it turns out you are," she said firmly.
Iwan smiled at her laughing at him, and put his book aside too so he could hold Bridget's hand and kiss her palm. "Good," he said. "Because I love you and it'd break my heart if you didn't like me any more." He held Bridget's hand between both of his, keeping it safe between them.
Bridget smiled widely at his words. He was just so wonderful and she couldn't help but hope that it all wasn't a lie they were living. It wasn't Iwan who would be left behind if he suddenly remembered he was actually someone who wasn't interested in relationships. Or had one already. It would be her. She would be left with the memory of a man who had never really existed.
"Not possible," she whispered.
The cats got grumpily displaced and the dog let out a huff and went to join his brother in the dog basket as Iwan pulled Bridget close to him so he could kiss her properly and wrap his arms around her. "I love you," he said again between kisses.
Bridget kissed him right back, loving the feeling of his arms around her. "Iwan-" she whispered against his lips, trying to force herself to not sound sad. She loved Iwan. She didn't know whomever Iwan used to be. And she didn't know how long she was going to have with him.
Bridget realised then that Iwan didn't actually know her past either. He said he loved her, but the person he loved wasn't all of her. Perhaps that put them in the same boat.
Bridget pulled back slightly, running her fingers across his cheek so he wouldn't think he had done anything wrong. "I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "I've been so unfair. I haven't told you a single thing about my past. And I remember it. That isn't fair of me."
"I don't want to press you," he said, squeezing her hand gently, though he did have to admit he was curious. "Even if you're descended from pirates or something, I'll still love you."
Bridget chuckled and she grinned at him, shaking her head at how adorable he was. "I am not descended from Welsh pirates! My father was a teacher and my mother worked at a library. I grew up in Caernarfon, and we spoke Welsh at home because it just seemed natural to do so. My father died when I was five and that was really horrible. He was a wonderful man."
"Oh I'm so sorry," Iwan said, rubbing Bridget's hand sympathetically. He wondered briefly if his own father was still alive. "That must have been hard."
Bridget nodded, but having gotten over the sadness long ago, she didn't show any other outwards signs of upset. "He was very encouraging. I said I wanted to be an actress from the age of three and he told me I could do anything I wanted. I didn't get along with my mother so much, even at five. And then it was just us and my sister.
"My plans never changed. I acted all through school in school and local productions and I told my mother I was going to go to university for theatre and she told me I couldn't."
Iwan nodded, thinking he could see what happened next. "Is your sister still in Wales?" he asked.
Bridget nodded quickly. "My father left us money when he died and it was held in trust until we turned 18. I applied to NYU and I got in. I used the money to pay for my education even though my mother told me I shouldn't. She was so angry with me, but I knew what I wanted and I was still holding on to this promise my father had given me at the age of five that I could do anything I wanted to do."
"So you're a trained actress?" Iwan hadn't been expecting that. "That must have been hard for you, coming to a new country all by yourself. You're very brave."
"I am," Bridget said, grinning widely. She was very proud of that. "It wasn't easy coming here. People made fun of my accent, but mostly people were kind. I missed my sister, but I kept going because I felt like proving my mother wrong was very important. It was misguided and silly. But I graduated and got a job basically right out of school. That's...incredibly rare, but I had worked in their ticketing office for years, so when I auditioned for a show they knew who I was. It was paid work."
"Impressive!" Iwan smiled back at her. "So what happened? Since you're a vet nurse now..."
Bridget bit her lip and hesitated before she told Iwan the next part. "I haven't told anyone the rest. It's...shameful," Bridget breathed. "You might not like me so much when you hear it."
"I won't judge you." Iwan waited patiently for her to speak.
Bridget wasn't so sure, but she went on anyway. "After that first show, I got cast in another one. I had made enough money to go home between them. I wanted to show my mother she was wrong, so I booked a flight without telling them. I hadn't spoken to either my mother or my sister in four years. And when I showed up on their doorstep-" Bridget groaned, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
"Somewhere in those four and a half years, my mother had begun to soffer from early-onset dementia. Alzheimer's. When a disease like that starts early, it progresses quickly. By the time I went back, she didn't remember who I was. She told me stories...about me. About her daughter who was an actress and who had so much talent. And I didn't want to watch her die, so I left."
It struck Iwan just why she spent so much time volunteering with brain injury patients. It didn't sound like she was an awful person, just someone who had been through something she couldn't quite handle. He watched her sympathetically, waiting for her to finish the story.
"I didn't want to act any more after that. It felt...it felt wrong. So I went back to school and that's where I studied veterinary nursing. I had always loved animals, and it seemed like a logical step. The only time I spoke to my sister since leaving was when she called me to tell me my mother had passed away. She was so angry with me for leaving her to take care of everything. And I can understand that."
Iwan nodded, placing a hand on Bridget's shoulder. "I don't think any less of you," he said gently. "It's not too late to try to make amends. And you're doing such good work with your volunteer work... you've helped me so much, if I can be selfish and say that, and I know I'm one of so many."
"It's too late to make amends with my mother," Bridget said sadly. "But she is why I volunteer at the hospital. And that meant I met you," Bridget said with a sweet smile. "I shouldn't have left her, but I was young and it terrified me."
"All you can do is ask for forgiveness and try to make amends. Maybe write your sister a letter? Or try to forgive yourself." Iwan took her hand back between his. He felt closer to her, like her revealing her past to him brought her nearer.
"I don't think my sister would want to hear from me. She told me not to bother," Bridget sighed. That other part...I could work on that." Bridge smiled at him, liking the feeling of her hand wrapped in his.
"You don't think I'm a terrible person?"
"No, of course not." Iwan smiled at her encouragingly. He wouldn't force her to write to her sister of course. But he could help her feel better about herself. "You made a mistake, that's all. And you're atoning for it. You're still a good person."
Bridget didn't know how it was possible that just those simple words made her feel so much better, but they very much did. She wouldn't understand why for a while, but it felt for all the world like she was free from her guilt. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest and suddenly she could breathe again.
Bridget had been sleeping beside Iwan for two weeks now, since the first time he kissed her. She hadn't slept with him yet. He still had headaches and she was trying to move slowly. But he had just made her feel so much better, and so without even thinking twice, Bridget lifted herself up, depositing herself in Iwan's lap.
"Thank you," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him deeply. He had just listened to everything and he still thought she was a good person. That was an impressive test to pass.
Iwan kissed Bridget back just as passionately, holding her close. She made him feel amazing. Surely this had never happened to him before, this amount of love and dedication. He slid his hands up her back under her shirt. He hadn't wanted to rush this, because he didn't know if he was crossing a line to go this far, but she was just... Amazing.
Bridget smiled against Iwan's lips as he kissed her and slid his hands up her back. She leaned down to kiss his neck so she could whisper, "take it off," against his skin.
How could he refuse a request like that? He tugged her shirt up and off, resuming his worship of her skin with his hands. He was moving to unclip the back of her bra when one of the dogs barked at them. Iwan blinked, looking over Bridget's shoulder at them, and grinned.
"Bedroom, perhaps?" he asked, amused.
"Bedroom," Bridget grinned, slipping off his lap and reaching for his hand. She led him upstairs and once the door was closed behind them, she unclipped her bra herself, and turned to face him. It would be the first time he would have seen her without a bra.
Bridget took his hands and she placed them on her chest with a smile. "I want you, Iwan."
Iwan glanced up a moment, letting out a breath, trying to relax himself before he did something stupid like come too soon. He skin was soft and warm, and he was gentle in his handling of her, experiencing it like it was the first time he'd ever done this because he couldn't remember if he had or not. After a moment he wrenched his own shirt off too and pulled her to him by the hips. "You're so beautiful," he said, kissing her.