Florence Vassy is on nobody's side (familiarscene) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2017-08-31 22:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !netpost, *briege, *rachel, florence vassy, freddie trumper |
Freddie and Florence
Just After Regression Plot
Their Apartment
PG
Complete |
Florence was conflicted. Nothing had changed in regards to her relationship with Freddie. Not really. The reasons they’d broken up were still there. But, the regression back to when they were together. That, that brought the good memories back to the front of her memory. Made them fresher, somehow. And, it wasn’t like she hadn’t loved him. Or even ever stopped. But, she knew she didn’t deserve to be treated like the shit on the bottom of his shoe, like he had been in the later days of their relationship. They’d been together 7 years, and mostly they were good years. And, she’d once had no doubt that he loved her. But, it had been harder and harder to reconcile that with the way he’d treated her. So, yeah. Now she was conflicted. And, had a day off, while Freddie was still lecturing at the University. And, she’d decided to just stay in, get some cleaning done, and listen to music. However, as it got later she instead found herself with a cup of tea, and trashy daytime television instead. She had no idea what she was watching, but it was strangely absorbing. He’d gotten back late. Partly because he was marking and partly because of not being entirely sure yet what he might have been walking into. It was a little awkward he would admit. Florence was his ex. His very complicated messy ex. He’d loved her once, hell, he probably still loved her on some level. But he’d screwed it up and pushed her right into the arms of that Commie bastard Anatoly. He couldn’t deny his part in it. And yet he still was defensive, arrogant even. He didn’t know what made him act like that, or at least act like that around her. He got in hoping she’d be out on her day off. But of course she was right there. “Hey” he said simply, on his way to the kitchen to make a coffee. He eyed the kettle suspiciously, all these years and it was still something he had never used. “You just been sat here all day?” “Hi” Florence looked up with a smile as Freddie got in. Before turning back to the trash she was watching on the telly. She was still amazed at the variety of channels and shows there were. But, for some reason the drama in the random trashy soup she’d ended up watching had just pulled her in. It was familiar, in some ways, she guessed. “No, I did a bit of cleaning and organising.” She replied, looking up with a slightly incredulous look on her face. “Can’t you tell?” “You cleaned, organised and watched trashy soaps. How very Beverly Hills of you” he said amused. The show looked awful. But whatever she wanted to do and all… He focused on the coffee for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out how messed up everything had gotten and how the hell they both lived here like this. “....place looks good though. Thanks for...doing that.” he finally said. “If I make coffee can we watch something that doesn’t make me want to gouge out my eyes and ears.” Florence chuckled lightly at the Beverly Hills comment, before obligingly turning the tv over to something less trashy. Still with no idea really why she’d found it so interesting. She guessed it was the easy distraction from the drama and chaos her own life contained. “Any preference, or shall I just put the news on?” She asked, as Freddie started making the coffee. “The news works, or a documentary or something. I just really want to keep my brain cells. We may not be as busy here but there’s no reason to let ourselves become soap opera people.” It didn’t occur to him as he finished making the coffee and brought hers to her that he still knew exactly how she took it. The little drop of milk that most people got wrong To him it was just habit. He hadn’t always been so horrible to her. Or her to him. “How have you been settling anyway? I mean, it's been an interesting change, lecturing, though I’m already setting up a Chess Club in the university” Florence smiled a little, as she realised he still remembered the little things. A reminder of when things were good between them. And, a part of her wondered if without all of the media attention, and politics that maybe it would never have stopped being good. “Good, it’s a lot less stressful helping with intake, than being the personal assistant to a chess champion.” She replied. Well aware that maybe she’d eventually get bored of it. But, for now it was a nice change. “I’m glad you’re enjoying lecturing. Have you come across anyone who has potential at this chess club of yours?” “And I guess, I wasn’t the easiest guy to PA for” he admitted with a wry grin. He’d admitted a lot to himself about the last few years. He hadn’t quite reached Fischer levels of crazy but he’d gone too far. Lost her. Neither of them were saints but saying it all over again would be too hard. He’d told her he loved her, tried to win her back and she’d turned away. He wasn’t going to do that again. “A few. No one on my level but that wasn’t likely. I’ll keep an eye on a few of them, see how they do.” Florence smirked slightly, “You weren’t all bad.” She admitted, albeit slightly reluctantly. “I bet Fischer was worse. I feel sorry for his poor PA.” Things were complicated, but she really did enjoy his company. “Come and sit down with me.” She said patting the sofa next to her, and flipping the channels until she found a decent documentary. It had been a long time since they’d just been normal. They didn’t have to be a couple to be normal. He sat down nearer her happy enough with the documentary she’d chosen. “I looked it up, he went nuts and joined a cult then got all anti American and wound up seeking asylum in Japan to avoid deportation.” Florence laughed, a sound that Freddie hadn’t caused in a long time. “I don’t think you could ever be anti-American.” Still laughing, she tucked her feet under herself, relaxing into the sofa, and taking a sip of her coffee. Enjoying being normal for once. “If I ever even hint that I am? Kill me.” he said only half kidding. He was proud of where he was from. He really was. And a part of him knew Sergievsky had been too. In his way. But that was a little too far to admit right now. For now this was good. This was enough. |