Malcolm Tucker (fuckitybye) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2012-12-14 16:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | !plot |
Who? Malcolm & Grey
Where? Their apartment
When? Friday
What? Malcolm's wish comes true.
Rating? Strong language, feels
Status? Closed, ongoing.
The well had been there for a fortnight now, and Malcolm had resisted the urge to pick up a coin and make a wish. It was the island - nothing good could come of it, he would end up paying for it somehow, probably in some sadistic way.
So, why on that snowy Friday morning had he thrown caution to the wind and gone for it? He wasn't really sure. Perhaps he was still slightly drunk from the night before.
More honestly, it was probably because of all the Christmas decorations. As much as he hated all of it, there were still thoughts and memories there. Playing along with it when his children were young, trying really hard to make sure he could spend the holidays with them, but considering it a victory if he managed just the one day- and even at that, he'd always end up taking a call halfway through dinner, and his wife would bitch about it in the kitchen as if the walls were somehow soundproof. He hated the kids knowing that they were fighting. He didn't really care what anyone else thought, but he couldn't bear the idea that they would think it was because he didn't care. He didn't want his very presence to be associated with unhappiness, he didn't want to be thought of as the source of the tension. He really did care.
It had been easier, but much worse, after his divorce. No point in taking the day off, but he did, keeping up appearances, pretending he had plans when he didn't. Was it nearly Christmas at home? Did it even matter? He just needed to know that they would be okay without him, and that he could relax, enjoy the island, and let them get on with their lives. There were finances in place for them, and it was better that he was here and not burdening them by being in jail somewhere, anyway. As long as they were okay...
"I wish I could hear from Lucy," he almost whispered, chucking a coin and hearing it drop below.
And then he didn't think about it again. He carried on with the rest of the day. Even later that evening, sitting in their apartment, messing about on his phone, he didn't expect anything to happen.
But then it started to ring... not the one he was holding on to, but his own phone. How did it still have battery life? Had it been turned off? Either way, how could it be ringing now?
Three rings and then he was up like a shot, dashing across the apartment, throwing open the door to his mostly unused bedroom in search of the device. Where was it? Trial. Suit jacket. He found it- the screen was blank, turned off, but it was definitely the source of the ringing. He pressed to answer anyway, and with shaking hands he lifted the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he almost whispered.
"Hey, it's me, how's it going?"
He felt like he was going to be sick. He felt like he was going to faint.
"Lucy?!" he exclaimed, his heart pounding violently in his chest as he waited for a response.