x_moonshine_x (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
x_moonshine_x) wrote2009-04-13 07:56 pm
x_moonshine_x) wrote2009-04-13 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (2/?).
Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (2/?).
Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,241.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.
Chapter 2
Above her the club lights were dancing, spinning, twirling… or perhaps, on second thought, that was just her. Head tipped up toward the ceiling, swaying slightly on the spot, Emma had been stood, mesmerised, for over ten minutes now.
Shot after shot, glass after glass passed by her lips and half an hour ago, she officially lost count, slipping off her barstool with a giggle and making a break for the dance floor. She misplaced her friends at some point, she didn’t know when, but the attention she had received ever since from practically every male within the building could not be complained about and came as the perfect substitute.
Her mother and stepfather were away this weekend. They’d booked a couple of nights in a hotel up North, leaving Emma alone in the house, free to do whatever she wished. Truth was though; she really didn’t want to be alone. Something inside her kept screaming for attention and sitting curled up on the couch with a romcom and a bottle of wine, did not appeal in the slightest.
So, at the first available opportunity, she called up her driver and hotfooted it back into the city to meet her friends.
They didn’t particularly care that Emma already looked as though she was burning the candle at both ends. In fact, the very second she stepped from the car, Eloise whisked her off to The Ritz for a champagne afternoon tea. Following that, a shopping trip in Sloane Street and by early evening, they fell giggling from the doors of Dolce and Gabbana, weighed down with dozens of shopping bags.
While getting ready in Eloise’s Notting Hill flat, she ignored several phone calls from Rupert. Her phone rang again and again, over and over, five times in total (not that she’d been counting) and she forced herself not to care. Lady Gaga had never been so annoying.
oh, oh, oh
i’ll get him hot, show him what I got
oh, oh, oh
i’ll get him hot, show him what I got
Oh how she wished she hadn’t! As far as mistakes went last night had been a pretty major one in the grand scheme of things, she knew that now. She knew that this morning right from the very moment she opened her eyes.
Happily ever afters did not run away from you.
A door slamming knocked Emma from her dreams and her eyes fluttered open. Sleep slipped from her very slowly and gradually she began to piece together the previous night. Beside her, the bed lay cold and empty and immediately, she knew something was wrong.
Scrambling to her feet, she haphazardly pulled on her dressing gown and thundered down the stairs; wrenching open the front door just as Rupert started the engine of the mini. Ignoring (for now at least) her obvious state of undress, she tiptoed her way across the driveway and tapped on the window. He jumped, an inaudible curse escaping his lips before he wound it down and fixed her with a stare.
‘Rupes, where are you going?’ she queried, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear. ‘I was going to make pancakes for breakfast. There’s no one here, we could spend the morning together.’
He sighed, his closed expression giving nothing away as he whispered, ‘I can’t do this now, Emma.’
‘Do… what?’ Emma pulled her dressing gown around her a little more tightly, suddenly feeling quite exposed. She had no reason to be, it was too early for there to be anyone around. No one ever got up before 8am on a Saturday unless they absolutely had to. ‘We’re not doing anything, what’s so hard about-’
‘Stop lying to me,’ Rupert cut across her, turning away and shaking his head. ‘There’s – you’re-’ His frustration was getting the better of him and she took a small step backwards, worried what he might say. ‘You’re not telling me everything.’
Laughing, be it forced, she placed a hand to her head in despair. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Last night, when we-’
‘I’m tired, Rupert! I’m just… tired,’ exclaimed Emma, her temper flaring ever so slightly. ‘Why won’t you believe that? There’s nothing else. I need a break, that’s all. I’m not used to this, I-’
Again, she didn’t get to finish and his words were like a fist. ‘That’s not it,’ he said simply. ‘We’re filming for a few extra months, so what?! Stop spending every moment of your free time partying in London and maybe you’ll feel better.’ He clucked his tongue and when he glanced back at her, she felt her composure creeping away. ‘If that’s it, if you’re just tried, you only have yourself to blame…’
Pressing her lips together tightly, she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and looked instead to her bare feet. She felt cold, as though someone had come along and thrown a bucket of iced water over her, drenching her from head to toe.
‘Don’t go…’ she pleaded.
Rupert frowned. Not so much a closed book now, yet his expression still unfathomable, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
‘I can’t stay.’
And it was as simple as that, for him at least.
Emma turned away, that familiar constriction in her throat letting her know she was about to cry. She couldn’t let him see, not again, not after last night.
Walking slowly, shakily, back toward the house, she wrapped her arms around herself, finding some kind of comfort in her own embrace. She fell back against the door as it closed, the hum of the engine outside pushing her to breaking point and tears began to cascade down her cheeks, her body wracked with sobs. It didn’t take long for her legs to give way beneath her and she dropped to the floor, curling herself up into a ball as she gave herself over to the despair.
Gyrating on the spot, letting the beat of the music take her over, Emma raked her short nails up into the mass of wild hair atop her head. She could stay here in this moment forever, anything to save her going back to reality come Monday morning.
Nineteen and already she could feel her life slipping away from her like grains of sand.
‘Emma! Ready to go? We’re heading out in five!’ Eloise appeared in front of her, giddy excitement radiating off her in waves. At least Emma thought it was excitement to begin with, but now she wasn’t quite so sure.
‘You look whacked,’ she continued, shaking her head. ‘Need to get a few more drinks down you, I reckon.’
Nodding and detaching herself from a brunette with wandering hands, she fell into step behind her friend. Beneath her feet, the floor lay sticky with drinks and she stumbled a few times, reaching out and steadying herself on anything and everything she could get her hands on.
Tottering out onto the street in heels several inches higher than she could actually manage, Emma leant back against a lamppost while one of the other girls hailed a cab. Around her, the world began to spin, streetlights and luminous UVA signs swimming in and out of her vision. That last drink may have been a mistake and sure enough, the second the thought appeared, her stomach gave an involuntary lurch and she turned to the wall.
She would not be sick. Drunk or not, she refused to lower herself to that level.
Inhaling slowly through her nose, eyes fluttering closed, she could hear the girls talking behind her back.
‘Is she all right?’ ‘What the fuck did you give her, Kim?’ ‘Are we going or what? They start charging at one, I don’t want to have to pay to get in that shithole.’
Turning back to them, Emma forced a smile onto her face and walked as soberly as she possibly could toward the cab. She failed though because the second she leant forward to clamber into the back, the driver peered over at her, expression grim, ‘If you’re gonna throw up it’s an extra ten pound, love, cleaning doesn’t pay for itself.’
‘I’m fine,’ she muttered through gritted teeth, collapsing into the seat as Kim and Eloise slid in beside her. ‘Wish people would stop asking me that.’
Ten minutes into the drive, right when she felt comfortably numb, the phone she’d been clutching so tightly to her chest began to ring and everyone turned to stare at her. She, in turn, looked down at the display and instantly regretted it. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? He’d done enough damage already, hadn’t he?
‘Is it him again?’ Eloise’s hand darted out and she made a move to grab the phone. ‘Let me talk to him!’
Kim frowned and asked the indignant question, ‘OK, what have I missed?’
Hesitating, the phone continuing to ring incessantly in her hand, Emma scooted away from them. He was her problem, she didn’t want or need anyone else getting involved, especially not the girls. She dread to think what Rupert would say on Monday morning if either of them answered the call. They’d give him a good talking to, that much was obvious.
The ringing stopped, but the tune continued to resound relentlessly in her ears, driving her slowly insane.
russian roulette is not the same without a gun
and baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun
She let a breath go, laying the phone down on the seat beside her, something she soon came to regret.
Several seconds later, it rang again and this time, Eloise was too quick for her, snatching the iPhone and yelling instantaneously into the mouthpiece, ‘Leave her alone, asshole! She’s not interested in anything you have to say. Now fuck off!’
A silence fell over the cab as she hung up again.
Emma’s mouth fell open shortly afterwards and she soon stammered out, ‘What did you do that for?!’
‘It’s OK, you can thank me later, babes.’
At a complete loss for words, she said nothing else and instead sat back in her seat, her breathing shallow. Oh God, she thought, please don’t listen to her. She felt sick again, her mind reeling as she fought a dizzy spell, waves of nausea threatening to take her over. Leaning into the window, taking comfort in the cool glass pressed against her skin, she closed her eyes and simply prayed.
Surely he wouldn’t take offence to that, this was Rupert, he didn’t offend that easily. Although, all things considered, she probably deserved it, hook, line and sinker.
The club they went to next wasn’t exactly one of her usual haunts and Emma found herself following the girls around in a daze. Music so loud it was almost deafening, the deep bass so aggressive she could feel it to her very core. She stood, lost to the sensations, letting the atmosphere wash over her. She wanted nothing more than to drown in it.
‘Babes?’ squawked Kim. ‘Shots?’
Emma attempted to pretend she hadn’t heard, but soon found herself being dragged over to the bar, Eloise waving a fifty around in the barman’s face.
‘This should get his attention,’ she laughed, perking an eyebrow as he glanced her way. ‘And if not, there’s always the backup plan!’ She pulled her top down a little more, exposing her cleavage.
Her two friends fell into raucous, callous laughter and very slowly, Emma began to feel reality slipping away from her. She dropped down onto the stool Kim pulled out for her, took the shot Eloise offered, knocked it back without a second thought.
This mindless drinking, it had turned into a routine, it all had. Champagne breakfast at The Dorchester, shopping in Harrods, lunch at The Savoy, quick visit to Chanel, champagne afternoon tea at The Ritz. She frittered money away like water, and what made it worse, she didn’t even notice anymore. To her, her bank balance always looked the same. Money meant nothing to her. It was there to be spent; she didn’t care how long it lasted or how long it took.
Moving her weight over to the one arm, Emma slumped against the bar, slamming glass after glass down onto the marble surface, liquid of rainbow colours spilling down her silk top. She used to care, of that she was sure, but after last night what did it matter.
She flitted back and forth between the dance floor and the never ending supply of drinks. Her head span, the ground beneath her feet running away from her, people moving around her in hyper speed, nothing but a blur.
And then everything came to an abrupt stop, mobile phone chiming in the pocket of her skinny jeans.
Nice friends u hav there. Rupe x
Emma blanched, her sudden stillness making her a target in the middle of the mass and someone soon toppled into her, knocking her to the floor and sending her phone skidding across the highly polished floorboards. She dived for it, skinning her elbows in the process and dirtying her knees.
‘NO!’
Her cry, lost in the din, was heard by no one. And there, on hands and knees in the middle of a dirty dance floor, Emma Watson received a rather apt reality check; a kick in the head and a stiletto heel through the screen of her mobile phone.
Perhaps Rupert had been right after all, she really did only have herself to blame.
.x.
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I do feel sorry for her, and no, I don't think you're a bitch
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Good on both counts I think!
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