crypt | meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

HARDEST THING TO SAY MEME

Sometimes the hardest things to say are also the most important. It doesn't matter how much it scares you to do so, it's finally time to be honest.

- post as your character.
- others go to RNG and roll numbers 1-22 then respond setting up a scenario.
- respond and have fun!

01. I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE Unfortunately, you can't keep lying to your partner/friend/family anymore. You just don't feel the same for them anymore.
02. I WOULD KILL YOU The person who means so much to you has done something completely unforgivable and now it's time to make sure they know where they stand. You would kill them if you ever got the chance.
03. I LOVE YOU, BUT... A bittersweet love confession. You know you love this person more than anything, but you're not sure you can give them what they need.
04. I DON'T TRUST YOU No matter how you feel about this person, you really can't trust them anymore.
05. SACRIFICE You're going to sacrifice yourself, for the person you're talking with or for the good of all humanity. You want them to know the reasons and that there's no stopping you.
06. TROUBLE You're in trouble and you might not make it through. You need to let at least one person know how you feel before it's too late though.
07. CRIME CONFESSION You did something you weren't proud of and now it's time to admit it.
08. DEMONS We've all got our demons and we've all got our own personal nightmares we have to face, but this time? You can't hold it all back.
09. I'M PREGNANT... Now's not the best time for it maybe or maybe you're just nervous how your partner will react, but they need to hear it.
10. BETRAYAL You've betrayed this person and you have to tell them the truth, no more running from it
11. CHEATED You've been unfaithful and it's time to tell your lover.
12. BROKEN That's it. You've had it. You are entirely broken and tired of everything.
13. AFRAID Something has you deathly afraid and you need to talk about it.
14. HELP ME You need someone to help you, bad. You can't do it alone anymore, you've tried.
15. I'M SORRY You said something or did something horrible and now it's time to ask for forgiveness.
16. YOU WERE A MISTAKE Sorry, but whoever you're talking to was the biggest mistake of your life or maybe it was just something you did together.
17. NOT WHO I SAY I AM You're so far from who they think you are, you need to finally tell the truth.
18. LET'S RUN AWAY You want to just get out, leave everything behind and be with this one person for the rest of your life.
19. ASHAMED Either you're ashamed of something they have done or something you did, either way you need to bring it up.
20. CAN'T REMEMBER The person standing in front of you looks so happy to see you, so relieved, but how do you tell them you can't remember a thing about them?
21. HOW COULD YOU You don't understand how they could treat you like they have, do what they have done when you've done nothing but be good to them.
22. YOUR CHOICE Either choose an option from above, mix and match, or make up your own idea.

yep. totally stolen from memebells.
frolic with your subject lines and be free!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As hard as it was, having him look at her like she was almost a stranger, it would've been worse to lose him completely. That would've broken her. No, she would never wish for the opposite, not ever. Not even if he never remembers her or anything about their lives, their blossoming love, anything. He was alive and relatively well, she could not be more thankful for that. She'd do all she could to help him however she could.

"I'm glad I did it too," she remarked because being a comfort to those who needed it, well sometimes she imagined that he was one of those boys she was comforting. Or she hoped that some nurse out there would be as kind to him when he needed it, if he ever came home. Perhaps it was also good practice just in case he'd need some nursing when he came home. Either way, she was glad to do her bit, just like he had done his. "And I'm sure the boys who wanted me to marry them appreciated it too," she laughed softly before tipping the pot to drain the water, carefully.

"There's sweet sun tea on the window sill over there if you'd like that. It should be done by now. I started it a few days ago." Actually right before she left for the store and saw him. "And there's ice in the icebox if you'd like it chilled." She pulled the pot back before moving to get the milk and butter from the fridge, checking the roast on the way. "I don't mind. It's nice to have something to do." And especially for him. But still, her father hadn't wanted her to go into the hospital. And he preferred her to stay around the house when he was away, he took the car after all. "I'm sure she does. Your brother and sisters aren't there anymore and they need someone young and spry to get the job done."

He was, admittedly, glad to be alive and not the opposite, because he'd seen far too much death. He was ready to leave it all behind, even if things were strange here, so quiet and peaceful, the peace almost jarring because he could only remember the lack of it. He hadn't slept well the past two nights, every little creak or sigh of the house waking him, dreams fitful and dark when he had them. They were full of images he couldn't quite bring into focus, sounds he couldn't quite hear, and it had been that way since he'd gotten hit. He'd woken almost every morning feeling anything but rested, at least mentally, but still, he'd rather this than death. Death sounded soothing, and he knew there were men who'd wished for it, but all he could think about was life - bright and real and loud. He'd held onto it with everything he had, and lost most of that in the process. Still, he was glad he hadn't come back without a leg, or a hand, or something like that - he was whole and maybe not completely well, but there was still hope.

Of course, when Summer mentioned marriage proposals he laughed quietly, too, smiling. "Oh, I'll bet you got ten a day. I might have been guilty of it, myself, if I'd been in your care." He didn't mean it lightly, that marrying her wasn't a big deal, but rather that she was so kind, so beautiful, how could any man not see her as a ray of hope he wanted to illuminate the rest of his life? "I hope it wasn't too bothersome to you," he added, watching her work - and perking up at the idea of tea, following her gaze to the windowsill and seeing the bottle. "Actually... that sounds really nice. Would you like some?" He moved to the cabinets, starting to search for glasses, pulling down two before he'd really heard her answer (because he hoped she'd say yes). And he finally decided to at least stop offering to do everything else, she sounded like she really did enjoy having something to do, so he resigned himself to simply getting the ice and the tea and moving to stack the letters neatly on the table where they couldn't get spilled on or ruined by their meal. "It's true, I've had to get about ten things down from cabinets since the other day, and I've carried about fifty boxes of junk out of my room to make space. I don't mind having things to do either, really... idle hands are supposed to be bad, right? I remember something about that, I think." Some kind of saying? Maybe. "Either way, it is nice to feel useful."

"I thought it was sweet," she said with a faint smile, cheeks flushing. "Some of them I felt bad turning them down, they seemed so lonely." And some were handsome and kind, promised her the world. But she already had that with Leckie. And even now, she doesn't regret turning them down. "I think I was just the first girl they saw that actually talked to them. The nurses over there had to be cold for their own sake. But here, I was allowed to take care of them so they appreciated it." And one or two of them had fallen in love with her for it.

"Sure, I'd like that." She said as she moved to pour the milk into the potatoes then added a good amount of butter before she started to mash them with a fork. Of course, she laughed when he spoke of all the things he had to do. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop. And it sounds like they were really keeping you busy. But I guess I'd need help reaching things myself and I'd use you if you were around." She kept on mashing before glancing at the oven. "Um, if you could, take the roast out? Don't forget to use the rags so you don't burn your hands or anything."

He smiled, thinking she was even prettied when she blushed, though then he caught the tail end of what she was saying (okay, he'd been staring, that was rude) and nodded. "Well, that's probably right. What I do remember is not a lot of women, and those nurses were pretty distant. I didn't blame 'em, of course, but yeah, coming home and seeing a warm smile on a pretty girl like you? I'll bet a few of them fell head over heels."

He was glad to hear she wanted some tea, pouring them both a glass before ducking his head and nodding a little. "I guess so... " He was about to joke that maybe it was why any mother had a son, but - suddenly that seemed in poor taste. So instead, he went with, "I'm just a human giraffe, maybe I should market myself to the hospital that way, you think?" Of course, when she said he could pull out the roast, he nodded, searching out the towels to wrap around his hands and pulling open the oven door, nearly starting to drool simply at the aroma that wafted out before he could even reach in. "Oh... this smells so good." He moved to set the hot pan on the stovetop and close the oven, standing over it and trying not to let his excitement be too obvious. His mother had cooked him a good meal the first night he was back, and he'd acted the same way. Fresh meat just smelled so good - and it brought back memories, somehow, though they were still dim and faint. Memories of family dinners, of nights out... nothing concrete, nothing clear, but he realized after a minute that he'd been staring with his eyes unfocused and he covered it by asking, "Where do you keep the plates?" He could get those down, too - and pull out some silverware if she told him where to go. It was probably rude to tear her kitchen apart looking for them, after all.

Edited 2012-05-05 22:10 (UTC)

She only blushed more at his words, at how he said her smile was warm and she was pretty. And at this point, she was distracted from her mashing as she tried to not let those compliments go to heart too much. But they did and those potatoes were mashed in no time. "Yeah, maybe a few."

"Well, you're taller than me that's for sure," she laughed some, because everyone was taller than her and her petite frame. "I think you just being willing to help would be a good marketing tool. Plus telling them you know me." She bragged jokingly, moving to put the potatoes into a serving bowl, smiling as she did so. "Oh, they're over there." She pointed with the spoon before looking towards him with a bit of a smile. "And the silverware is in the drawer beneath that." She didn't mind him setting up the table if he wanted. She was going to cut the roast for them both and she'd serve it, that way they'd both have worked on putting this dinner together.

He couldn't help but smile - and he was definitely pleased to see her doing the same, not wanting to embarrass her of course but she deserved a compliment or two, at the least. And she might be small, but she was pretty and her frame fit her, even if she might need some help getting a few things down - which was part of why he'd offered to go after the plates in the first place. It wouldn't do to have her reaching for things he could easily get down and make her life that much easier.

He liked the way she laughed and bragged when she said all he had to do was tell them he knew her, down at the hospital, and he'd surely get a job. "I'll be sure to drop your name at least a hundred times, then," he grinned as he followed her indication and found both plates and silverware, moving to set them out on the table along with the drinks while she got to work on the roast. When he was done, he moved to get the serving bowl with the mashed potatoes and bring it over to the table, figuring she could bring the roast and they'd be ready to go. "Thank you again for dinner," he said earnestly, waiting to sit down until she'd come over and done it first. "I hope it helps you feel better, too."

"Good, name dropping can be very helpful," she remarked as she started cutting the roast into slices. Once he had the food set out on the table, she moved to bring the roast over since he already got the mashed potatoes there. She served out a slice for herself before glancing at him-- "Sit. And tell me how many slices you want. We should finish it off so you can have as much as you want." And he could always have second helpings if he wanted. She went ahead and started putting at least two slices on there and once he told her to stop, she'd move to serve out the mashed potatoes.

Once that was done, she'll move to sit down across from him with a smile. "It's the first time I've ever gotten to make you dinner. Or anything for that matter. Besides a letter." And for some reason, that felt really special to her.

"I'll bet it can," he agreed, watching eagerly as she started to cut that roast, breathing deep to get as much of the aroma into his nose as he could. She insisted that he sit, so after a second or two more he did - he supposed he was a guest, after all, and he'd better let her be a hostess. "Two or three is fine for now," he said - oh, yes, he'd definitely want seconds, but too much more than that to start and he'd just seem rude. The food wasn't going anywhere, and neither was either of them.

She got everything served out quickly and moved to sit across from him; he still waited for her to get started, though she said - for his benefit, he was sure - that it was the first time she'd ever made him dinner. "Well... I hope it's not the last," he said honestly, watching her from across the table. "Not only does it look like the best meal I've seen in a long time, but the company just can't be beat. Go ahead, you make sure to eat plenty, too."

She moved to sit after everything was served up and ready to go. She looked proudly over the meal, feeling accomplished and well, feeling good having finally had the chance to eat dinner with him after years. It wasn't the way she pictured it, no but it was more than enough to make her happy. And when he said he hoped it wasn't the last, she flushed some because it gave her hope and it flattered her, like his words after. "Thank you, Leckie."

She pulled her napkin into her lap before moving to take a bite, knowing that he was waiting for her to start because he was not without manners. "Dig in." She puts the forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth and has to smile because they taste perfect.

She should certainly look proudly over her work, because he was sure it was going to be amazing. Though once again he had to concede that she looked even better with that modest flush on her cheeks. He made himself quite happy watching that as he patiently waited his turn, but as soon as Summer had started in on her food and told him to do the same - well, he didn't need to be told twice. He started with the meat, picking up the knife and cutting it even though he wanted to just shove the whole piece into his mouth, it smelled so good. And as the first bite-sized piece touched his tongue, he hummed happily, eyes falling shut for a moment as he savored it. His mother had made stew, but he hadn't had pot roast in... far too long. "Oh, it tastes even better than it smells," he said, eyes opening so he could see to cut the next bite and keep going. Of course, about five bites in he realized he was inhaling it and tried to slow down, chewing and swallowing before he asked, "Have you always been so good at cooking?" It seemed a nice, safe thing to ask, although he knew that he should already know the answer; still, he tried to smile, because he really was curious. He didn't know about her hobbies, what she liked to do or what she was good at. Not anymore - not yet.

She watched his reaction from across the table and felt a pleasant warmth settle in her stomach when he seemed to like it. Her smile widened at the sight of it, at the sight of him almost inhaled it before realizing he was doing so. "I'm glad you like it." But of course, she laughed at his question, shaking her head. "I used to be awful. Actually, I was bad before you left and learned." She wanted to be good enough by the time he got back.

"I'm still teaching myself things."

He glanced up sheepishly after he realized he wasn't being very polite, but she seemed amused, nothing worse, so he relaxed a bit - but still made an effort to eat a little slower. "I do - I really like it," he assured her, tilting his head curiously when she laughed in response to his question, though the why became clear a moment later. "Ah - well, I suppose a couple of years and a person can master anything, right? Because I'd say you have definitely mastered this. What's your favorite thing to cook, now?" Because he definitely planned to see if she'd make it for him, too, just to see that smile on her face again - though he bet it would be excellent, to boot.

She didn't think it un-polite. In fact, it was a compliment that he was eating her food so quickly, it meant his words are true, that he loves the food she made. "Yeah, it was tricky. I burned some dishes and burned my hands a few times." But at his question, she was quiet for a moment. "I like making mashing potatoes. But I also like making spaghetti. I just learned it."

He nodded, trying not to smile at the idea of dishes coming out of the oven a little overdone - and of course burned hands weren't funny, but he imagined they did come with the territory. "Well, I can definitely vouch for your mashed potatoes. And I've never had real spaghetti... at least, I don't think so," he said, realizing as he glanced down at his plate, "I guess it's really hard to say what I have and haven't done... but I certainly don't remember having spaghetti, so I'd love to try some of yours, sometime." It was hard, living this life that was only half there, only memories other people had of him and memories he'd made that only went back a few years and were clearly full of holes. "I know I'll remember it this time," he tried to say enthusiastically, smiling up at her again. The doctors had said that even if his old memories never came back, he could still make new ones. He shouldn't forget those - and that was a relief, because to live a life that you were never sure you remembered at all... that sounded like torture.

"I don't know if you have either but I can always fix that." Somehow, it got easier to say things like that. He didn't have his memories and she needed to accept that, she needed to help him make new ones if his old weren't going to return. Though she wouldn't lose that hope either no matter how hard it got. "I'll have to make you some time." She offered him a smile before taking a few bites of food, swallowing only to ask-- "Do you have any other things to ask? I don't mind answering while you eat."

"It sounds like a plan to me," he agreed - he didn't care if he'd had it before or not; in the end, he wanted to try Summer's spaghetti, if only to make her smile. Though if this pot roast was any indication, it was going to be excellent spaghetti. "You just let me know when it's convenient, and I'll bring something over to go with it - wine, maybe?" He certainly didn't want to show up empty-handed - he'd probably bring her some flowers, too. He probably should have done that, tonight, but this had been sort of an impromptu visit.

He considered her question, but really the thing that was first and foremost on his mind, despite the fact that he already planned to look into employment in the hospital, was, "What did I do at the Record? Do you know? Mom didn't tell me, and I admit I wasn't really in the mood to ask her. I probably cleared out a little faster than I meant to, this morning," he said sheepishly.

"No, no. You save your money. Just you being here is a good enough gift for the hostess," she said a little boldly but honestly. She didn't want him to spend any money on her when he didn't have a job, he should save it for himself. "Besides I'll have wine that I'll cook with and we can drink that. I can always put you to work if you feel like you owe me or something, which you shouldn't."

"You reported sports," she answered with a smile. "I have a few of your articles saved, if you'd like to see them after dinner." They were mostly boring to her but at the same time, they were his so she cherished them. "Mostly local stuff but you were really good. I mean, you made me care about sports, if that--" She was going to say 'if that tells you anything' but she realized he didn't know her well enough to know that it was a feat. "Well, it's a daunting challenge."

He looked a little unsure at that - not that he didn't believe her, but still... "Are you sure?" Well, he could still bring her flowers, those weren't expensive, and besides - he had a lot of backpay in his pocket, but she was right in thinking that was, at least for the moment, unemployed. "You'll let me know if you change your mind... but in the meantime, I have no problem being put to work." Not by her, not by a long shot.

"Oh - really?" Honestly, he didn't know what to expect when he'd asked the question, but it was definitely an... interesting answer. He did nod, though, when she mentioned she had a few articles saved. "Yeah? I think I'd like that... just to see if you're biased or not," he added, though he couldn't help but smile, pleased, when she got across the fact that he'd been able to make a subject like that interesting to her. "Although I'm really not sure I could just march back down there and ask for my job back. Honestly, I'm not sure they'd hire me back even if I could remember... they've probably found someone new by now. I think I might be better doing something more along the lines of manual labor for a bit." Honestly, he didn't know whether he'd be able to pick a pen up and just write after everything... though now he was a little curious to try. Maybe he'd start a journal. Maybe he'd pretend they were letters to Summer.

"Of course. I think it'll be fair trade. I make you dinner in exchange for your company and maybe you helping with the dishes afterward," she teased softly, though she meant it. He could help with the dishes and that'd be more than enough of a gift than she could ask for.

"Yeah, you played basketball in high school. I'm sure that's what got you interested." She was happy to tell him that, if it would please him, though she laughed. "Not completely biased. I know good reading when I see it. And no, the new guy is no good. I sent you a few of the articles since you asked. You said he was just awful. And I have to agree. Boring."

"I think that sounds reasonable," he temporized, nodding - he didn't mind doing the dishes if she cooked for him, after all, and he'd be happy to do it so she wouldn't have to, not after she would have worked hard on something for them to eat. "And much safer than having me try to cook, I can promise you that."

"Hm... could be," he mused, when she said he'd played sports himself; it made sense, after all, though he had to laugh when she said he'd deemed the new writer no good. "Oh - well then maybe I'd better go back there and tell them I can save their paper... just as soon as I remember how awfully good I was." He gave her a conspiratorial smile, though it was still a little pleased that she thought his writing was good. "Though maybe I ought to practice a little, first. I think I'd be rusty even if I felt like I knew what I was doing. Maybe I need a good editor to point me in the right direction..." And maybe she'd be willing to do it, though of course he wouldn't want to force her to do something that might be difficult, emotionally.

"Oh, I believe it. After years of eating beans out of cans, I don't think cooking is your speciality. And that is okay with me." She felt the urge to press a kiss to his lips after she said it but she doesn't, she bites her bottom lip instead as he continued to speak.

"I hope that comes back first. Writing is... well, it's what you're best at. And it felt like the thing that you most loved." She moved to reach for the stack of letters, putting her fork down as she flipped through them and found one, a poem of his he wrote. "This one made me cry for weeks, it was so beautiful. So if you want me as your editor, I'd be happy to be that person."

He couldn't help but laugh, liking the way she put that - and it was, after all, quite accurate. "The lady has a point," he said - and the funny thing was, if she'd kissed him right then, he would have kissed her right back. He felt a little lost, admittedly, as to where he was supposed to stand with her, exactly. She felt very strongly about him, that much was clear, she'd said it. And he had felt the same way about her, he didn't doubt it for a second. Not as she pulled out one of his letters, telling him that something he'd written had had that kind of effect on her...

He paused in his eating, picking up the piece of paper. It was in his handwriting, that much certainly hadn't changed, somehow, and as his eyes scanned over the lines... it was like reading something he remembered writing in a dream - or, rather, something he knew he'd written but couldn't remember the act of actually writing it. He glanced up at her, smiling a little, softly, as she agreed to be his editor. "I'd really like that, Summer. It would mean a lot." He set the letter aside, not knowing if now was the time to bring up what he'd just been thinking, but... he wasn't sure there'd ever be a time that was better than some other. "Can I... ask you something bluntly? I mean, I just... want to know how you want to do this. Us. Because we're something, whether I can remember it or not, and I don't... think I want to lose that. I don't want to lose you, even if I can't remember having you. Does that make any sense?"

She watched him read the poem, wondering if something that powerful, that special would bring back some sort of memory but it didn't seem to have the same effect as the other letter had. And she felt a brief moment of disappointment but she didn't really get a chance to feel it before he spoke again, asking if he could ask her something bluntly. She nodded, watching his face as he pressed on.

Her expression faded from a bit of a smile into something more serious as he spoke seriously, asking what they were going to do, what she wanted to do about them. About their relationship. She hesitated for a moment, blinking at his words as she tried to consider what she wanted. "I..." What could she say without making him feel obligated or guilty? What could she say that wouldn't make him feel like he had to stay and try. He said he didn't want to lose her and she certainly didn't want to lose him. "I'm still in love with you," she said it helplessly, her voice soft, strained with emotion as she looked down at the letters in her hands. "I... I don't want you to feel like you have to try but... just thinking about losing you after I just got you back... I thought you were dead and my heart was broken." Her eyes lifted to meet with his, brimming with a few tears she refused to let fall. "But it'd be worse if I lost you now even if you don't remember me. I know that's a lot to take but..." She wanted to tell the truth.

He wished something as simple as words - something as powerful as words - could bring everything back to him, but that didn't seem to be the case. And he had something much more important to deal with, watching her earnestly as she tried to answer his question. He wanted the truth, no matter how hard it might be to hear, but it wasn't as hard as she thought. "Honestly... it doesn't feel like an obligation, Summer. It feels like... like I've won something." He laughed a little, trying to figure out how to tell her. "I'm pretty sure every Marine wanted to come home to a girl like you saying she loved him. And here I have, and I can't even remember how it all began. But that doesn't mean I don't want to try. And it doesn't mean I feel like I have to. I want to. I've only known you for a few days that I can remember, and already I like you. I don't think that part of me has changed." He moved to set the letters down and reached out to take her hand, gently, if she'd let him. "And yes, a part of me doesn't want to hurt you, a part of me would stay just to make you smile. But I want to make you smile. I want to find out how to do it all the time. That's got to mean something, right? I think it's going to be harder for you than for me, but... can we try?"

God. Even without his memories, without being the Leckie she knew, he's still Robert Leckie. He knew exactly the right things to say, always. And right now, he was saying them, giving her hope. Because even if his memories don't come back, he wanted to try. He wanted to fight for them. And the fact that he already liked her, even after only a few days, it said something to her. Her eyes met with his, her breath caught in her throat for a moment so all she could was nod. "Y-Yes. That's all I want. I want to try." Her heart felt like it was about to pop out of her chest hearing all those things, hearing that he wanted to make her smile all the time, that it wasn't that he thought he had to, but that he wanted to. Her hand curled in his and she brought his up to her lips to kiss because until she was sure he was okay with it, she wouldn't kiss him on the lips. "I promise I won't rush you."

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