alicia_h: (60s girl)
[personal profile] alicia_h
Writerverse Phase 12 Challenge 1 (Weekly Quick Fic 1)
Title: Au revoir
Prompt: “One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” (Jack Kerouac)
Bonus? no
Word Count: 564
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Fanfic - Inside Llewyn Davis (Coen brothers)
Pairings (if any): Hints of Llewyn Davis/Mike Timlin
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): Mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts
Summary: Inside Llewyn Davis's head in the minutes after the film ends

Llewyn's mouth is full of blood. He can hear the singing inside the club as he stands and the twin bruises that were once his kidneys protest. In the quiet moment where he is nothing but blood and pain, he hopes the kid gets all the luck he's been living without.

Luck is the only thing that will make a difference. The one think that can mark out the separate paths of their lives. You have the talent. Now you need a lot of luck. And friends with couches. What else is left for this new kid to inherit but a world of novelty hits with no royalties and the crushing superiority of sweet sounding trios of sell outs like Troy, Jim and Jean?

He can't just leave. He needs his half of the basket and to beg a couch for the night. Part of him wants to curl up and sleep right here in the alley. Another part tells him to walk until his aching feet take him to the bridge.

Mike chose the George Washington Bridge because he loved the view. He wasn't trying to make a point or become part of the cliche. He wanted out. He wanted to get away from the life surrounded by phonies and sell outs, all those other fucking cliches.

He wanted to get away from me, Llewyn thinks.

It's not the first time this thought has come to him, but it is the first time he's acknowledged it. And, now he has, maybe he can start denying it. No, not denying, because denying is the wrong word. He can break down the thought and sort through it piece by piece. He can evaluate his own perceived truth.

Eventually he might be able to believe that Mike didn't kill himself to get away from him. Mike did what he did and maybe it was to get away from one thing or everything in his life. Llewyn was part of that life and now he isn't. He's the leftover that's been left to rot.

He thinks, even if Mike didn't want to get away from me, I want to get away from me. That's the scary part.

Llewyn washes his face in the bathroom. He thinks about sitting at the back or side of the room, out of view, but he wants to see the kid play as much as he wants to hear him. If he only wanted to hear, he'd be just as happy back out in the alley. But Mike would have sat up front, so that's what Llewyn does.

Mike would have loved this kid, he thinks.

And, he realises, this is the first time he's thought of Mike without wanting to throw up. It must mean something that his first good thought of the year is about Mike. After months of molten grief churning inside him, something is starting to solidify. If that all over sick feeling fades, maybe he can learn to carry around whatever is left.

One day he will find a way to let the memory of Mike live in his mind without the confusion of grief. He will find the right words, and they will be simple.


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