I know it's not New Year, but any time's a good time for Tate, yo ne?
Disclaimer: Don't own. Sucks, eh?
Songwise, goes
nicely with 'So Nice, So Smart' by Kimya Dawson.
Or 'Sea of Love' by Cat Power.
It's New Year's Eve. Tony is sitting alone at his dining table.
He can hear the people down the street hollering, cheering, laughing…
He thinks about how he would have spent tonight with Kate, like he did every year.
They would have sat, and laughed and chatted about how crappy their lives were.
They don't. He does.
He sits there with his glass of wine and takeaway Chinese food.
Double order, in case, just in case Kate showed up.
She won't.
At least, he doesn't expect her to.
She's out. Probably with Dwayne or Simon or Harrison or some other guy that can't possibly appreciate her as much as he does.
She's just as bad as him, he thinks, but then again, she feels she's running out of time.
He's afraid of commitment.
She's trying to find it.
So, he's sitting there.
Alone.
In the darkness.
Feeling sorry for himself.
He decides to sort through some mail to pass the last hour or so before the turn of the year.
Bill.
Bill.
Aunty Tess.
Bill.
He pauses as his eyes fall upon a letter he's been waiting for.
Well, at least he had, when he'd remembered about it six months ago.
It was one he'd written to himself last year after Kate had gone home.
He'd decided he'd had enough of slacking off and he was going to actually try.
Give up his "playboy lifestyle" as Kate had called it.
He was going to make an effort.
See if anyone noticed.
They didn't…
He feels it would be stupid to open the letter, seeing as he hasn't really accomplished anything he's set out to do, except maybe catch a few bad guys and buy a new TV set.
He hasn't done anything big.
He hasn't made any changes to really better his life.
The letter might motivate him.
It's worth a try.
He opens it.
Dear Tony,
It's yourself.
How are you going?
This feels so weird writing to another part of myself.
I hope you're doing better than me.
I almost lost Kate today. The suspect nearly shot her.
You'll probably hate remembering that. It's such a painful thought, yeah?
Sorry for reminding you.
I know I've screwed you up pretty bad, and for that I'm eternally sorry.
If you haven't shaped up by the time you get this, I want you to.
You've had a year.
So…
I'm giving you direct orders here.
I want you to go and start boxing lessons again.
I'm also ordering you to stop eating takeout.
You're gonna be broke real soon.
I want you to catch some bad guys and buy yourself a new TV, because, seriously, you can't watch Alien on a brick.
Has anything happened between you and Kate yet?
Or have you pushed her away like every other girl you've dated?
Dear God, Tony, I know you have.
You always do.
If she's sitting next to you, like she was one year ago from where you are now, I want you to tell her how you feel.
Or just do something.
You're such an ass.
Get on with it.
Your Self.
Tony folds up the letter and sighs.
He didn't know how wrong he was going to be.
No matter how much he wants to, he can't do anything about Kate.
He has no idea where she was and no idea who she was with.
(But he can be pretty sure it is with some guy.)
He walks to the bin, tightly scrunching the letter in his palm.
It makes a loud "tish" as it hits the metal bottom of his wastepaper basket.
The "tish" almost blocks out the sound of the sharp knock on his door.
He answers it hesitantly.
For a brief moment, he thinks it will be Kate.
It won't be.
He's convinced of that.
It is.
'Hi,' she says, smiling feebly.
'Hey,' he replies, standing aside so she can come in.
'Sorry I came so late.' She says, fiddling with a loose thread on her vest.
''S ok,' he says taking her coat.
'I wasn't going to,' she says, sitting down at the table.
'I figured you mightn't,' he says sitting down opposite her.
He presumes they'll continue this small talk with not real start or end or point so he offers her a glass of wine.
She declines and asks if he has any beer.
He does; four bottles at the back of the fridge.
He takes off the tops.
They clang against the table, filling the gap made by their awkward silence.
Kate smiles and almost laughs.
'Look what we've resorted to,' she says, waving her arms about, gesturing to the rather bleak and lonely sight of the two of them, 'you won't even make a joke, or act like an ass. We're both not talking.'
He looks at her piteously.
It is so true, and that's what causes the most pain.
He opens his mouth to speak.
She can only guess what's coming.
'Tony,' she says shaking her head.
'No, Kate,' he says firmly.
She looks at him with a pained.
'I know you really just think I'm some ass from work, yeah?' He asks, not wanting a reply. He knows she'll deny it, however untruthfully.
'Tony, I don't-'
'You do.' He says. 'And I want to prove you wrong.'
'You don't need to.' She says. 'I know you're really a great guy. Genuine, no matter how much crap you say.'
'You don't believe that. I know it.' He says bitterly.
'Like you knew I wasn't going to turn up tonight?' She asks.
He can't think of a reply.
'Look Tony.' Kate begins, shuffling a little in her seat. 'I came tonight because I don't think poorly of you. We have a great time working together.'
He laughs a little inside.
Working together.
That's not what he cares about.
'I promised myself I do something about this.' He says. She knows what he's talking about. It's hard not to.
'You know I like you.' He says, like it's her fault. Not that it makes it any easier.
'I do now.' She says biting her lip.
'That's all I needed to tell you.' He says.
He stands up and walks out onto the balcony, leaning over the ledge as the fresh, night breeze whistles through his hair.
There. There, he's done it.
She knows.
He's done that drastic thing he'd wanted to do for a year.
There is a pause and they can hear people out in the streets.
10, 9, 8…
It's so terribly convenient, she almost feels guilty.
7, 6, 5…
She stands up and walks to stand next to him.
Her arm slides around his waist and she draws him close.
4, 2, 3…
Tony smiles.
1…
Dear Tony,
You are such an ass.
But a great one.
If you're reading this, I assume it has been one year since you finally followed my instructions.
I am also assuming you and Kate are still together.
If not, go and guilt trip in the corner you ass. She was the one.
I hope you're boxing again and staying off the take out.
Maybe Kate's cooking for you?
I wouldn't know.
I don't know her well enough yet.
I wish you guys really well.
You've found it.
Exactly what you wanted.
So don't fuck it up!
Stick with it, Tony.
Your Self.
AN: Just a little tid-bit to keep you going. But I don't know if I like it all that much.
Much hap-hap-happiness for you all (:
Smiles,
Darcie