Longing For The Moment- AU *Updated* 11/03/08

[mangled_monkey]

Ok, so I've been a bit of a slacker recently. RL's been a bitch, so I decided to make up for it by adding a new chapter to MPSHS, but I've found it's been impossible to write. So I wrote this instead. I'll keep up with it, and SHS when I get the time. This one's priority right now because I have more ideas for it.

Anyway...

Title: Longing For The Moment
Author: M&M (cause it makes me sound tasty!), Monkey, Sara, MMy, whatever you want to call me.
Feedback: IS MY LIFEBLOOD!... Erm... please?
Distribution: Whoever wants it, ask me first though.
Rating: PG for now, it'll get higher.
Summary: Ten years ago, a mistake was made. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and confusion leave two girls longing for the moment when two will stand against the world.
Disclaimer: Part of the summary, and the title, are taken from the song "First Light" by Bella Morte. I don't own it. I don't own , even though I would LOVE to. This is for fun, not profit, yada yada yada. You get the point.
Without further ado, I bring you...



Longing For The Moment- Prologue
*******
I had known her my entire life. You see, she’s a year older than me. Exactly a year older. The day I was brought home from the hospital, three days after our birthday, our friendship began. Not literally of course, but that’s a nice way to think about it; Friends forever, and all that. The first gift I had ever been given that ever meant, or still means, much of anything to me was a plastic purple best friends bracelet she bought with her allowance (and with some help from her mother; her allowance was only a quarter at that time) before we were even old enough to read. That was back in the old days when it was still common for first graders to not be able to read. Anyway, I knew that mine was half a heart and her’s was half a heart and that they fit together, interlocking, just like the two of us always had. Just like we had, that is, until that day ten years ago.

I was 16 at the time, and we were seniors in high school, since I had skipped 8th grade and joined her in high school her freshman year. Time was counting down quickly to graduation, and there were only four days of school left. Four days of real school, that is. There was still the rehersal and senior banquet to attend, but prom had passed two weeks previously. We had decided together that it would be best to forgo prom and have a movie night instead. We spent the entire night in my bedroom watching movies such as Casablanca, The Third Man and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and munching on popcorn. We were both fans of the classics. We ended the night with Gone With The Wind, which began rolling the credits as the sun peeked through my window and found us asleep, cuddled together, on my bed. We slept until around one in the afternoon, courtesy of my ever-absent parents, until her father called her cell phone, waking us both up, to insist she be home immediately. That was one of the best nights of my life, and even now, ten years later, I look back on it and smile.

Less than a month later, I had lost her.

We walked to school together, as usual and we had our first two classes together. Those classes had gone wonderfully, and we split up with a hug to go to our separate third period classes. It was some time during fourth period that it happened. Gregory Thompson had found her notebook, which she had forgotten, underneith his desk. She had always been one to write down her thoughts, and it just so happened that Greg had found her private journal. Being the jerk that he was, he opened it and began reading. This wouldn’t have been such a problem if she hadn’t just realized that she was a lesbian. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the confession located in the third most recent entry that she was completely in love with me. Looking back, I overreacted. I know I did, I think subconsciously I even knew it at the time. But I didn’t feel that I had a choice then.

I walked towards her with my brown bagged lunch firmly in hand. I thought about many things in those 20 seconds that it took me to reach the table, more things than should have been possible for anyone else, but exactly the amount that had always been possible for me. I think more than most, and that tends to lead to long rambling stories and explanations that some of my peers don’t have the patience to listen to. I knew that if I were to stay friends with Tara, even with our history, things would be awkward at best. At that point in my life, I wasn’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship and I had never considered dating a boy, let alone my best friend and fellow girl. I also thought about how ugly the floor tiles were, since they were all I could focus on during my walk. And of course, I thought about the fact that I really hated Gregory Thompson. But, among all the chatter inside my head, one thought pervaded the rest and got through to scream loud and clear inside my brain. ‘This is going to kill her!’

I sat across from her at the table slowly. She looked up at me and smiled. “Hey Willow!” She greeted me so happily that I almost started crying. Apparently it hadn’t reached her yet what had happened.

I smiled slightly, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “Hey Tara.”

From my tone, or false smile, or maybe just because she knew me so well, Tara automatically knew something was wrong. And I couldn’t keep eye contact with her, so she knew it was serious. “Willow… w-what happened?”

The stutter made me cringe. I hadn’t heard her stutter in seven months and four days. I had been keeping track since I noticed she wasn’t doing it as often. The nervous stutter she had had always been endearing to me, and I even remember the first time I ever heard it- The first day of my second grade year, when her mother was in the hospital and she was dropped off at school by her father. Since then, it had been ever present whenever Tara was going through a rough spot in her life. I sadly realized that this was to be one of those hard times for her.

I gulped a few times before I said anything. I had expected to begin uttering a long and probably off topic babble that would have made her less nervous, or at least made the beautiful smile that she had appear on her face, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was “Everyone knows, Tara.”

After what seemed like an eternity of hiding behind her hair, Tara looked up at me. “W-wh-wh-wha-”

I winced when Tara couldn’t get the word out and looked down at the table. “I think it’s best if we don’t talk for awhile… just so I can have some time to think things over. It really hurts me that you didn’t tell me, Tara.”

Now, I know it’s been ten years, and my memory has had plenty of time to embellish, twist and exaggerate some of the events of that time, but I know with all certainty that the look Tara had on her face when she realized what had happened would never leave my mind, and has been forever imprinted on my memory. It was a look of pure horror, shock, and- worst of all- heartbreak.

I knew at that point, really knew for sure, that things between us would never be the same, no matter how much I wanted them to be.


*******
AN: I'm working on the next part now. The force is strong in this one.

[writerfreak]

I really like the start on this, you have always been a wonderful author. Its good. Keep it and SHS up, they are both wonderful.

writerfreak

[Tonto]

I absolutely love this fic! I hope you plan on updating soonish! I really enjoy your writing style....I enjoyed it so much that I was even able to forget for a few minutes that the ignorant people in my state re-elected Arnold. Argh! That's quite an accomplishment if your story was able to give my mind a break.

I loved how you set the stage for the story......I'm sure you'll get into what happened to both of them during those infamous 10 years in the later chapters. I feel so bad for Tara! Are we to assume that they didn't speak and were not in contact for those 10 years? Wow, I cannot imagine our favorite couple separated for 10 years! If that question will spoil anything, please don't answer it......I love surprises.

Update soon please..............pretty please!

[Belli Bear]

wooooooooow.. really interesting take on the best friend girl friend type scenario! i was seriously heartbroken when SHS was discontinued i really hope you get into this one! im loving it already YAAAAAAAAAY MUSE!!! poor tara *sighs* i can totally see all this happening... breeeeeeeeeeaks my heart! update soonish yes? i hope so hehe

-bell

[StaceAngel]

Wow this a great start! I love this already and awwh! the lil purple necklace thats really cute
But gosh Tara i know how she feels *sighs* i hope it wasnt too painful for her ...

*puts up a lil tent* Okay! So! I'll be waiting for summore




Stace xXx

[willohand]

ohnygod...poor Tara. And willow is so confused. This isnt going to be good for some time, am I right? Yeah you are going to take us to a place where there is sure to be lots of problems and such forth.

[imjustme]

Wow,
This is definitely going to be an intense ride. sometimes things like that seem so strange an dsudden. they were best friends and they hugged and always were together, but once the thought of them being "together" was put into Willow's head she freaked. My heart broke with Tara's at reading what happened. I hope things don't magically become okay as much as i want things to be i'm looking forward to the ride of this fic.

Andi

[mangled_monkey]

writerfreak- Will do! Thank you very much for reading and commenting.

Tonto- I'm very sorry to hear about the idiots out voting the smart people. I'm glad I could give you a bit of a break though, that's awesome! The whole ten years will be covered, some of them more thoroughly than others. And I won't answer that question.

Belli Bear- SHS hasn't been discontinued, I'm still writing it, but the updates will be far more sporadic for awhile. I hope I don't break your heart too much, this shall be a very sad piece of writing for awhile. *hugs* Thank you for reading!!!

StaceAngel- Oh, Tara's completely screwed for awhile. This story will not be kind to her, just as life wasn't kind to her on the show. Everything I put in this story, based on how I analyze her character, is how I see her growing up. And YAY!!! I have my first camper!!! On the first post no less!!!

willohand- Well, look at it this way... If you're a sadist, this story will be really happy for you!

imjustme- Oh, there will be quite a ride. One thing I can promise anyone who reads any of my stories is that things will never become ok quickly at all. It takes time. *bites tongue to keep from typing out the Entropy speech* I am a firm believer in ANGST ANGST and more ANGST!!! Hehe. Thanks for reading!!!



Title: Longing For The Moment
Author: M&M (cause it makes me sound tasty!), Monkey, Sara, MMy, whatever you want to call me.
Feedback: IS MY LIFEBLOOD!... Erm... please?
Distribution: Whoever wants it, ask me first though.
Rating: PG for now, it'll get higher.
Summary: Ten years ago, a mistake was made. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and confusion leave two girls longing for the moment when two will stand against the world.
Disclaimer: Part of the summary, and the title, are taken from the song "First Light" by Bella Morte. I don't own it. I don't own Willow and Tara smoochies, even though I would LOVE to. This is for fun, not profit, yada yada yada. You get the point.
Without further ado, I bring you...



Longing For The Moment- Chapter One
*******

Tara didn’t attend the last few days of school, or the graduation ceremony. I didn’t know it at the time, but she didn’t go because her mother was in extremely serious condition. It took nine years of sporadic hospitalizations, surgeries and countless medications for Winnie Maclay to get to the point she was in during Tara’s senior year. I later learned that her mother had had Lupus, and that the diagnosis came way too late, only three days prior to her death. I also didn’t find out until years later that her mother passed away on July 3rd of that year, and that Tara’s father and brother still set off fireworks the next day, celebrating the holiday as if nothing had changed. I hadn’t known any of it, and looking back, I wish I had. I wish I had known how much pain Tara was in, how most of her friends refused to talk to her after she unwillingly came out of the closet, including me, and how the rest of them abandoned her because they didn’t know what to say after her mother died.

All of this, I’m sure, Tara suffered in silence. She had always been far stronger than me, and the spirit behind everything I did. I may have been the brains behind many of our childhood games, but she was the heart and soul of it. Looking back, I should have known how integral she was to my life, but I for some reason thought I would be able to be just fine without her.

Actually, I don’t think I ever really believed that, even though I wanted to. I was 16 years old, I had just graduated high school, and I was unsure about everything. My future was uncertain, even though I had decided on a college and I knew what my major would be, I still wasn’t sure what job I wanted to perform in that field. My past seemed like it was slipping further and further away from me each day, as though I was detaching from it. I was losing myself because I had lost Tara; I just never recognized that fact for what it was: a truth that couldn’t be changed.

I had my first job that summer, working as a cashier at the local grocery store. It was part of a big chain, but, perhaps because Tara and I had spent so much time there as children, it seemed different from anywhere else. It was as if there could be many stores that looked exactly like it, smelled exactly like it, had exactly the same merchandise, but they would always be radically different from that one store located on the corner of Chestnut and Branch.

I never saw Tara in the store, or her father and brother, since the men-and I use that term loosely- of the Maclay family preferred to buy everything in bulk. At the time, it didn’t seem odd to me that Tara never came into the store, even though that’s where her mother preferred to shop. I just figured they always came while I wasn’t scheduled to work. We didn’t live in the smallest town ever, so news didn’t travel fast or at all, in some cases. The grapevine was never a source of information for me, since I didn’t have friends that followed the gossip.

I still feel extremely guilty that I didn’t know about all the turmoil in Tara’s life that occurred after that day.

I earned enough money that summer to pay for personal items throughout the school year, since I was attending classes and living in the dorms on a full scholarship. I knew that Tara was going to the same college, we had planned it that way from the beginning, never planning for the possibility that we wouldn’t be talking when it actually occurred. To make matters worse, we had signed up to share a dorm room.

After the first day, when we moved our things in and we didn’t speak to one another at all, I didn’t see her. She always came in after I had gone to sleep and left before I woke up. I’d only know she’d been there because something small had changed about her half of the room. I knew she was avoiding me, that much was obvious. I feel like it should have bothered me more at the time that my best friend-or former best friend, as the case may be- was avoiding me, but I was still confused, still questioning how I felt about her, about me, and about the future. I guess you could say I was in denial about what I felt for her, since when my parents were around I had learned from them that it was supposedly wrong. I rarely agreed with them, but I worried that they would never accept me.

I should’ve considered how Tara’s family felt towards her.

It was no secret that her father was abusive, I knew, and I had comforted her after many beatings from him for her doing things as silly as forgetting to fill up the salt shaker. Donny was worse, since he’d hit her at the drop of a hat, no matter what she had or hadn’t done. Thinking about how hard it must’ve been for her that summer still makes me cry. My only comfort comes in knowing that she was away for most of it, counseling at two different away camps for children, which I also didn’t find out about until awhile later. She had had familial connections that managed to get her a slot on very short notice, less than two weeks and she was at camp.

I have since seen pictures of that summer, of her work at the camp, of the children she helped, and I had never seen Tara, in the 16 years that I had known her at that time, look so empty. She was smiling in most of the pictures, but it was hollow. There was a look in her eye that I had only seen in person once; on the day I told her I needed time. It broke my heart to know that that look was partially because of me. I can’t think for even a moment that her mother’s death didn’t have more to do with it, but it was also my lack of being there for her that broke her so completely. She was a shell of the former Tara Maclay, a zombie version of the bright vibrant girl that I remembered so well from our childhood.

The rest of our first year of college went on pretty much the same way the first semester had. We had no classes together, but we still shared the room. She still avoided me like the plague, and I pretended I didn’t notice her complete absence from the room. That continued on until one night, nearly one year to the day since we had last spoken, when I stayed up late to study for finals.

She came home at what I’m guessing was her usual time, 11 pm, but I was always in bed before then. I heard the door open, and a moment of panic enveloped me, because I knew that I would have to see her. A million questions went running through my mind. Why now? Why tonight? Why did things have to be so awkward between us? I didn’t know the answer to any of the questions except the last one. That answer was clear as day to me.

Because of me.

Our current situation was completely my fault, and I knew then that I needed to at least try to make things better. I suppose that starts with baby steps.

I smiled at her. “Hi, Tara.”


*****
AN: No update tomorrow because it is my best friend's 18th birthday and I'm taking her out.

[candybabe86]

Oh wow.. this is great stuff.

Your writing makes me feel like I'm living in the story.. drawing me in completely and making my heart ache for the both of them.

Great work! I'm definately hooked now.

Can't wait to read more!

Candy xx

[PancakesinBellies]

I'm really enjoying this story. I hope they get everything worked out between them with relatively little angst (I hate when I get the urge to cry at work) and then lots of smoochies and gay-love. I'm looking forward to the next update!

[willohand]

Yeah I think Willow is just so totally confused but inside her heart it knows on a really deep level that she has feelings for this girl/young woman. The question becomes, what to do? Face them and come to terms with or keep denying. You cant tell your heart to not love the person its drawn to. Though we all try at times. It never really works now does it?
And dear god...poor strong tara. I say strong becasue with all that crap dealt her, willow`s behavior among it, she still goes on. Her mother passes and her family still celebrates as if nothing tragic has happened. Her mother died for goodness sake. And she is still rooming with the one person she thought would always be there for her and now isnt. Tara (and bless amber benson) has always been the strongest out of the scoobies for what she brings to any life she touches. Oh I am so not ready for this but okay Im with ya.

[mangled_monkey]

candybabe86- *bows with a flourish* Why thank you, mi'lady. ...And I have no clue where that came from, but expect knights in my next story. Tara would look totally hot in armor. And that making you feel like you're living in the story thing... it'll be quite a ride if I do it right. That's my favorite kind of story, where you feel like it's happening to you, so I'm glad it's working! The great thing about the heart ache is the resolution. Because it feels SO much better when things go right when you've already seen them go wrong. But... I'm gonna stop getting into that now and get with the rest of the responses to responses. Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!

highlandlass25- Aww... You're gonna make me feel guilty for my uber-angstyness. I hope you still read anyway, cause I can say that most chapters will have some lighthearted stuff mixed in with the heavy angst, since I always try to make jokes. That's just a Willowy thing to do, making jokes at inappropriate times. I hope I pull that off ok... There will be gay-love... in awhile... Sorry...

willohand- This story is in part a monument to Tara. I can only wish that I could be half as strong as she is. (I suppose some would say I am, but I still can't believe that.) Tara will go through more, Willow will go through more, and it will be upsetting. But I will say that I write happy as well as I write sad, and elation can only exist with extreme sorrow. They come in a pack together, so I can't write one without writing the other. Willow is in intense denial, and she's confused. But she's also an average college student still coming to terms with who she is, and learning. She'll come around.



Title: Longing For The Moment
Author: M&M (cause it makes me sound tasty!), Monkey, Sara, MMy, whatever you want to call me.
Feedback: IS MY LIFEBLOOD!... Erm... please?
Distribution: Whoever wants it, ask me first though.
Rating: PG for now, it'll get higher.
Summary: Ten years ago, a mistake was made. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and confusion leave two girls longing for the moment when two will stand against the world.
Disclaimer: Part of the summary, and the title, are taken from the song "First Light" by Bella Morte. I don't own it. I don't own Willow and Tara smoochies, even though I would LOVE to. This is for fun, not profit, yada yada yada. You get the point.
Without further ado, I bring you...


Longing for the Moment- Chapter Two
******


Now, I’m not sure what I was expecting her to say, how I was expecting her to react, but however it was, I was not prepared for the actual reaction.

Anger, I had been prepared for, or even a slight wave and silence for the rest of the night. But she actually acknowledged that I had said something, by looking at me for a second, before very calmly turning around and leaving the room. What got me most was that she didn’t even make eye contact with me. I thought I deserved at least a little bit of credit for the attempt, but that also goes to show how stupid, naïve and selfish I was back then.

I spent the rest of that night attempting to write her a note. Looking back, it reminds me of one of those montages in a movie where, to show the passage of time, you see a trashcan filling up with crumpled papers. By 6 AM the next morning, the trashcan to the side of my desk was full to overflowing, and I had the most pathetic note ever. After all this time, I still remember exactly what it said, especially because it consisted of five words.

I never claimed to be a poet, or a good writer, or even eloquent with my speech. I am none of those things, I ramble and I never get to the point, even when trying to write a letter. There were just so many things I had to say to her and not enough paper. I finally decided that it would be easier to go with simplicity and open up the lines of communication so we could talk about it later.

“Dear Tara, I’m Sorry. –Willow.”

Satisfied with the note I had written, even if I was only satisfied for want of something better, I decided, since I had pulled an all nighter, I should go and get some really strong coffee from the campus café. I put the meager note I had written onto Tara’s pillow, since I knew she would find it there, grabbed my tote bag, dropped a few pencils into it, turned off my desk lamp, and left the room.

Tara had apparently thought that coffee sounded good at the same time, because she was two people ahead of me in the café line. That would have been fine, we would have had plenty of opportunity to ignore each other, and I could’ve just waited until she got the note to see what she would say. Things didn’t want to work out that way, though, because a few minutes after I noticed she was in front of me, when I was just three people away from getting my caffeinated goodness, she got her coffee. She took a sip and savored the bitter flavor of unsugared and uncreamed coffee and the early morning warmth and wakefulness, then turned to walk away. Because the line was situated right next to the place where the newly coffeed students walked away from the counter, she would inevitably have to pass me. I held my breath and waited for this to occur, watching her out of the corner of my eye. But, instead of walking past me, a few feet away from me she stepped right into a puddle. She somehow managed to fall forward, rather than back, spilling her coffee all over me and the two people to either side of me, since she was on her way to the kiosk where you could add flavor to your coffee. Flavor and an all-important lid that was handy for avoiding spills like the one that had just occurred. One thing I marvel at even now is how the spill and her inevitable fall to the ground still occur in slow motion in my memory. The cup toppling as it left her grip, the coffee flying through the air unchecked by anything before it finally hit my body, and the look of shock and terror on Tara’s face. But I wasn’t thinking of all of those things at the time, they just became ingrained in my memory. More than anything, I was in pain.

Now, if you’ve never had a freshly made, and still very hot, cup of coffee poured all over you without any time for it to cool, you cannot truly appreciate how much it burns. It’s similar to what I imagine hot oil would feel like, or burning tar, or maybe just boiling water. I suppose if you’ve had hot oil, burning tar, or boiling water poured onto you, you can understand how it feels to have hot coffee on you. It doesn’t feel very good, in any case.

My first instinct, and the first instinct of the two other unlucky students, was anger. My anger dissipated far quicker than the other two, because it was an accident, and, more importantly, because it was Tara’s accident. The look of mortification on Tara’s face also helped me calm down, and I immediately left the line, dripping rapidly cooling coffee, and went over to the kiosk to retrieve large quantities of napkins. I began cleaning up the mess, which was fruitless because I was still dripping so every spot I wiped immediately got refilled with the coffee from my sleeve. At that moment, I cursed my choice of a long-sleeved t-shirt for the day, even though it was a bit chilly that morning.

I felt Tara kneel down beside me and take some of the napkins to clean other spots. Throughout this, she was repeating “I’m sorry” to everyone involved; it was to the point where anyone that so much as looked at her was apologized to. She looked so desperate and embarrassed that I just wanted to give her a hug, but I reminded myself that I didn’t have that right anymore, and that I would’ve covered her with coffee if I had.

We cleaned up the coffee, me in silence, her in a perpetual state of apology, and I stood up. I noticed that in the time spent cleaning up the mess and running back to the kiosk for more napkins and to the trashcan to dispose of the ones we had used, the line had completely dissipated, either having been served or cleared out because the students in the line were wary of another mishap.

I allowed myself to go with my first instinct and, still dripping coffee occasionally, I walked right up to the counter and ordered two cups of coffee. I did get quite a look from the guy behind the counter, I suppose he figured having coffee dumped all over me would wake me up enough so that I wouldn’t need to drink it, or maybe he assumed I had already absorbed some of it via osmosis. But since I couldn’t do that, scientific principals of the human body being an issue and all, I still required something to drink so the caffeine could be absorbed into my bloodstream, quicken my heart rate, cause more blood flow to my brain, and, by doing so, wake me up.

He gave me the coffee rather quickly, so I took both cups, hurried to the kiosk, put a lid on both of them just to be safe, and walked back over to Tara. I held one of the cups out to her, smiling slightly, albeit a little awkwardly. “Here… I uh… Got you a new one.”

She looked up at me, actually making eye contact this time, and smiled a little bit. More than I had seen her smile in one day over a year. “T-thank you.”

It was probably a good thing that I didn’t expect more than that, because I would have been sorely disappointed. After giving me a slight nod of appreciation, Tara took her cup of coffee, went over to the kiosk, added three sugars and a cream like always, and disappeared into the crowd of barely awake students.

She had appreciated the gesture for what it was, and, more importantly, she had talked to me! I did a slight victory dance, before remembering that I was covered from head to toe in coffee, and in the middle of the student café, so I added some cream and sugar to my coffee, and went back to our room to enjoy the caffeine, get a shower and change my clothes. After all, I still had three exams to take that day.


*******
AN: Thanks for reading!!!

[sadie]

Awww so sad to see what happened between them... But they'll work it out I am sure...right!?? soonish?? Hehe...

But seriously I like where it's going... baby steps and very well written, too.. I like your style & perspective! Thanks

[diamondforever]

I can't believe I missed this the first two times around...this is absolutely lovely. Unrequited love turned to avoidance and bitterness is so common when we're younger. I hope Tara will find it in her to forgive Willow. It would be hard, no doubt. But we must believe!

Please update soon.

[mag]

great update!! ´First of all, excuse me for my bad english.

Tara has the right to be nad to willow during all this time, willow was her best friend and was one of those who leaves her for who she is.

has tara a life after willow?? will tar forgive willow not be with her during her hard times in life?
maybe if tara has someone whoi can take care of her during her college time that will be good becuase if tara spends a lot of time out of her room, she must have someone, maybe not a girlfriend but someone who cares of her.

see you soon

mar

[Shai]

Ok, I've been reading this fic for the last couple of days now, and I think you really deserve some feedback. I like the story lots. It's different to everything I've read before. They're not strangers, but right now it would have probably been easier for WIllow if they were. Willow also doesn't seem to have grasped what she feels for Tara yet (if in fact she's even in love with her yet), and I can completely understand Tara being hurt and angry at being abandoned by her best friend, apart from being heartbroken.

I look forward to reading your updates.

Cheers!

[Amberslover]

This is an awesome story...I love it! for you, hope you continue it and I hope our girls start to patch things up soon!

Amberslover

[badkitty]

MM:

I must confess, I usually don't like stories written in the first person, but I am loving this. Firstly, because you're good at it - you have Willow's voice down pretty well. And secondly, because it's just a good story. It's simple, which I like, and very easy to read. And there's just enough angst to make you want to keep reading, for the inevitable happy resolution. I can't wait for the next update! And I'm secretly, (or now not-so-secretly) hoping you decide to add some smut at some point, cuz that would be yummy. Just sayin.

-bk

[sacinema]

That's one hell of a story beginning. Wow. Poor Tara. I also don't appreciate I-Stories so much but this one is really good. Willow seems to be the "bad" one and all the pity goes with Tara. But we only hear about the things coming from Willow. Interesting point of view.

Thanks for sharing the story and I'm really looking forward for the next update. Wonder how they are going to talk again. Seems to me like the coffee incident won't lead to more understanding and to talking again. You already revealed Tara has to go through a lot more trouble. Willow is just to young to act responsible. Tara, remember she is trying.

[mangled_monkey]

Everyone- I want to make it hereby known that I will NOT respond on this thread unless I have an update posted as well, so any time you see my name, there will be a new chapter.

sadie- They'll work it out... and thank YOU for reading!

diamondforever- I'm almost as big a fan of happy endings as I am a fan of angst. It'll be happy... I promise.

mag- Thank you for reading! Tara has plenty of life, I'm just not going to go TOO far into what's going on with her, at least right now. You'll have to keep reading to find out where Tara's been spending all those nights, because I WILL get there.

Shai- This is definetely a fun exploration for me, I'm still working through the very slow stages of Willow realizing how important Tara is. She hasn't quite gotten there yet, obviously, but she will. I hope that's some hope for those of the readers that don't like angst. I'm sure Willow would have an easier time of it if they were strangers, definetely. But that would be WAY more boring. Thank you!

Amberslover- Define soon...

BK- It's funny, I usually dislike first person stories also. Yet, I've found, that's the way my writing comes out best. I'm not sure why that is, maybe it's easier for me to find a narrative in one person's head and expand from there. Whatever the reason, yay that it's working! And the smut WILL be considered. I've written smut before, but never in first person, and a perspective change as late in the story as where the smut would be would just be awkward. I'll work on it. Expect some short smut stories written as practice posted some time soon.

sacinema- I chose Willow's point of view for this because people often forget how much the betrayer and the bad friend hurts also. All the pity does go with Tara, but I think it's important that Wills is seen as a person with faults and not as the bad guy. Hence it's told from her POV. And the next update is here! Thank you for reading and responding. It really means a lot.



Title: Longing For The Moment
Author: M&M (cause it makes me sound tasty!), Monkey, Sara, MMy, whatever you want to call me.
Feedback: IS MY LIFEBLOOD!... Erm... please?
Distribution: Whoever wants it, ask me first though.
Rating: PG for now, it'll get higher.
Summary: Ten years ago, a mistake was made. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and confusion leave two girls longing for the moment when two will stand against the world.
Disclaimer: Part of the summary, and the title, are taken from the song "First Light" by Bella Morte. I don't own it. I don't own Willow and Tara smoochies, even though I would LOVE to. This is for fun, not profit, yada yada yada. You get the point.
Without further ado, I bring you...



Longing for the Moment- Chapter Three
******


I didn’t see Tara again that semester, since the day with the coffee incident was the second to last day of it. After that day of finals, I was completely finished with all my exams, so I began packing my things up and left that evening, in the car my parents had bought me for a high school graduation gift. Even though it was my first car, the joy in owning it never existed because I didn’t have Tara to ride around with me in my very own first car.

After all this time, I can’t even remember exactly what classes I had taken that semester, or any of the teachers’ or fellow students’ faces, but I always will remember my grades, because they would be impossible to forget. I had maintained a 4.0 since the fourth grade, simply because that was when letter grades began. Before the letter grades it was a series of Os, Ss, and Ns. O for outstanding, S for satisfactory, and N for Non-satisfactory. The only time I received anything less than an O was once in second grade when I got an S in the subject of citizenship. All that meant was I was a bit shy that quarter so I didn’t talk to my classmates much.

The only person I had been concerned about, even that early in my life, was my Tara.

Only she wasn’t mine at the end of that freshman year of college. The academic achievement that I was usually so proud of seemed hollow and as if all the work I had put in had been a waste of my time. I had sat down on my bed at home after having just received my transcript in the mail, and I studied it.

I hadn’t realized how little I cared about my grades after the first semester, it was just something about being home, in that room that had seen countless sleepovers, secrets shared, memories of Tara, that made me feel empty and lost.

I lay back on my bed, my head hitting the pillow without any need for adjustment because the move was so familiar to me by this time, and stared at the ceiling. I smiled sadly, seeing the glow in the dark stars and moons Tara and I had put up after we bought the decorations at the beginning of my fifth grade year. Some of them had fallen down over time, sometimes- usually- at sleepovers. Each time that happened, Tara and I would joke about shooting stars and make a wish on each piece of plastic that hit the floor.

“The last wish I made was…” I sniffled as I cried silently, and spoke out loud to myself. “The last wish I made was for Tara to be happy.” I remembered the wish vividly. A star had fallen two nights after I had foolishly ended our lifelong friendship, and that was the only thing I could think to wish.

I hadn’t realized until that moment exactly how many of our little traditions had carried over into my life without her, how many of my idiosyncrasies she had shared over the years.

Even my organizational pattern, usually something unique to each individual and highly personalized, was due in part to her. When I first started organizing my notes and papers for school, I had a number and alphabetic system that I laid out. It worked, but it was far too complicated. There were three pages of notes explaining how to use the system at the front of all of my notebooks in case I forgot something. Tara had come up with the idea of using colors instead of numbers and letters, since I could underline, highlight and outline information with different colors so I wouldn’t have to remember which number corresponded to which pattern.

I still used the color system that Tara had helped me develop, and I’m sure that it’s what got me through my first year of college relatively sane.

I could practically feel Tara next to me in the bed. I had subconsciously taken the side of the bed I had always used during our sleepovers, and I lay in such a way that, were she there, our arms would just barely be touching, just like it had always been. There was even a Tara-shaped indent in the mattress from all the times she had slept in that spot.

I turned over, burying my face into the pillow as my body wracked with sobs for the friendship and familiarity I had forfeited because I was too stupid to realize she needed me. I clung to the pillow that she usually used and allowed my tears to soak into the yielding softness. This pillow had been relatively new, so hadn’t had much time, only three months or so, to absorb Tara’s shape.

As my sobs died down, I kept clinging to the pillow and, pretending it was her, laid with my head on it, where her heart would be, and imagined that I could feel the soft, rhythmic beating underneath the fabric that, in my mind, was her pajama top.

Though the bed didn’t actually carry her scent, since it had been over a year since she had last been in my room, I could still smell her as if she had never left. She had become a part of that space, and it seemed doubtful at best that this room would ever belong to just me, since it had never before. It was our space, our sanctuary from the outside world. Without it, I wondered, where had Tara retreated when things were hard?

I figured then that I would never know, but I found out that she had found a small patch of woods and began going there when things were too much for her at home, which was often, from everything I understand.

I didn’t hear from, or try to contact Tara until mid-July before our sophomore year in college. Even then, I didn’t hear from her directly. I had gotten home from my summer job doing secretarial work at a computer firm later than usual that day, so the mail had already arrived. Usually I had to wait about a half hour for it to get there, since my neighborhood was close to the last on our mail carrier’s route and I got home relatively early compared to other jobs, around 4.

There were the usual bills, catalogs and advertisements, my parents received a large amount of mail on a daily basis, especially with never being there. I idly wondered for the millionth time how they sorted through it all and kept their home desks so neat and tidy, even though I went through the mail and put it on their respective desks in a neat pile every evening.

When I reached the bottom of the pile, I found one letter addressed to me from my college. It was from the department of student affairs, so I figured it was about my dorm assignment. I took it to my room, set it on my desk, and forgot it for a few days, since I still had some take-home work I needed to finish up.

I had always been an overachiever, so any time one of the higher ups in the firm I was working for needed some last minute editing that one of the secretaries-by-trade didn’t have time to do, I offered my unprofessional but still quite discerning eye and took home the documents to edit for the next morning. That left me with quite a good reputation with the firm, but much less free time than I had had the previous summer. I didn’t care, since I had no one important to spend my time with, and just threw myself into the work.

Four days later, on Saturday when I finally had a day off, I got around to opening that week’s mail. When I got to the letter on the bottom of the pile, the one from school which had been covered with two credit card applications, a chain letter, and a bank statement, I opened it and read it carefully.

It turns out I had been right in my original thought of it being about dorm assignments. What I hadn’t expected was my assigned dorm mate, or the reason for the assignment. At the end of the year, I had gone to the office and put in my official request as “whoever wants me,” which was apparently a perfectly acceptable choice. I had expected a random assignment, but instead, I had gotten Tara. And what’s more, Tara had requested to be my roommate.

I remember that I dropped the paper upon seeing her name, and that I had picked it back up, read that she had requested me, and dropped it again. Once I had it firmly in my grasp, I set it down on the table, and checked the box on the bottom of the paper that said I had read and agreed to my assignment. I shakily tore the bottom off, put the slightly frayed paper in the envelope they had kindly included with the notice, and set it back down on my desk.

I fell back onto my bed moments later and took a deep breath. I would be rooming with Tara again. Maybe that meant that she wanted to see me, or talk to me. Maybe she wanted to patch things up, maybe she had gotten my note and forgiven me for everything I had done. I felt hope well up inside me, until it all burst with another, far more depressing thought.

Maybe she just wanted a roommate that she knew would leave her alone.


*****
AN: No note at this time. Thank you.

[diamondforever]

They are in the path that leads to the path of recovery! Woohoo! I wonder if Tara will be any different when they get back to school. Great update. I loved Willow's monologue about Tara impacting her life in such subtle ways. It's so true...I start dressing/talking the way my friends do without even knowing it sometimes!

[witchlove]

i am really enjoying the story so far

[Shai]

Another lovely update. I can't wait to see where you take this story

[sacinema]

This story really is angsty. So sad. Poor Willow she just doesn't know how to make things better. I really fear for her being right about Tara's intention for rooming with her again.

I agree with you the "bad guys" are not usually the ones who are not hurt. They are but we seem to forget. This Willow makes it clear. She is hurt but she has no clear idea how to end all this. But it's her part to apologize and to show to Tara that she is worth the forgiveness.

[writerfreak]

I am thoroughly enjoying this, the pain is hitting home with some things in my own life and it helps me get a release for a bit. Wonderful as always.

writerfreak

[CrazyTaraWitch]

i've totally fallen in love with this story!!! can't wait to read the next part!

[sadie]

Aaww interesting turn, with the dorm assignment! I really like this story... and its regular updates thanks for that. And no thanks for me, but to you for sharing!

[mangled_monkey]

I meant to update last night, but I got distracted with my current vid project. I accidently dubbed one of the clips I had just ripped from my DVD in spainish, so I got to hear Willow say "Prince of night, I summon you! Come fill me with your black naughty evil!" In spainish, which was quite a treat. Especially since I only speak english. Anyways...

diamondforever- I love how friends affect eachother so deeply. I've had my best friend since middle school, this is our 8th year of being best friends. Now you'd think we were twins, because someone says something that reminds us of a song, and we both start singing simultaneously without even looking at eachother. We've got the routine down pat. It's great deals of fun. I find it really fun to imagine what a nutcase someone would be without their best friend. And by great fun, I mean depressing. And hey! More recovery to follow!!

witchlove- Thank you. I hope you continue to enjoy, cause I know I will!

Shai- *rubs hands together evilly* You shall see... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! ... ahem... Sorry about that.

sacinema- Wills is trying! I swear! So does she!!! Is it odd that I find the bad guys more interesting than the good guys? Even though Tara's my favorite of the two, I find her WAY more interesting when she has a dark side. And... I could go into a bunch of psychological stuff, but I won't because that would be a longer entry than this next chapter is.

writerfreak- I'm glad you're enjoying, it's great when you can get that release.

CrazyTaraWitch- The story loves you too! Story>
sadie- Hopefully this stuff will be interesting also... I hope I hope I hope... And I'm going to thank you anyway! Cause you're reading, and that's more important than my writing, because just writing without an audience isn't NEARLY as much fun.

Anyways...

Title: Longing For The Moment
Author: M&M (cause it makes me sound tasty!), Monkey, Sara, MMy, whatever you want to call me.
Feedback: IS MY LIFEBLOOD!... Erm... please?
Distribution: Whoever wants it, ask me first though.
Rating: PG for now, it'll get higher.
Summary: Ten years ago, a mistake was made. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and confusion leave two girls longing for the moment when two will stand against the world.
Disclaimer: Part of the summary, and the title, are taken from the song "First Light" by Bella Morte. I don't own it. I don't own Willow and Tara smoochies, even though I would LOVE to. This is for fun, not profit, yada yada yada. You get the point.
Without further ado, I bring you...



Longing for the Moment- Chapter Four
******



I don’t really remember if I had actually expected the moving in and getting settled process to be any different the beginning of our sophomore year, but I do remember that it wasn’t. Tara had managed to move all her things in and get settled before I even visited the room, so that by the time I got there, she wouldn’t have to run into me at all unless she wanted to. She had taken the top bunk and the desk against the far wall, still seemingly wanting to be as inconspicuous and out of the way as possible. I absentmindedly noticed that she had gotten a new sheet and comforter set since the last year. The sheets were a plain deep purple color and the comforter was the same purple with silver stars and golden moons all over it.

I took a moment to wonder when she would be coming back to the room, if I would run into her at all now that she had a different class schedule. I figured that it was very doubtful that I would see her until, or if, she wanted to be seen. She still knew me very well, so she still knew my schedule. I was, and still am, a creature of habit. I almost always go to bed at the same time, and wake up at the same time, even on weekends. I had even planned out my first semester schedule with Tara, thanks to the early registration classes that began opening mid-semester before the start of the new year. I scheduled different classes for the exact same times all throughout college and grad school.

I made no attempt to contact her, and heard nothing from her, during the first month and a half of school. But, on October 12th, four days before our birthday, something possessed me to get her a present, like I hadn’t done the year before. I knew that whatever I got had to be just right, not too impersonal and still displaying that I cared about her, while showing how sorry I was at the same time. I spent the next two days searching, when I wasn’t in class or studying, and finally found the perfect present just when I thought it was too late.

Years earlier, when she was 12, Tara had lost her piece of the bracelet she shared with me. We had been playing and it fell off and into a storm drain. We spent hours trying to get it out, and even tried to call someone from the county to pull it out for us, but it was to no avail. The bracelet was lost, and Tara was devastated. She mourned for that bracelet for a full week. It was a piece of her childhood gone forever, even as those years were slipping away from her as she began maturing into adulthood. I knew the bracelet I found would be a poor substitute, but it was exactly the same, minus the wear, as the one she had lost.

I had found the bracelet online, so I opted for the overnight delivery. I bought a box and wrapping paper for it- purple, Tara’s favorite color, as well as a cutesy and non-committal birthday card. The package arrived the next morning, the day before our birthday. I wrapped the bracelet, signed the card with a simple “With love from Willow”, sealed the envelope and wrote her name on it, and left them both on her pillow when I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, the box and card were gone. I smiled to myself, hoping Tara had liked the gift, and turned around, noticing something on my desk that hadn’t been there the night before. Between my psychology book and my pack of different colored pens sat a small green box, and a card. I walked slowly and hesitantly over to my desk, for some reason afraid that if I moved too quickly the box would disappear, as if it were just a figment of my imagination. As I snuck, in full on cartoon fashion, a clip of Elmer Fudd ran through my head. Be vewy vewy quiet. I’m hunting boxes.

The scene was so absurd that I would’ve giggled if I hadn’t been afraid that it would startle the box and make it run away like a frightened, well, rabbit.

When I got close enough, within arm’s reach, I snatched the box up quickly, as if grabbing it before it jumped off the desk. I took a moment and giggled softly at my foolishness, remembering that boxes couldn’t jump unless they were that wind up kind that did flips like those little toys you could buy at the dollar store. I then began to wonder if they actually made wind up flippy boxes before I remembered the extremely important real box that I was holding, and the possible contents within it.

I sat down in my desk chair, thinking I may need the extra stability, and slowly began unwrapping the box. Once I got the green paper off, I inspected the tan box that was underneath and determined that I wouldn’t need anything special to open it. I took a deep breath and removed the top of the box. Inside was a bracelet that I recognized all too well. During our junior year of high school, Tara had gotten into making jewelry with her mother, since Winnie was very ill that year and couldn’t get out of bed for weeks on end. They spent weeks planning each piece, making the beads, and stringing them lovingly onto carefully chosen cord. Each bracelet or necklace was highly personal to the both of them.

The bracelet contained in the box I was holding was the third piece of jewelry they made together. The third out of six. It was a deep emerald color, a shade that I remember had taken Tara a long time to find. I had gone with her to the craft store when she had finally found the dye and helped her pay for it. She had never promised me the bracelet, or given me any indication that she wanted me to have it, but she did say once that it reminded her of my eyes. Remembering that, I began to wonder if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she had given it to me.

On one hand, she could have given it to me because it was highly personal to her and I had helped her pay for the dye, so she wanted me to have it. On the other, she could have given it to me because it reminded her of me and she didn’t want to look at it anymore. But, if that were the case, why would she keep the bracelet I had given her rather than just leaving it on my desk?

I then began to wonder if Tara had even opened the box yet, or the card for that matter. She could have been in a rush and just stuffed them into her bag and forgotten about them, figuring they were from someone else. Of course, no one else had a key to our room or even knew that I knew her, and she knew my handwriting too well for that to be a possibility.

I frowned as I remembered that my handwriting was something else she had helped me develop. Since she was a year older, she had gotten the hang of it quicker and didn’t write her 5s and Ss backwards anymore by the time she was in second grade. I, still in first grade, still wrote some of the letters backwards. The 5s weren’t as much of an issue as the Ss, since there is an S in Rosenberg. She had taught me how to write the characters correctly. She also had helped me with cursive, guiding my hand so I understood easier, and teaching me a year before our school did.

I took the bracelet out of the box and put it on, gently fingering the beads and remembering the many times I saw Tara wearing this same bracelet at school. I then realized that I hadn’t showered yet, took the bracelet off, put it reverently back in the box, grabbed my bathroom kit, and went to the bathrooms.

After my shower, I got dressed in my favorite green shirt and a pair of jeans, then again carefully put on the bracelet. I shook my wrist a little, getting used to the feel of it moving on my skin. I smiled slightly and picked up my bag so I could go to class.

As I reached for the doorknob, it twisted and the door opened. I was rather startled by this, and the first thing I saw enter the room was a hand, wearing the bracelet that I had carefully wrapped the night before. A moment later I saw Tara’s surprised face as we almost bumped into each other. I took a step back, to give her more room to enter, and smiled at her, since it appeared that she liked the gift.

She smiled back at me nervously, fiddling with her sleeve. “W-willow…”

My smile widened ever so slightly, hearing her say my name, and I said the first thing that came to my mind. “Happy Birthday, Tara.”

I watched as her face brightened a bit, and her smile became slightly more confident. “Happy Birthday, Willow.”


*****
AN: Happy Birthday anyone reading this who's birthday it happens to be!!!

[DaddyCatALSO]

Rofivenberg? I like it.

[Thianne]

wow. i can't believe i only just found this fic. it's wonderful....well written and the idea is simply fabulous. i can't wait for an update...it really is a terrific story