Amara was well aware of the fact that Leo was 12 years older than her. But age was just a number, right? All the big celebrities dated people half and double their age these days so people would not be frowning upon it. Which was why she had been quite excited for him to actually agree to meet her for lunch. Of course it was all on his terms but that was fine with her.

“Can I have the Caesar salad with some bread, please? And just water for a drink. Thank you.” The girl smiled as he handed the menu back to the waitress and waited for her to walk away before she looked back at Leo. He was a handsome man for his age. Perfect for the role in the film they were shooting. Of course she was a bit obsessed with him, all females were. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me, first of all.” He didn’t seem to the one eager to be kept waiting, though, so she decided to just jump right into it. “What’s in it for you? People will be off your back about your dating life for one.” As one of the bachelors of the movie world she knew enough to know he got asked about his love life all the time. “What I’m suggesting is a PR relationship. We get seen out together holding hands, dates.. People will want to know my name and who I am at the same time that they will be off of your back about women.”

Leo listened to Amara politely, mostly because the waitress was back with their drinks. He took a sip as he silently raised his hand to stop her. “Sweetheart, I knew what you wanted before you even said a word to me, I meant what e x a c t l y, are you proposing?” Usually, Leo would be annoyed and dismissive, but for some reason he found her naiveté...cute. Rolling up his sleeves, Leo leaned closer, “Listen, A PR relationship is business, which means terms. A set number of said ‘dates’ and ‘hand holds’, length of relationship, how the split will be handled...” 

"I'll take a rum and diet coke," Leo said, handing the waitress his menu back without even glancing at it, "And a grilled chicken salad with low-fat blue cheese dressing." Leo waited for his companion to order, settling his napkin in his lap and leaning back into their private booth. He watched the waitress walk out of earshot before turning toward the woman across from him, the smile he always wore when interacting with the public dropping. "So, lets hear it, what exactly are you proposing here?"

Leo had dealt with his fair share of young, new to the scene actresses trying to use his fame to gain their own following, and if there has been any doubt that that was the reason his co-star had asked him to lunch it had been quickly deflated when she asked to go to the most popular, paparazzi infested bistro. He had agreed to lunch, but only at his favorite, private, spot. Usually he wouldn't humor her, or anyone who was C list or below, but she was stunning with a clean reputation to match. However, her talent didn't quite match her looks, yet anyway, and in the meantime his connections and status would do wonders to her career. Besides, he was 38 now and his playboy charm was wearing off, it wouldn't be a bad thing to be spotted with one woman consistently, at least seemingly. However he wasn't about to offer that information up just yet, "And lets start with what's in it for me."

Mordecai wants to hold his breath and be taken a back. He almost did the same sort of head tilt and open mouth gap he does when he is confused but he knew it wouldn’t be genuine. The first thing he wanted to say was of course, I love you, slightly gesturing to the scenic road around them and the manicured lawns. But, then that is it. The thing is though, when they slowly ruined each other, they still loved their friends and family, and even when Mordecai spent a night walking aimlessly around the city because he didn’t want to go to their house and didn’t want to fight, and didn’t want to go to his old flat because it felt like giving up, he never told anyone about it. When Stan or anyone asked, how Amelia is, he said good, good, great actually, and smiled, when his mom called to ask when her boys are planning to visit her, he replied soon, maybe next month, even though he was thinking about moving out, and he knew Ameila was acting the same way. The impeding quiet desperation was stuck in his throat when he said, “Honestly, didn’t think you cared about whether or not I loved you anymore? Doesn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of home owners associations or fucking community garden meetings or whatever the fuck needs to be polished.” Mordecai cannot even figure out for himself where the defensiveness came from. “I actually think that If I said, I love you a thousands times, you would still want to sink your fangs into me.”

Amelia didn’t let Mordecai’s words slow her as she set the table, silverware, plates, back to the stove to flip the now golden brown pancake on to the growing stack, pour more batter into the pan, add chocolate chips (Jack’s favorite). No, the one thing she could say definitively was that no matter how miserable she was, no matter what state her marriage was in, she never let it affect her parenting. “Well I don’t, not anymore, not now that I-” don’t love you anymore. The words sat heavy on the tip of her tongue and they died there unspoken. Amelia wasn’t afraid to say it, but it was the type of thing she would say at night, after a day of festering, unchecked emotions, heightened by several glasses of wine, and even if the fighting didn’t accomplish anything at least it passed the time while she waited for her sleeping pills to kick in and sink her into unconsciousness. 

open: m/f/nb

Suburbia is a battleground, an arena for all forms of domestic combat. Parents cross swords with children’s, mother-in-laws fight for battleground in the home but the boldest battles in Suburbia often involve two doting lovers. The war for control of began sometimes since they brought this house with a manicured lawn, and Mordecai had been losing ground ever since. All things considered, this might one of the better mornings in their quant house. The coffee pot was hot and steaming but this does not negate the core illusion that overwhelms the room. The fight from last night still lingers in his mind, trying to piece together what all of this meant. There is more to life than breakfast that they were quickly making aside each other like roommates in a home with biological keeping them attached. “Is this our new normal? Fighting when the kids go to sleep and silence when they wake up?” He questions, while sliding sizzling bacon onto a plate.

Amelia likes the silence. After years of snide comments and quips, forced small talk and desperate, last ditch efforts of grasping at something that simply no longer existed, she found comfort in the familiar, albeit pointed and passive aggressive, silence. It’s preferable to fighting, at the very least. Despite the fact she spends the quiet time mentally sharpening her knives and obsessing over everything she knows, or once knew, about the man she married in order to find the places stabbing him would hurt the most. Yes, the years of unhappiness has made her bitter, she’s aware. 

possible connections: exes or previously unrequited love. give me all the angst !!

         “I STOPPED waiting for you a long time ago.”