Work Text:
You think about Llewyn and how you would take care of him. You'd cook him breakfast, make him coffee after a night at the gaslight. He'd be up on the stage baring himself, his sadness and his joy to a room full of strangers. After the gig you'd take him home and fuck him slowly and sweetly in your bed, Llewyn pressed to your front, sliding against your body as he thrusts achingly slow and deep into you. Breathing your name as he comes apart like a prayer.
There were times Llewyn would get inspired, like a fever running through him, the sheer despair in him gone for a while and he would write like the devil were over his shoulder, new songs, new melodies that danced in your ears and heart. Those are the times you would fuck furiously. He would seek you out in your apartment and corner you or pin you. Every ounce and inch of him would feel alive and bright, he would be rough, his hands all over you. He'd bite and suck your neck, your breasts, relishing in the taste of your skin, leaving purple bruises, breathing in your scent. Not even managing to fully undress either of you before he's pushing hard into you, holding you up against the nearest wall or surface, taking what he wants from you, you gladly give in to him which ends up leaving you both breathless, satisfied. Those times were like blazing beacons in the pitch black darkness for Llewyn. Sometimes afterwards you would look at him unabashed and unrestrained. He was peaceful, not an inch of the worry or pain visible during the waking hours. Tracing your fingers delicately over his forehead and down his cheekbones, brushing over his full beard to his wonderful lips. He was devastatingly handsome. You loved this man who felt things so deeply he had to numb himself from the world to survive, to put up a wall and keep himself safe from the violence that people could inflict. This strange on and off again relationship had now spanned an entire year of your lives. G-d you were in trouble. Llewyn was trouble.
When he disappeared for a couple of days, (you found out later to Chicago to see Bud Grossman about his solo record), you didn't know what to do with yourself and quite honestly you were a little hurt. You had honestly thought that all the time you'd spent together recently had deepened your connection to each other, and had deepened Llewyn's feelings for you, were there any? There was a spark of hope...or were you just seeing what you wanted to see? It made your insides twist up in anxiety to think about.
The next time you saw Llewyn he was sitting at the bar in the low light of the Gaslight a few fingers of cheap whiskey away from being drunk. You knew he'd been back at least a couple of days now, but neither of you sought the other out. You chose to ignore him now, too hurt, too nervous to approach him. Spotting an empty table you sat down, your legs and arms crossed in a defensive posture. The group on stage introduced the next musician. You really wanted a drink to help settle these nerves but you were stubborn enough to keep your face pointed at the stage, this infuriating man will be the end of your sanity one day.
Then a surprise happens, Al Cody takes up residence on the stage, he was why you were here, but, you thought it was to watch the show together, have a few drinks? You had spent a lot of time with him recently listening to him play some new songs, so you knew Al hadn't been on stage at the Gaslight in a few months now. He always looked great on the stage you thought and his voice and style, whilst strange to some folk, you found it endearing. Al was sweet like a protective older brother, he was at your door as soon as he heard from Jim and Jean that Llewyn had skipped town without a word.
Al cleared his throat and introduced the song, nerves clear on his face and palpable in his voice, "This is for a special someone in the audience, she...uh...she knows who she is". A light blush staining his pale cheeks and he dipped his head low for a moment. He starts strumming his guitar, slipping easily into his stage persona and you can't help but compare him to a particular other man in that moment. For Llewyn it was never about having a persona, whether he sang for a crowd, or just for you he was in his element there was no bravado, no fakery and that was beautiful to you. He shone the brightest to you when he was singing. He had been everything to you this past year and you wondered if he knew it?
You look at Al and are startled to find he's looking directly at you with a soft smile on his face, his eyes intense, as he sings a sweet melody in time with the slow strum of his guitar and for a moment you are captivated.
You freeze a moment as panic begins to settle in your gut when you hear a familiar voice heckle from the bar, you whip your head around to stare aghast at Llewyn who is now standing, 'oh please G-d no!', you think. He gets louder and more obscene the longer Al ignores him, by the end of the song the whole room is tense and angry, eyes onlooking between the stage and Llewyn. Some of the audience choosing to leave halfway through the vitriol Llewyn was spouting, some curious to see what will unfold.
Enough was enough, you were furious. As soon as Al had finished, sparse and apprehensive applause scattered around the room. Al stepped off of the stage guitar in hand and made a beeline for you and you reacted right away, the panic and anger driving you. You stood so fast the chair fell backwards to the floor with a scrape and a thud, heads turned to you now, you were practically stomping towards Llewyn. Pappi was propped at the bar watching the whole debacle amused. In a few swift moments you had reached Llewyn who was like a deer in the headlights, he hadn't noticed you in his drunken haze, eyes wide and taking in the fury surely etched across your face. He didn't expect you to approach him let alone what you would do next, there was no time for him to react. You pulled one hand back and the other grasped the lapel of his jacket as you slapped Llewyn across the cheek. Hard. Your hand and your eyes were stinging now. Pappi let out a laugh and Llewyn somewhat sobered now put a hand over his cheek and looked at you with hurt in his eyes, but you couldn't stand his face a moment longer. You turned on your heel and high-tailed it straight out of the building in to the freezing New York night walking home as fast as your feet would let you.
By the time you got home you had calmed down somewhat. So many things had happened within the space of a few minutes. Al Cody had sung you a love song, (you realise at that moment you had left Al at the club high and dry with no reaction, you felt guilty for that), and you had slapped the face of the man you had been in love with for longer than you cared to remember at that moment. Deciding it was all you could stand to do you walked to your bedroom, kicked off your shoes and fully clothed crawled under the relative sanctuary of the covers. Taking in a deep shuddery breath and breathing out, tears came freely now. Llewyn was definitely breaking your heart. As you silently cried into your sheets you came to a resolution, you were done.
Hours later, you opened your aching eyes to daylight, looking at the clock on your nightstand you notice you had slept through the night and most of the day. As you rubbed your eyes you thought about the events of the night before and you were as resolute as you were last night. Feeling stiff you rolled over in bed, unwilling to rise yet and face what was left of the day. You clenched and flexed your hand, your palm still stung.
You were just starting to shed tears again, the faintest tinge of regret seeping in to your traitorous heart when there was a hard knock at your front door followed by the sound of your name in a pleading voice that unwillingly yanked on your heartstrings. Llewyn knew how to play you just as well as his deft fingers played his guitar. Resolutions be damned.