#denzel fic

Sighing as you finally made it to the other side of your door, the wood met our forehead with a soft thump. The day was finally over. It was time to uncork that wine and start to set your rollers like you planned.

The boys would be out and enjoying their weekend, the two youngest at their grandparent's house. Your eldest two on a fishing trip with your brother. God bless the village.

“Welcome home, baby.”

You jumped and turned to look over your shoulder. Down the hallway from the front door, you could hear the TV going in the den and you did not leave the light on. You waited for another call, confirmation and to be released from going further.

A familiar, fluty whistle beckoned you and then you sighed. You left your bag on the counter and the keys in the lopsided clay bowl.

You took your time, swapping your work shoes for your slippers as you went down the hallway. All the while, you steading yourself came easier this time around.

You clenched your fist behind your back, released it, and then came into full view. He sat on your couch with the remote in hand, throw blanket on his lap as any husband should be when waiting for his wife to come home.

“Hello, Alonzo.”

He patted the spot next to him without looking away from the TV. You came a few steps closer but no more than that.

Alonzo stood with a little sigh, coming to stand in front of you. You looked up at him and waited for him to say something. What could be the possible reason for this little 'wellness check ' as he liked to disguise what was clearly butting into your business.

Looking you over, his touch was light on your hips. You felt him pull you a little but you did not come. Alonzo did not try again, but did not move his hands. He dropped his chin and those microscopes he called eyes searched your face.

"Haven't come to see me in a while, I wanted to check on you."

"That's the point being separated, to not see each other every day, 'Lonz."

He rolled his shoulder, "You don't see me but I see you--that's what matters most--you're right, baby." Something you already knew, still able to send a shock of unease through you. You matched his airy tone with one of your own,

"What matters most is you seeing the boys, which you do. That's what's important."

"Important. That's what you call this whole thing that you're doing to us, to our sons? When you don't have to?"

You shrugged and said nothing. If Alonzo wanted your separation to be called a 'thing' you 'didn't have to do', then so be it. You looked into his handsome face, the same face that smiled as it fed you lie after lie over the last decade. Pity after insult after wound, he spun you around on the axis of your heart and you thought it was love.

Alonzo's hold turned into a soft grip, even more familiar as he stepped into your space. He his dark eyes dipped down and up again as his head tilted,

“Don't get me wrong--you said you'd be gone, you did, yes. But staying gone? Can't say I called that. Didn’t I give you a good life? Weren't we good?”

Was he serious? You stamped down the reflex to get angry. You replied as measuredly as possible,

"We weren't good enough. It seems."

Alonzo looked at you, then. His eyes dark and searching, his face masked gently enough for you to know he was trying. Trying to keep from saying something smart, probably.

He breathed hard through his nose and brought your hands to kiss. You hated the way a part of you still felt tender for him.

“It’s time for you to come home. You and the boys," he said softly, kissing your knuckles again, "It's too quiet without you all there. Was good for a month or two, yeah, but…it’s been long enough.”

“Oh, is that so? I made a nice home for us here if you happened to looked around when you let yourself in."

“What you have here is very nice. Took me by surprise you have this all...put together. We can keep this, if you want. Ya’ll just have to come home with Daddy—that’s all.”

“No, Alonzo. I am home. We've already explained this to the boys. This is how it has to be. You have what you want, I have what I want.”

He stared you and you stared back. Why he was there, you weren't sure. You wasn’t sure what Alonzo fought so hard for when half the time he pretended you didn’t exist. When it was good, things were amazing but when it wasn't...that could be intense.

“Why did you do it, ‘Lonz?” Your curiosity won over your sense, “If you knew there was a possibility of all this…why do it anyway?”

“I could.” He shrugged, giving you a small smile, “She was there and easy. I had a long day and a longer ride home, ‘is all.” 

You took a deep breath, taking your hands away. The answer hurt and it was meant to. Alonzo's glacial delivery made it all the more helpful to stamp the doubt flickering through you.

You couldn't go back. Not at all. Your boys were getting old enough that certain questions they asked were harder to answer. It was your oldest son who asked if you were really happy.

"I don't want to see you fightin' like this, anymore..."

Your heart broke. Your two eldest boys were prepared to drop out to help out more but you nipped that in the bud. Their only jobs were to remain children and in school. They were to work hard and do their best, never allowing anyone to cheapen them.

You'd take care of the rest, you told them. Knowing that even if it took your last breath--your babies would know that you loved them.

They were your strength. They were your all.

If the outcome was to his design, Alonzo did not care for the tools that got broken in the way. Alonzo has always been this way and will always be this way.

“I am not going back.” You spoke firmly and kept his gaze, “We can plan things to do with the boys but... I am not going back to how things were." I'm sorry. A part of you still wanted to say it but you wouldn't apologize. Not for choosing your children.

Alonzo sat down again and stared forward for a moment--you knew he wasn't entertained. Not by your words or what played on the screen.

“I’m going to make it right, baby. No matter how long it’ll take. You're going to come home, one of these days."

You shook your head, "That ain't the type of forever I was promising myself to, Alonzo."

His head tilted to the side with another lopsided smile, "When did you start being so eloquent? What have you been reading? " Oh, good ol’ ‘Lonzo.

Alonzo could laugh all he wants too, but you could see the strain in his eyes. He was trying to find a way back into your head, knocking on every soft spot he could find but it was different this time. You were different this time.

Who knew? Maybe a part of you knew that one of these check ups were due because you were learning his game so well?

"That's just something about me you're going to miss, huh?"

Surprisingly, that shut him up. It didn't stop him from taking hold of your hand again. Your fingers wove through his from memory alone, but he didn't say anything as he tugged you to sit next to him on the couch.

His arm went around your shoulder, pulling you to lay on him despite the look you gave him.

"Don't be looking at me like that--It's like a fucking icebox in here."

You sucked your teeth on instinct at the automatic response. So he really hasn't changed too much...

For the first time, in a long time, your husband sat by your side to watch nonsense on the screen. He tossed the throw over you both and you couldn't help like you were relaxing on a tiger.

That was more than fine. You made it this far, you've built a life and actually began taking part in it. Alonzo was done with his games, but it wouldn't be for long before he'll tell you what he really wanted.

Until then, you laid your head on his chest and cuddled close. You'll give just a little, you told yourself, it was best to keep the beast purring.

Alonzo made a low noise, saccharine and so satisfied as he pressed a kiss to your hair,

"I know. I missed you too, baby..."

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✨ending notes:✨soooooo guess who saw a gif set from Training Day and now her world is consumed with a slick smiling, leather coat clad psycho with little to no limits or respect for any personal boundaries 😌 ya'll i don't even know what to say, after that gif set and a very ahem interesting dream, i had to get this man out of my headand I'm not even sure what this is lmao! I'm thinking this may need a prt. 2 at some point to round things off Tell me what you think and thank you so much for reading!! 💕💖✨💕💖

💕taglist:💕 @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @blackerthings @notapradagurl7 @theereina @miyuhpapayuh

Dudley keyed into his place and moved aside for you to go forward first.

“Please excuse the mess, call myself clearing out some junk and, well–y’know how it is.”

You and Dudley crowded the space at the front door, you still wiping your feet on the mat while Dudley hung up his coat on a nearby rack. 

It did look like Dudley was in the middle of some near spring-cleaning and got side tracked. A few boxes here and there, folded linens ready to be washed or put away after being dried. All evidence of someone who thought they would be back within 10 minutes. 

A barely-there-mess in your opinion, nothing like the battlefield you left behind your closed door. 

Dudley broke into your thoughts with, “If you could?” 

He was pointed down to his sock-clad feet and you hurried to toe out of your boots. It was a clumsy affair, one hand going up on the door to steady yourself as you wouldn’t put down your planter. Dudley didn’t stick around to feel anyway about it as he rushed off to prevent a very delicious apartment fire. 

He did call for you to make yourself at home on the couch. 

Slowly, you came into the living room. It was the same layout as your place but you swore it was bigger, wider, familiar. You and your planter wandered, the sound of Dudley’s humming coming in and out as you moved to and fro. A place you passed by, scents you’ve caught before. You thought you would be self conscious in pajamas, robe and fuzzy socks in a house that wasn’t yours but that zing of anxiety was batted away by your curiosity.

There were pictures everywhere. Of people, of animals, of places–had Dudley gone to all these places? Met all these people? You had to believe it, there were as many polaroids as there were framed pieces. In between the moments of Dudley’s life were his interests, a radio, a record player, and a keyboard signaled to you that maybe he was a lover of music. 

A keyboard caught your eye as you went past. Just a hunch.

Further in the apartment you also found bookshelves that didn’t just have books. You saw vinyl records, statues and figurines, memorabilia and just a little bit of everything. A corner that was completely overrun with plants from the luscious to the prickly, some you would bet Ms. Rose would love to have for herself.

There was even a big and tall window that was like a portal into another, snowy world. The city stretched out before you like twinkling stars stuck in cotton. You held the planter tighter, turning and walking fast away from the gust of wind that vibrated the glass.

You found your way back to the living room, staring at the back hall with suspicion lapping at corners of your tired mind. So much space…was that right? 

Dudley came back with a mugs in both of his hands, setting one down to move around some throw pillows to give you enough room. You were caught off guard by Dudley handing you a mug, it felt nice against the chill of your hands. When you settled the planter on your lap, you jolted from the cold of the planter.  

“Ah, you can put that down wherever you want.”

The thought of its weight being gone, your hands being free–you only nodded but did not move the pot from your lap. 

He only shrugged and grabbed a small remote from the table to switch on the stereo you missed beneath the TV. Jazz filled the air, a slow piano following along with a horn you couldn’t place. You bet Dudley could have. Or your Dad.

You looked down at the soil in your planter. The layer of frost hadn’t begun to defrost yet, probably wouldn’t for a while. 

“May I?”

You hadn’t realized Dudley had been standing there with an afghan. You stalled, looking up at him with your throat tightening.

“You hadn’t taken your coat off, so I thought you would be more comfortable with a blanket,” Dudley’s voice was soft, “Keeping it on is fine too, ‘course, I just want to be sure you’re comfortable.”

You looked down at your planter. The bottom was dirty from being outside for season after season, you didn’t want to dirty up–

Dudley put down the blanket for a moment, “I can hold on to that for you, if you like.”

It wasn’t a bad idea and you could have it right back once you made yourself comfortable. You put your pot into Dudley’s hands and kept your eyes on it as you stripped out of your coat, draping the blanket over your shoulders at once.

“There! Now you look like you got a host that cares.”

You stared at him, surprised that you wanted to smile, “What were your parents like?”

“My parents?”

“For you to be like this?”

“Like what?”

You rubbed your forehead, slowly and in a circular motion as you tried to remember how to talk like a normal person, “So…gracious.”

Dudley let out a rich chuckle as if you said a real knee slapper, “I’ll tell you what–my Pops would be surprised to hear someone say something like that.”

“Really? Was he really strict or something?”

Dudley placed the planter onto the table right in front of you before going back towards the kitchen, talking to be heard over the more upbeat jazz song that replaced the earlier one. 

“Well, my Pops was–is–like every father ever. Always had the highest hopes for all his children. Trying to figure out how much space to give–lessons to teach. That sort of thing. With me–he said I was too busy. So he gave me work to do.”

The sounds of moving silverware and muted cupboards lulled your mind into a lazy crawl.

You laid down on the comfortable couch, keeping your feet off the cushion but hovering in the air. You could see Dudley from there. You listened to him as kept that delicious scent in the air and told you about all the duties his father delegated to him and his busy hands.

If lying on his couch was too much, Dudley did not seem to mind. You imagined what baby Dudley would look like in a garage, work-shed, or a carpenter’s shop. Picking up fallen screws and sweeping up shavings, maybe talking his Daddy’s ear off about all the places he’d go…

“He always told me one thing more than the most, mostly after we’ve had a disagreement,” Dudley paused in his stirring, head tilting towards the ceiling as his pitch changed an octave deeper.

“Don’t want to listen? Fine then. Go where you like. Go, so I can know where to find you.”

“Hm?”

“Eh, that’s watering it down alot. Pops can be a little long-winded, like his son,” He turned and winked at you before going over to open a cabinet, “Either way, I think that’s a parent’s way of understanding that pesky ‘free will’ we all have.” 

Your brows came together, confused by his intent. Dudley seemed to have misplaced something in the kitchen from the way he stood in there with his hands on his hips, staring into the cabinet with a furrowed brow.

“When someone who loves you or even wants to love you, they will learn the places where you will go to find you. That is what I mean.”

“What if you go to shitty places? Places they don’t want to see you at? Will they still–

Dudley cut you off with a clap of the cabinet, “Yeah, they will be.”

Your mouth snapped shut and he met your narrowed eyes with a set of his own, only his smile was different. This man was impervious to your iciness, your indifference, your anger, and then your silence. Still, he looked at you as if there was nothing but time on his hands and he wanted to spend it on you. Every time you checked the clock on the radio across the room, it was as if the minutes forgot to move across the screen.

“What made you make that flower pot?”

“Oh…erm…it was a while ago..”

It was a nice day and you went for a walk, it was something like out of a movie. This happened in the summer, if you recall correctly. You found a flyer for a ceramics class and you just went. The whole day felt magical, finding your way down to the course and going through the steps of forming the clay on the wheel. 

“It was something new to me and it came out…decent.” You looked down at the pot on the table. It wasn’t too special aside from the leaf patterns that you carved and stuck onto its sides. It was different shades of green and speckled with golden flecks of paint. It shone brightly in the sunlight.

“Sounds like you're pretty proud of it.”

“There were a few better ones.”

“I'm sure there were but none of them looked like yours, right?”

You made a face in his direction, Dudley catching it with a laugh as he came over with two bowls filled to the brim.

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✨Ending notes✨: Still going strong with this one, I guess I really go to get this one out 😅 tell me if my formatting is too bad too, lol this is very healing for me and my homegirls (who are also me😌) and i hope ya'll will tell me what you think! thank you so much for reading! 💓✨💖✨💓✨💖

💓Taglist💓: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @blackerthings @notapradagurl7 @theereina @miyuhpapayuh

The hallway was going on forever.

You swore you saw numbers you’ve never seen before, but you didn’t even feel like checking to be sure. What difference did it make anyway, really.

This was the first time you’ve walked the floor since you were fired. Had you even left the apartment at all since then? You definitely ran your reserves low but you also didn’t make moves to draft a grocery list. Not very good markers of time passed.

You thought of your family suddenly and it felt like stepping on a bruise. You missed so many people, wish you could feel so many other things aside from–

“Oh, is everything okay, dear?”

Your spine straightened and you pasted in a smile as you turned towards where Mr. Albert was coming down the hallway from the elevator. He used one hand to steady his wife, the other firmly on his cane, but his eyes were fixed onto where you and Dudley stood in the hallway. Despite his stature, Mr. Albert was in the military in his youth and could still have that Snap-To! about him.

“Everything is all good, Ms. Rose How are you doing today, Mr. Al?” You held up your barren pot as you went over to the elderly couple so they could get a better look, “I forgot this little guy up top–time to bring him back home, right?”

“Ah, it'll be fine! A little love and TLC, right?”

You could only smile helplessly as Ms. Rose patted your cheek, her worn skin warm and wringing another knot into your throat. Behind her, her husband exchanged nods with Dudley.

“If it wasn't for this little flower pot you lot would be shoveling me out by now,” Dudley said then looked down at the frigid soil, “She came right on time! Huh, buddy?”

“He can't hear you, I sent him to the upper room, look at him!"

While Mr. Al laughed and Ms. Rose smacked her lips, you thought you saw a shift in Dudley's expression.

A hand joining yours on the pot took you from your thoughts. Ms. Rose looked at you for a moment longer, then said in a quieter voice.

“It'll come back. It may take some time, but I'll come back. Hm?”

Ms. Rose was the resident Mother Nature with boxes and boxes of flowers that bloomed faithfully every spring. Technically the entire roof was for the tenants free use but everyone agreed that the planning of floral excellence was best left up to Ms.Rose. You brought her what you wanted to see and she made it bloom dutifully.

Such a woman who had a way with petals and thorns, you often hoped that you'll find that something that would be your shield in the rock-storm that life could be.

“I…believe you, Ms. Rose.” You recalled a laugh, “I'll definitely need some help.”

“Oh, don't you worry–I know just the thing!

That's when Mr. Al interjected to remind his wife that they were expecting a call from their daughter. That got Ms. Rose hightailing it towards their door, calling out a promise over her shoulder that she would give you ‘just the thing’ to fill that pot.

When the old couple were keying into their apartment door, you turned back away and let out a breath as you released the smile that's been fighting to vacate your face.

Dudley was there, expression…sad.

“That must be very tiring for you to do.”

You said nothing. Dudley could have been talking about anything but…somehow you knew.

Holding the pot tighter, you decided that if Dudley knew you were a fraud that it was okay. Someone should know the truth about you. Without answering him, you resumed the trek to pass and to Dudley’s apartment door.

The heaviness of the pot kept your feet grounded even though its surface nearly burned with frost. Without it and the sight of the withered remains of your plant–you might have floated right on back to the roof.

Or maybe you could–

Dudley’s hand was gentle as he patted your shoulder, his sudden friendliness causing you to give him a shocked look.

“We’re almost there,” he said sure, tone so steady that you felt like you could hang into it for a while.

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✨Ending notes✨: Guess who is apparently on a Denzel kick! 🙋🏾‍♀️there isn't going to be romance between these two, just a few moments of understanding I think lol! I may post another part soon once I work the kinks out but I think I'm liking where it's going! Thank you for reading my scribbles and please feel free to tell me what you think! Thank you so much for reading!! 💕💖✨💕✨💖

💓Taglist💓: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @blackerthings @notapradagurl7 @theereina @miyuhpapayuh