WithoutSpeaking
Acrobat
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2009
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- 304
Title: Everything You Know Is Wrong
Author: withoutspeaking
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: None of these fine Irishmen are mine, and this is complete and utter fiction.
A/N: My very first U2 fanfic. A bit AU with no Ali in the scene but trying to stay true to fact where possible. Set mainly during ZooTV/AB era during the breakup of Edge's marriage.
*****************
“Good morning, love,” Bono spoke softly as he woke next to me, his voice groggy with sleep as he tied back his long, beautiful hair.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, stroking my shoulder absently.
“Good morning,” I managed, my stomach twisting with shame. I could not meet his gaze.
I’d returned to the hotel with Edge and ended up lying awake most of the night listening to Bono’s content snoring while the guilt ate away at me bit by bit.
Edge and I parted quietly when we got back to the hotel, riding up in the elevator together silently and separating with a hushed goodnight when we arrived on our floor. Part of me wanted to go back to his room and talk things out, but I knew deep down that was a very dangerous thing to do; I feared I would begin to miss the feel of his kiss as it was recent enough that I could still taste him on my lips, his scent still lingering on my shirt. It would fade in time – it would have to – but I knew the only place for me to be right then was with Bono. My beautiful Bono.
Oh, what had I done?
“Ciara, what’s wrong?” Bono asked, continuing to caress my shoulder and then tilting my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You feel so tense,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed it lightly, beginning to massage my shoulder lightly.
“I’m okay, just had a bad sleep last night,” I covered, giving him a crooked grin.
“All right, but if there’s anything wrong, you know you can tell me, love,” he encouraged, wincing a bit as he stopped massaging me briefly to adjust the sling on his arm.
No, Bono, I really can’t.
It wasn’t as though I’d gone any further than a kiss with Edge, but the damage was done. Why did I feel so guilty? It was just a kiss ...
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated, “and never mind me, how is your arm?” I changed the subject, hoping it sounded natural enough.
I was a terrible liar.
“It still hurts like a bastard,” Bono cussed as he stepped out of bed, trudging off to the bathroom and leaving me alone in bed, the warmth of him replaced instantly with cool air.
I let out a deep sigh. He knew something was wrong; the only question now was how far he would push it.
“So, was it everything Edge dreamed of?” he called from the bathroom.
His question startled me.
“Pardon me?”
Oh my God, how could he know?
“The guitar ... was it everything he dreamed of? He wouldn’t quit going on about the thing, I’m glad he finally got it at last.”
“Oh ... yes ... it was very lovely,” I replied, relieved, “he played a bit of Running To Stand Still for me in the shop, it was beautiful.”
“Oh – your favourite song, did he now. Watch out for him, he’s a charmer, you know ...”
Was he joking? He was joking ... wasn’t he?
I was paranoid.
“Are you coming to the sound check today?”
“Erm, I don’t know, Bono, I don’t know if I’ll make the show tonight, I might just have a quiet night in.”
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I had to face this, I couldn’t hide from it forever, and I had now made Bono very suspicious.
“What is wrong, Ciara?” Bono said, stepping out of the bathroom and peering at me from just outside the doorway.
“I’m just a bit overwhelmed is all ... with the fame, with the madness.”
I decided to go with what I knew. I was overwhelmed. Very much so over the events of last night, certainly, but that was still only part of the picture. Things all around us were becoming larger than life, very quickly. Millions of albums, magazine covers, scores of sold out concerts – two nights in a row at Madison Square Garden, beginning tonight, in fact. And now, a movie, on top of it all? It was everything they’d ever dreamed of, but it was too fast, too soon, too much.
Bono sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and stroking it gently.
He pulled me into a kiss, familiar lips on mine, his arms circling me and embracing me in his warmth.
“It’s mad, isn’t it,” he whispered against my ear, nipping gently on my earlobe, “but it’s a necessary madness. You won’t lose me in this, love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was very much what I was worried about. How could I possibly compete with models, actresses and all the striking women who were beginning to collect backstage after the shows, each one of them with their sights set on Bono and each one more beautiful than the last? I was just a dark-haired, brown-eyed Irish girl who lived down the road from him and happened to be in the same form. Maybe I was worried for nothing, but I knew Bono was a passionate soul and often acted before he thought things out fully. The thought scared me. Where would it leave me? What would I have on my CV if it ended today?
Experience: The local chip shop, the local public house, and Bono Vox of U2’s girlfriend.
Perfect.
I watched the show that night from my usual spot on Edge’s side of the stage. Edge stole far too many glances at me over the piano during Running To Stand Still. Bono didn’t notice – he was too busy singing to the attractive group of girls in the front row.
Author: withoutspeaking
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: None of these fine Irishmen are mine, and this is complete and utter fiction.
A/N: My very first U2 fanfic. A bit AU with no Ali in the scene but trying to stay true to fact where possible. Set mainly during ZooTV/AB era during the breakup of Edge's marriage.
*****************
“Good morning, love,” Bono spoke softly as he woke next to me, his voice groggy with sleep as he tied back his long, beautiful hair.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, stroking my shoulder absently.
“Good morning,” I managed, my stomach twisting with shame. I could not meet his gaze.
I’d returned to the hotel with Edge and ended up lying awake most of the night listening to Bono’s content snoring while the guilt ate away at me bit by bit.
Edge and I parted quietly when we got back to the hotel, riding up in the elevator together silently and separating with a hushed goodnight when we arrived on our floor. Part of me wanted to go back to his room and talk things out, but I knew deep down that was a very dangerous thing to do; I feared I would begin to miss the feel of his kiss as it was recent enough that I could still taste him on my lips, his scent still lingering on my shirt. It would fade in time – it would have to – but I knew the only place for me to be right then was with Bono. My beautiful Bono.
Oh, what had I done?
“Ciara, what’s wrong?” Bono asked, continuing to caress my shoulder and then tilting my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You feel so tense,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed it lightly, beginning to massage my shoulder lightly.
“I’m okay, just had a bad sleep last night,” I covered, giving him a crooked grin.
“All right, but if there’s anything wrong, you know you can tell me, love,” he encouraged, wincing a bit as he stopped massaging me briefly to adjust the sling on his arm.
No, Bono, I really can’t.
It wasn’t as though I’d gone any further than a kiss with Edge, but the damage was done. Why did I feel so guilty? It was just a kiss ...
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated, “and never mind me, how is your arm?” I changed the subject, hoping it sounded natural enough.
I was a terrible liar.
“It still hurts like a bastard,” Bono cussed as he stepped out of bed, trudging off to the bathroom and leaving me alone in bed, the warmth of him replaced instantly with cool air.
I let out a deep sigh. He knew something was wrong; the only question now was how far he would push it.
“So, was it everything Edge dreamed of?” he called from the bathroom.
His question startled me.
“Pardon me?”
Oh my God, how could he know?
“The guitar ... was it everything he dreamed of? He wouldn’t quit going on about the thing, I’m glad he finally got it at last.”
“Oh ... yes ... it was very lovely,” I replied, relieved, “he played a bit of Running To Stand Still for me in the shop, it was beautiful.”
“Oh – your favourite song, did he now. Watch out for him, he’s a charmer, you know ...”
Was he joking? He was joking ... wasn’t he?
I was paranoid.
“Are you coming to the sound check today?”
“Erm, I don’t know, Bono, I don’t know if I’ll make the show tonight, I might just have a quiet night in.”
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I had to face this, I couldn’t hide from it forever, and I had now made Bono very suspicious.
“What is wrong, Ciara?” Bono said, stepping out of the bathroom and peering at me from just outside the doorway.
“I’m just a bit overwhelmed is all ... with the fame, with the madness.”
I decided to go with what I knew. I was overwhelmed. Very much so over the events of last night, certainly, but that was still only part of the picture. Things all around us were becoming larger than life, very quickly. Millions of albums, magazine covers, scores of sold out concerts – two nights in a row at Madison Square Garden, beginning tonight, in fact. And now, a movie, on top of it all? It was everything they’d ever dreamed of, but it was too fast, too soon, too much.
Bono sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and stroking it gently.
He pulled me into a kiss, familiar lips on mine, his arms circling me and embracing me in his warmth.
“It’s mad, isn’t it,” he whispered against my ear, nipping gently on my earlobe, “but it’s a necessary madness. You won’t lose me in this, love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was very much what I was worried about. How could I possibly compete with models, actresses and all the striking women who were beginning to collect backstage after the shows, each one of them with their sights set on Bono and each one more beautiful than the last? I was just a dark-haired, brown-eyed Irish girl who lived down the road from him and happened to be in the same form. Maybe I was worried for nothing, but I knew Bono was a passionate soul and often acted before he thought things out fully. The thought scared me. Where would it leave me? What would I have on my CV if it ended today?
Experience: The local chip shop, the local public house, and Bono Vox of U2’s girlfriend.
Perfect.
I watched the show that night from my usual spot on Edge’s side of the stage. Edge stole far too many glances at me over the piano during Running To Stand Still. Bono didn’t notice – he was too busy singing to the attractive group of girls in the front row.
How could she?!
