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Xanderthoughts ? Huis Clos
TITLE: Xanderthoughts (Huis Clos)
AUTHOR: Jonquil Marie watersign28@hotmail.com
And so I lay here , confused and frustrated, in the stifling silence of my room. This time, there is no country music that could ease this awful, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I doubt any country singer has ever felt this bad.
Damn.
I give another glance to the causes of my suffering, the three pictures I've lined up on my bed. Buffy. Willow. Cordelia. I suppose the feelings that arise when I look at each of these pictures could all be described as love. . . . if you were really into down-playing the complexity of emotion.
Cordelia.
Despite our rather turbulent past, I've become quite attached to her. She's proven herself to be not the vapid, unintelligent twit we'd all taken her for, but a bright, brutally honest, and even caring girl, as long as her personal style isn't cramped. My girlfriend. I love it that she's independent, that she's full of life, that she's definitely a match for me in the "witty and sarcastic" department. She never lets me get away with anything without a scathing comment or a passionate kiss. Yes, though I never thought it possible, this girl is also a match for me in the hormone department as well. What I feel when I look at her is an odd (and none-too-comforting) mixture of annoying sibling-type love and unbridled
lust. Oh, *good*. *Wonderful* combination. Maybe I should reach for that country music after all. . . .
Willow.
For the longest time, she's been nothing more or less than my Will. My best friend. But ever since the night of Homecoming, things have been. . . . rather different between us. She was so beautiful that night. . . . when she smiled at me, my whole world brightened and my heart constricted with a fierce ache as I realized how much I love this fragile creature who knows me perhaps better than I know myself. When out lips touched in that first kiss, it was magic. It was storybook romance, a billion Christmas lights at night, windswept meadows, the whole sappy deal. That one, soft kiss left me reeling. How could I ever have been so blind? I think I saw her that way just a little when she started going out with Oz. . . . impeccabl timing as usual, Xander. But when I look at her face, it's like everything else goes away and I can't help but smile a little. It feels right, so right. It feels
like coming home, and I don't know if I want to let that go.
Buffy.
Just that name brings out the most confusing and conflicting set of emotions this side of Oedipus Rex. Right now, the thought of her, the sight of her fills me with rage, but for the love of God, I can't figure out *why* in the world I should be so furious with her. Since she came back from L.A., I've hated myself for the way I've treated her, but some sick, sadistic part of me can't or doesn't want to stop it. When she needed me to be there for her and not press her about what happened since Acathla, I yelled at her for leaving and making my life hard, then I took off with Cordy. Real smooth, Xander. When she was finally able to talk about those painful events, I chided her for not being the same fun-loving Buffy we used to know. When she tried to do something normal and fun like be Homecoming queen, Willow and I deserted her because of our own guilty feelings about our secret involvement. And then, when I found out about Angel's return, I did the verbal equivalent of ripping her heart out. That stricken look in her eyes, that look of absolute betrayal... If I live a hundred years, I'll never forget it. I still try to tell myself that she deserved it, all of it, for leaving without telling us anything, for not letting us help her, for loving a demon. . . . but my conscience keeps telling me otherwise. It keeps telling me things I don't wanna hear. . . . like that I still love her. My conscious mind does *not* want to believe that, but it keeps nagging at me: What was that you felt when you saw Buffy kissing Angel again? Betrayal? Righteous anger for all the things he did as Angelus?. . . . Jealousy? As much as I want to believe that it was purely the two former, I can't
honestly deny that the latter wasn't there. I can't lie to myself. I love her still, but not in the same way that I used to. She used to be perfect, so perfect. . . . as far as I was concerned, she could do no wrong, not even when she turned me down in favor of Angel. But then came the aftermath of the incident with the Master, the frat party, Angel losing his soul, the death of Ms. Calendar, her running to L.A.. . . . bit by bit the pedestal I had put her on was crumbling. And even though I know it wasn't fair to put her up there in the first place, and I know it's not fair to resent her essential humanity, I can't help the bitterness I feel at seeing that image of her shatter. I suppose what it comes down to is that I'll always love her a little, always care for her, even though it hurts to care and it's easier to be mad.
*Sigh*
I look at the three feminine faces in front of me again. Yeah, I suppose you could say that I love all three of them, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do about it.
But just lying here, confused and frustrated, in the stifling silence of my room thinking it over is a start....I hope.
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