Word Count: 2205
Pairing: Josh Ramsay / Carly Rae Jepsen
Rating: PG-13 for swearing.
Warnings: … Swearing…
Summary: When it comes to admitting her feelings to Josh, Carly realizes it’s now or never at the Sour Candy video shoot.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the people mentioned, these events are entirely fictional and this is written for entertainment purposes only.
Note: I wrote this after watching Sour Candy AND its BTS video for the billionth time.
“’Oh, I’m Carly Rae, there’s a hole in my bucket, don’t go out with the boys tonight, it makes me sad and I turn to drinking!’” Josh exclaimed.
I realize it was acting, that we were trying to agitate each other and make the video seem realistic. But that one actually hurt, and I internally winced. I would never make fun of Josh’s songs, even jokingly. Lover Dearest, Skin and Bones, those types of songs were definitely off-limits, of course. But Cross My Heart, All to Myself? I could mock those endlessly.
So I did, throwing out a quick “’Oh, and I’m Josh Ramsay, I want you all to myself’ – he’s a control freak!” It was pathetic, and I knew it the second it came out of my mouth. “Your mom’s a control freak,” he muttered in response, sinking back into the couch dramatically, staying in character. I, however, was already back to spacing out, half-mindedly responding until I realized what he had said, turning my sentence into a cringe-worthy “your mom’s a con- what?” It was even worse than the previous line, and that made me wince as well. Thankfully, Ben yelled out cut, announcing a 20-minute break. We’d been going at this for hours, and it had all been shits and giggles until the incident at hand.
I sighed as I stood up, avoiding eye contact with Josh and telling no one in particular that I’d be right back. We were filming in an actual building, and I had only been into two of the rooms – the “therapist’s office,” and the room where I had leant against the doorway while singing. Despite this, I took off down the hall, searching for somewhere I could sit down in silence and calm down. Preferably a girls’ bathroom. Josh may be an idiot at times, but he wasn’t that stupid… most of the time.
God Carly, way to be such a girl, I thought to myself as I walked down the hall, trying not to get too lost and find a place to go at the same time. Why did that hurt so badly when he mocked my songs?
I didn’t need to ask. I knew. Josh of all people knows what songwriting is about – getting out your emotions so they don’t eat you alive when you can’t express them properly. Songs are like pages in a diary, and when you release them to the world, you’re putting your feelings out there to potentially be scrutinized and made fun of. It’s not easy to see people talking about how shitty your songs are online and not want to go home, curl up in a ball, cry, and swear off writing music for good.
So that’s why it hurt. Still, it was Josh Ramsay. What did I expect? Josh pushed all the boundaries. I was considered a good girl – I always followed the rules, never pushed too far. He was the complete opposite of me, always testing the waters and doing what he wanted to, ignoring the potential consequences. And that was why I was so damn attracted to him, why I fell for him a bit more each day. But I was friend-zoned immediately – that’s what happens when you write a break-up song the first day you meet someone, I guess – and while I was terrible at hiding my feelings, apparently I did it well enough.
I guess that was another reason it hurt. And I wrote Tug of War about him, so hearing him mock me for that was not all too fantastic.
I heard Josh’s voice echo behind me from around a corner. He sounded worried, and that made me feel even more on edge. I took a sharp right, quietly and desperately trying any door, hoping that one would open and I could hide until he went away. However, none were helping me out. Just my luck.
Just as I was cursing yet another door handle for ruining my break, I spotted it out of the corner of my eye. There it was. My one chance. I could hear Josh call my name again, sounding a bit more desperate this time. No no no. I’m not letting this happen today. I walked faster, almost running, until I barreled into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. My escape certainly wasn’t executed as quietly as I had planned, but I had made it, and that was the most important thing at the moment.
I looked at myself in the mirror. If I didn’t have people fixing my make-up every other take, I would look like complete and utter hell. I certainly felt the part, and the only physical aspect that gave it away was the look in my eyes. I heard Josh’s Converse squeak from a ways down the hall, and I realized he was looking for me, trying to find me.
For whatever reason, this broke my heart, and I could tell I was about to start crying. One final look in the mirror, and I was done for.
It wasn’t just the video. It was everything. All the looks I gave him from time to time, the late night texts we exchanged, the songs I wrote about him, the amount of effort I put into looking pretty on days I knew I’d see him… it was all for nothing. Absolutely nothing. His making fun of my music was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.
I started sobbing, choking on the lump in my throat, breaths coming short and heavy. It’s all for nothing. It’s all for absolutely nothing. I couldn’t stop thinking it.
He was right oustide the door now. God dammit. I had to face him sooner or later. But not now, right? I still had 15 minutes to pull myself together. I could put a bandage over this and get through the shoot without seeming too lifeless. I’d probably bawl into the steering wheel all the way home and curl up in a ball with my dogs and a cup of tea as soon as I got home, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was getting through the next three hours and final shots.
He really needed to stop soon, or I was going to cave in. I scoffed in my head. I can’t believe I thought he’d go away. Once again, we were talking about Josh Ramsay. He’d sit for hours before finally having the chance to talk to Chad Kroeger at 604 Records, trying to get Marianas Trench signed. Right now, all he had to wait was 15 short minutes before I’d be forced out of my little safety zone.
“Carly, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, made a joke out of your songs. That was uncalled for and stupid and I know I fucked that up.”
My sobbing had turned into quiet sniffles and a shaking chest since I had heard him speak to me through the door. The lump in my throat sat there, stubborn, but I wasn’t choking on it anymore.
I pushed myself away from the wall and sunk down against the door. I knew he was doing the same, that if the wall were gone, we’d be back to back. Without this inch-wide door, we would be right next to each other. What a scary thought.
“You just don’t get it, Josh.”
“Carly, can you please open the door?”
“No. I can’t. Not now, at least.”
Hesitation. “Why not?”
“Because I can’t let you see me like this.”
“Like what? Carly, tell me if you hate me. If you never want to see me after this shoot. I fucked up, and I know it. Just tell me what the fuck is going on, because I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on with you. It’s hard on me, especially when I know it’s because of something I did.”
This was my moment. I could finally tell him. In this moment of vulnerability for the both of us, I could tell him. He couldn’t ruin it with a joke, couldn’t desensitize the feelings. It could make the rest of the shoot awkward, sure. But I suddenly felt a sense of courage, of boldness, of strength. It was now or never.
“You’re an idiot, Josh.”
“I know I am-“
“No, that’s not the reason why you’re an idiot.” I took a deep breath before finally laying my cards out on the table. Now or never.
“I’m in love with you, and you don’t even know it. Yeah, you mocking my songs upset me. You’re a songwriter, and I know you know how it feels when people poke fun at your music. But what hurts me – not upsets me – is the fact that you mocked my song - even though it was just a little bit of it - which explicitly details exactly how I feel for you, a song you’ve heard a million times. And even though I know you didn’t know it was about you this entire time, that doesn’t change the fact that it hurts.” My voice cracked on the last word, and I bit my lip, trying to keep the sobbing silent. And speaking of silence, Josh still hadn’t said anything. I knew he didn’t feel the same, but nothing can ever prepare you for rejection.
“Just go away. I’ll meet you back out there in about 10 minutes,” I mumbled, my voice raspy from crying.
A brief pause. “Carly, you need to open that door right fucking now. I don’t care about what you look like – you are going to open this goddamned door.” Another pause. “Please.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, almost sounding like a plea.
I needed closure, and Josh sounded like he was ready to give it to me. I stood up and glanced in the mirror, wiping away the black and brown mix of eyeliner and mascara from my face and pushing my hair out of my face. The make-up artist could fix the rest. I unlocked the door, taking a deep breath before I actually opened it.
Josh’s eyes flickered all over my face before landing on my eyes, which had stayed staring up at him the second I opened the door. He was desperately trying to read into my face, when in reality, there was nothing to find. I looked and was drained, sad, tired, and lovesick. There were no secret emotions hiding in the creases of my face. I was raw, open, and underprepared, but I was there.
I’m not sure how it happened, but suddenly Josh’s lips were on mine and his hands had found their way to my waist, his fingers wrapping around and brushing against the small of my back. I tensed, expecting backlash. But as he continued to kiss me – kiss me – I slowly responded, easing into him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
We stayed there for a few more seconds, getting used to each other and making up for lost time. I was the first to break away. Despite the thoughts running throughout my head at the speed of light, I had nothing to say. He was the first to break the silence.
“I always thought I’d be the first to say it.”
“I always thought you’d be the first to reject it.”
He smiled at that, pulling me in for a hug. I nuzzled my head into a spot against his chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you, finally let you know, just… hold you for more than a few seconds.”
“Then why didn’t you do so sooner?” I knew the answer would be the same as mine, but I had to ask anyway.
“Because I would never forgive myself if I let my feelings ruin our friendship. I wanted to tell you, wanted to risk it, but I couldn’t. There was never a right time.”
I sighed, because I knew exactly what he meant. Despite all the time that had passed, there was never a moment, never a sliver of time in which we could look each other in the eyes and say what was really on our minds.
It was ironic that his making fun of my song about him was what caused this moment right here to happen, I thought, as he drew patterns along the small of my back and the sides of my ribs.
“Where does this leave us?” I needed an answer before we went back into the room in a few minutes.
“Well, my name’s Josh Ramsay, and I want you all to myself,” he replied, using my terrible line from earlier.
I smiled. “I think we can work something out.”
He leaned in for another quick kiss, moving up to leave a gentle one on my temple, before he removed his hands from my waist and linked his right in my left. His thumb stroked mine, and we gave each other our first real smiles of the day.
I had never expected this. Then again, Josh Ramsay is a man of many surprises.
We turned and started walking back down the hall to the room, a minute left to spare.
Wow um I got bored and decided to log on here and theres a fic but really no we’re not around anymore. I’ll post the fic but then im gone again
Who’s excited for the Grammys!?!?!?!
I’m not too excited about what Josh is wearing, but Carly looks beautiful. Personally, I think they’ve got this in the bag ;)
if you leave that blog, tana, i promise you, i will find you and i will dick punch you dont let the blog d i e luv u
THERE IS NOTHING TO DO OVER HERE
Sometimes I consider tagging more Justin Beiber hate just so something happens. It’s funny watching them try to insult me.
I wonder if I could connect this blog to my main blog…I’d be on here more often that way