Copyright October 3, 2002 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: G
Pairing: Darren Hayes/Daniel Jones
Disclaimer: The men who comprised Savage Garden are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Dedication: This slashfic is for the Savage Garden slashers, as most of my RPS is, but this one I truly never would have written if it weren't for them.
Wherein Daniel thinks about Darren, himself, and Darren some more.
Notice: Daniel. Flip vowels. Denial.
That was especially true when your own behavior was causing the problem.
Had he seen it coming? Had he known? Maybe he'd had the delusion, the arrogance, to assume that their situation, imperfect as it was, would remain as it had been. When the change had come, the break - - the break in their working relationship, the break in their friendship, the break in his heart - - it had felt like a punch to the gut without warning. No warning. But he'd had warning; there had been plenty of warning. He'd known. But he hadn't stopped it. Because he'd told himself that it couldn't be true, that it never could happen.
He'd been in denial.
It was his fault. He knew that it was his fault. He'd never been what Darren needed. Darren was a true people person to the core. People, relationships, interactions, togetherness, Darren thrived on those things. But Daniel needed his solitude. Daniel needed his space.
Darren had tried, really tried, to get his time. Keep his attention. And they'd started out at an incredible place, living together and working together and creating together, the two of them. And it worked, in every way. It gave them an amazing personal connection, it grew music that they never could have written without each other, and it made them successful.
Once the success came, the fame came. Once the fame came, the people came, friends and fans and parties and press.
It had been easy from the start for Darren to be in the spotlight. He was the singer. He was the people person. He was beautiful to look at, beautiful to talk to. Beautiful to listen to, in conversation; and absolutely ungodly to listen to, when he sang. Darren's voice was so different and so pure it was unearthly. Daniel had never been able to hear Darren sing without being awed, and he heard Darren sing more than anyone, every day.
When the spotlight came, Darren stepped into it, and Daniel stepped out of it. Darren stepped forward, and Daniel stepped back.
He'd meant to step back from the limelight.
He'd never meant to step back from Darren.
But he had.
Darren had been the first to try to understand, the first to make excuses for him. Even confused and hurt, Darren tried to give him space, respected his wishes. Darren had always been selfless, where Daniel was concerned.
Darren was great at relationships, give-and-take.
Looking back on it now, Daniel had been good at "take" and not very good at "give." Especially where Darren was concerned.
He'd always told himself that it didn't matter, that it didn't make a difference. They were still friends. They still had a creative connection that couldn't be fathomed. His music, Darren's words, the way those two halves came together seamlessly, as though they were meant to be... Wasn't it only natural that if they connected that well musically, that their personal connection had to be extreme? Two people who fit that well when they put forth their hearts and souls into what they loved, couldn't walk away from that.
Darren had walked away from it. Walked away from him.
He'd always told himself that Darren had what Darren wanted. Darren had music, friends, a great life, a good heart. Darren had everything anyone could want, personally and professionally and creatively and spiritually. And he was always around, if Darren wanted him.
They'd written Affirmation from opposite ends of the earth. He'd told himself that the experience only proved how close they'd always be, even if they were apart.
But it didn't matter to Darren how close they were in some intangible way if they never talked, never saw each other, never shared anything but music. Darren didn't operate that way, and never had. Darren needed face time, together time, time to nurture and connect. Daniel knew that, but he'd tried to tell himself that it was okay, that Darren knew and understood what he meant to say even if he didn't say it.
He'd never said any of it. He'd never told Darren how much their partnership meant to him. He'd never told Darren how important Darren's smile was to his own happiness.
It had been easy to immerse himself in his music, to spend his time writing and working, and tell himself that he'd talk to Darren later, that he'd go hang out with Darren tomorrow, that Darren was just as happy without him. That he had all of the time in the world to make up for the time he was losing today.
He didn't have any time anymore. He couldn't take off his headphones and go see Darren even if he wanted to. No matter how badly he wanted to.
It had gone on for too long. He'd always said to himself that yes, they'd become distant, but they were very different people, and Darren understood that, and they could still work together onstage, and their music would only be improved by the time he spent working.
Their music was gone. They didn't have music anymore, not together.
After Affirmation, they'd parted ways again. He'd worked, waiting for Darren to call, to write, to send him an e-mail message with too much enthusiasm, making him smile, making him wish that they were in the same room again.
That message never came.
It was for the best, everyone said. Darren had been meant for the stage, and Daniel hadn't. It made more sense this way. Daniel could commit himself entirely to writing now. It was for the best.
Daniel had stopped lying to himself.
It wasn't for the best.
He'd had the best. And he'd neglected it, and lied to himself that he wasn't doing irreparable damage to it, and now it was gone.
It was hard to realize that the best thing that had ever happened was over.
It was hard to know that the best time of his life was past.
It was easy to lie to yourself.