Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13. I'm afraid if I did you might shortly find me dead in one of the aisles holding/wearing an aritfact XD
Author's Note: This is by far the shortest story I've ever bothered to publish. I've got some other pretty short ones, but none this short! I'm rather hypocritical for being a person who automatically sees a story with a low word count and assumes it's not well written. Shame be to me, I know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let's see if someone can give a review longer than the story itself XD (not too difficult a feat, I fear, haha)
He's Angry Now
He's angry now. She can see it in his eyes. Once. He could take that. Twice. It hurt a little, but no damage done. Three times. He's becoming irritable toward himself and maybe slightly discouraged. But now, this time, he's angry. She can't take it back.
She lied too. He had approached her once more, pleading with her that if she had even the smallest inclination of feeling toward him that she might listen to it. She refused her final chance.
She's guilty now. She can't even sleep. He hasn't been back in three days. Everyone is worried. Claudia is lonely. Leena is stressed. Artie is angry too; though a different breed of angry. Artie's angry is misunderstood and misleading. He is worried sick.
Pete's eyes were so pained; she couldn't bear to recall the moment. Those dark, pleading eyes bore into her memory forever.
"Myka, just listen—"
"Pete, don't—"
Don't. Won't. Can't. She doesn't even know how she was able to reject him so firmly. Every word from her mouth was a lie; an excuse. If only he knew the daily struggle and hurt she lived with because of every lie she had ever told him.
Why. Please. Listen. His vocabulary doesn't consist of anything new. Each time was the same. The same approach, attack, and kill. She can't take that cycle of a beat down any more.
It's raining and she sits on the porch, her curls matted against her head. She doesn't even feel it. A car drives up and Pete steps out. Her pale eyes follow him up the path until he stands, drenched as she, directly before her. Dark, angry, still-pleading eyes delve into her.
"Give me one good reason."
Her heart skips a beat. The only way she can tell the tears from the rain is the warmth they retain as they run down her cheeks.
"I don't love you."
She's lying now.