AN: This is my first Psych story but I do hope to write more. I haven't decided if I want this to be a one-shot or a multi-chapter so it could turn into something more than a late night plot bunny.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych no matter how many visions I get saying I do.
In Santa Barbara, at a very popular bar, a detective sat drowning his sorrows and contemplating the world.
His thoughts eventually turned to what lead him to the bar, what lead him to need the numbing effects of alcohol. The events were forgotten for the moment, but the feelings were at the forefront.
Everyone sees me as a jerk, the man thought sullenly.
If anyone ever tries to get close I shove them away with my harsh words and in-sensitivities. No one understands why, they just observe it and keep away.
He took a swig of beer from the bottle he had just barely started nursing.
My partner has it worse. She is forced to work with me, even with my faults. But I'm tired of getting hurt every time I get close to someone.
I'm tired of being left with no one to pick up the pieces but myself.
He briefly thought of his failed marriage before continuing with his original thoughts.
I keep my distance from others. I keep them at arms length because if I start to care it will only hurt worse.
Another gulp of beer.
So, no matter how many times Shawn and Gus joke about me and my arrogant or mean actions, I will still do them if only as a means of not to get hurt.
The events of the week were bursting at the seams of his mind to be remembered. But all he wanted to do was forget.
It's always stereotyped that men don't get hurt, only the women do, but we too have hearts trampled on and our beings used.
Some person walked up and sat next to him at the bar. Maybe if he wasn't so drunk he would have recognized the guy.
It's funny how if you asked anybody who knew me if I was hurting they would say no. They never notice, and they never will.
The guy was talking to him now but all he was hearing was muffled sounds.
No one can get close enough to recognize the signs, I hide them too well. Sometimes I wish they would notice, just once.
"Lassie."
I need to be told I matter too sometimes.
But they won't notice and I won't hint. I'll just keep my distance so that them not noticing won't hurt so much. Because it's my defensive mechanism.
Just like Shawn uses jokes, I use my harsh and cold exterior to protect myself; to distance myself.
"Lassie!" The guy shouted.
He was too tired to care and the detective's eyes slid shut.
Please Review :)
So, one-shot or multi? It's up to you (and my muse).