Okay, so I kind of said I wouldn't post this until this weekend, but because I'm really, really bored at work, I decided to just post it. Sorry Grace. Hehe. I hope you guys like it. It's definitely something different for me. And I guess I'm just trying to find my strong writing style.
Anyway, this is an angsty oneshot from Jim's POV. The "what if" Pam didn't really want to date Jim. So, I hope you like it. Onward!
Warning: Some smut, but not too much. :)
He sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and he couldn't stop the tears from falling. What kind of man was he? Letting tears stream down his face like an emotional child? It was a new low, even for him. But he couldn't help it and they just kept falling. He didn't know what had possessed him to do what he had done. All over what? One stupid yogurt cap? He had thrown everything away. Everything: Karen, the promotion, his pride, all of it. Everything. Just gone. Granted, he and Karen never would have made it anyway. He had been kidding himself all along with her. It was all an act to try and cover up his true feelings for someone else. He had let it go too far. He should have broken it off when the branches had merged. Seeing her then had made him realize that he wasn't going to get over her anytime soon. It hadn't been fair to Karen to be in the middle of something she wasn't even aware of. But, even if it had been coming, knowing what he knew now, he would have done it differently. He had just gotten so caught up in the moment and his feelings, that he didn't care who he hurt in the process; even if it was someone he cared about. He might not have loved Karen, but he did care about her. He should have used more tact. Now he was just going to look like an idiot. He had thought that cap and that note had been the answer to his unasked question. He had thought that her confession by the beach had meant something more than what she had said out loud. But, while he sat on the edge of his bed, in a spot she had once sat, and the tears flowed down his cheeks he realized: She had never wanted what he had desired with all his heart. She had only wanted to be his friend.
He had walked out a perfect interview. He knew he was not a great interviewee. He always got nervous and stammered. He never knew how to answer the questions perfectly. He would laugh uneasily, glance around the room and never make eye contact, he'd fumble with his portfolio; he was horrible. It was the main reason he took the job at Dunder-Mifflin in the first place. He had walked into his interview with Michael and had fumbled the whole way through it. He'd made an ass of himself and he knew it. Even Michael looked like a genius compared to him. But Michael, being who he is, loved Jim and hired him on the spot. He'd spent the last three months looking for a job. He needed it, so he took it. But he hated it. He hated everything about that place, but he worked there. The only reason he was even doing well in the interview this time was because he knew David. They had a lot in common. He was nailing the interview. David was as sure to give the job to him as Michael was to say, "That's what she said." And then he'd looked in his portfolio.
"Goddamn it Pam!" He jumped off the bed, his fists clenched and tears staining his reddened face. He started pacing the bedroom. He could see her beautiful face dancing through his memories, taunting him, mocking him. He had never been so irate, especially at someone else. But then he knew, it wasn't about her, it was about him.
He hated himself. He hated himself for sitting here crying. He hated himself for walking out of an interview for a promotion he was sure to get. He hated himself for calling Karen and saying they needed to talk. He hated himself for leaving her at that fountain, crying, like he was now. He hated himself for taking that step and, in front of the cameras, asking Pam to dinner. He hated himself for getting excited when he saw her standing in front of him later that day, dressed in her simple work clothing that had turned him on from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. He hated himself for thinking she looked beautiful. He hated himself for spilling his guts to her one more time. He hated himself for smiling and being happy when he told her how much he loved her. He hated himself for begging and pleading with her to just give him a chance, that they could be more than just friends. He hated himself for misunderstanding, once again, the relationship that they had. He hated himself for getting emotional in front of her and then just letting her walk away; she had deserved to be ridiculed, like he was. But more than anything, he hated himself for the fact that, even though she had turned him down again, he still loved her. God, he still loved her.
For years he had done nothing but imagine what his life would be like if he were with her. He could imagine what their first date would be like: Where they'd go to dinner, what they would talk about, how it would feel to hold hands walking back to the car and being completely happy with complete silence. He would think about how their first kiss would be. He could almost feel how soft her lips were on his. It would be a gentle kiss at first and then gradually they'd crush their lips together, their tongues dancing and teeth scraping, all the years of pent up sexual frustration being released in that simple act. He had imagined what it would be like to make love to her for the first time. He imagined taking of her clothes, one piece at a time, kissing every part of her body. He could see the way she would melt into his arms and press her soft, naked skin to his. He could feel her teeth on his body, her hands covering him, the slickness of sliding into her for the first time. He imagined the first time they had sex. Oh, making love and having sex were two different things, and having sex with her was his favorite day and night dreams. He wanted to rip all her clothes, pieces hanging from her body. He wanted her to scratch her nails down his back and hit him, leaving red welts on his body. He wanted to slam their bodies against a wall, enter her and give them both an orgasm that would shatter their world. And even now, his body was responding to his desires. He had imagined what it would be like to get married to her. He could see how she'd look in her wedding gown, her hair long and curly, and her eyes only on him. He imagined seeing their children grow and move away and becoming grandparents. He could imagine it all.
But, that's not how it was going to be for him. No, no. Instead, he was going to have to look at her everyday, until he could find another job, and be mocked for his stupidity. He was going to have to watch all her familiar mannerisms over and over again, and know they he would never be a part of them again. She had said she hoped they could stay friends. HA! How could he ever be friends with someone so conniving and manipulative? She had made him fall in love with her. She had taunted and teased him for years, encouraging the feelings he had for him. She had made him want to rip her clothes off her with one look, and with another he'd want to get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. She had, purposely, become the woman he was destined to be with, and then she'd ripped his heart out of his chest. She only wanted to be friends.
"FRIENDS?" He screamed out again and balled his fists in a fit of rage. "I'LL SHOW YOU FRIENDS PAM!" Cocking his arm back, he threw his fist into the wall. Immediately he felt all the bones in hand break, but he didn't care. He felt the aggression and energy rip through his body and adrenaline pushed his fist back into the wall again. And again. And again. When he was finished, he looked down at his bloody and broken hand and felt incredible pain. But, he wasn't finished yet. The anger was growing inside him again, and the only way to release it was to destroy it first. He threw out his arms and started knocking things to the floor. The knick knacks on his desk fell to the ground with a crash. He stepped on each piece and smashed it, his face a blur of fury. He strode to his dresser and pulled out every drawer, letting them crash down, breaking the top one when it fell from the others and landed on its side. He grabbed the sheets off his bed and ripped them off. He started shredding them with his bare hands, feeling the pain shoot through his broken one all the way up his arm. It only propelled him to do more. He walked into his bathroom, and pulling things off the shelf, he threw them into the sink and bathtub, getting a feeling of release by hearing them smash, and seeing the glass shatter all over the floor. He was like a man possessed. His eyes were burning and his skin was turning scarlet with intensity.
And just that fast it ended. He stared at himself in the shattered mirror of his bathroom and watched as all feeling left his body. He no longer had any emotion present. He looked at his eyes, dead and watery. He looked at his cheeks, flushed, blood-splattered and streaked with tears. He looked down at his hands, bleeding and broken. He looked at the floor around him, covered in his things, annihilated. And he felt nothing. He walked out of the bathroom and into his room, looking at the mess that was there, and he didn't care. He kicked aside a broken lamp as he made his way to his bare mattress.
Lying down, he stared out the window. It was getting dark outside and he could see the streetlamps coming on just out the window. The stars were starting to come out and he continued to stare without blinking. An unnatural cold swept over him, like when you stand outside in the middle of a blizzard and you can't look into the wind without losing your breath. He welcomed it. He wanted nothing more than to freeze his heart now. He wanted to be protected from getting hurt again. He would never let another woman in. He wanted to be alone. And still he stared.
He didn't know how long he had been staring out the window, lying in a cold bed shivering, but he was finally starting to become weary. Just before he closed his eyes to let sleep the overcome him, her face flashed before his eyes. He knew it wouldn't stop. He'd see her for the rest of his life, knowing that she was the only one he ever wanted.
And knowing that she never wanted him.
Okay, so that's it. What did you think? Please review and tell me, because like I said before, I'm just trying to find what I do best. So, yeah, let me know. And I promise, no more stories until after my test. LoL. Thanks everyone!
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