Author's Note: This LWD story is a bit darker and sadder than any other story that I've written, but it's not very depressing...just a bit of a watery-eye, not a tear jerker. XOXO Love all my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Uh huh, whatever. Now lets get to the story.

Sometimes I wonder if people can hear me at night.

It's hard to beleive this house was build in the late '70's, the way it is now and everything. But apparently it was a trend to have thin walls. It scares the crap out of me, thinking that someone could possibly hear me, hear my secret in the late hours of the night.

Then there are times that I want someone to hear me, possibly a certain someone that starts with Der- and ends with -ek. But he already admitted that he can't stand girls crying, so I try my best to scratch out that possibility.

It's one thing to have a crush, and another to be in love. I think my situation is the latter, only much deeper, much purer, much more. Crushes don't make you feel this way. It can't make you cry at night. That takes love, something I'm drenched in 24 7.

I wish that I could fall asleep happy. I wish I didn't cry myself to sleep.

I stir my cereal with my spoon, not hungry. The food din't even look apatizing in the box. Why should it change when drenched in white liquid? Now it just looks revolting. I sigh. If I didn't eat soon, I'd throw myself into an eating disorder.

I hear footsteps as I choke myself with my breakfast. Yeah, it really was revolting, but I forced myself to swallow. An eating disorder wouldn't be very appeasing.

My heart speeds up, and birds flutter around in my stomach.

It's you.

In just pajama shorts and thin white t-shirt, you still manage to glow. You have your game face on, and I know you're about to try to do something to irritate me- keyword try. You couldn't irritate me if your life depended on it. I'm too much in love.

"Mmmm, breakfast. Thanks, Case," Derek says to me, and grabs my bowl.

I have no intent to grab it back, and/or yell my famous "De-rek!" call of irritation. That call left my lips a long time ago. I'm too dazed at how close he is to do anything but stare at the table and bite my lower-lip.

He sits down across from me and starts mixing the Cheerios with the spoon, waiting for me to do something, anything. I knew he wouldn't eat it. It was just an act of agitation. Too bad he lost.

Seconds passed, and it finally dawns on him that I have no rebuttle to his action. He sighs, and throws down the spoon in frustration, making me jump a bit.

It's official- I'm a wreck.

He throws up his hands in dispair, making them land on the table with such a loud slam, me and the cereal jumped.

"What is your problem? I snatch the remote, you get all nervous and go upstairs. I call you names, you don't say anything. I lie, I steal, I practically bully you, and this is what you return. What the hell?"

I sigh, and conjure up any spare feeling of hate and anger. Unfortunately, there's none, so I have to just wing it.

I look him straight in the eye, and give him what I've got...even though it's not much at all.

"For your information, We're both about to be Juniors in a couple of months, so don't you think it's time to grow up and act our age? I refuse to be childish."

Ugh, lame.

He shakes his head and narrows his gorgeous brown eyes into slits. "That's not it, Casey, that is not it," he cries, pointing at me accusingly. You're playing with me, Casey. You're- you're playing with my mind. Something's up with you, and I'm going to find out!" He snickers a bit crazily, slides my bowl back to me, and leaves the kitchen.

If only he knew.

I always knew I wasn't the best person to cover up my tracks, or hide what I'm feeling. I get caught. I always get caugh. But this was one of those situations, that you get caught and die, or you keep it a secret. I'm working on the latter, but apparently it's not going so well.

I recollect the way he looked, angry, but still incredibly beautiful. I could even smell his morning shower hanging around him when he grabbed my bowl, and I swear, he softly brushed my shoulder as he was theiving my bowl. I have a feeling I'm going to cry even longer tonight.

I slide out of my chair, thinking about taking a picture of the bowl and labling it, 'Derek Touched This!!!!'

Nah, that's for crushes. What I have is so much deeper.

My heart is beating so much, it's about to grow wings and fly away. Derek casually flips through the channels after have stolen the remote from me. Of course, I did nothing, earning me a, 'You're a Freak,' look from the guy I loved, ripping me apart. I'd pay a million dollars to see him smile, but of course, he'd rip me off by taking the money and running without even throwing me a grin.

I was that much unloved.

I focus more on him then the blaring, obnoxious TV. His features are focused on the screen, concentrating and gorgeous, the image of a poster child. I had changed my image a year ago- more makeup, curly, longer hair, different clothing. But unlucky me, he came to school that same day, looking a million times more gorgeous with a new cut, new threads, and a whole new swagger all the same. I looked like roadkill compared to him, even though I got a compliment from Emily.

During a commercial, Derek feels eyes on him, and looks my direction. He gives me a strange look, making me blush. When he stares at me, I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world, and sometimes I feel like I should be ashamed.

"What?" he questiones me in a very unfriendly way.

It takes me a lot of effort, but I tear my eyes away from his stunning face, and onto the screen. "Nothing...nothing," I mumble, feeling like the annoying step-sister he always potrays me to be.

He turns off the TV with an impatient, annoyed click of the remote, and throws it down. Fearfully, I keep my eyes on the blackened screen.

"Casey, what is your problem?" His voice comes out softer, less harsh then expected.

'Why, I love you, of course,' I think to myself.

"Nothing," I mumble dryly. My throat begins to close, and panic covers me like a cloak. My heart was ready to take flight again.

"No, not nothing. Something. What is it?"

"Nothing, Derek, geez."

He rolls his eyes, obviously irritated. I have to get out of here quickly.

"Why are you always pestering me? Why can't you just back off? I've got nothing to hide!" I say quickly, making an escape for the stairs.

"Casey..." he begins, but I am already on the second floor.

I can feel him from below me. He gives of frustration, and I wanted to kill myself for making him feel that way. I would give my life for his, my happiness for his, my world for his. Again, I would pay a million dollars to see him smile.

I run to my room, eager to be alone, but still hoping for his presence. He drove me crazy, the way he was. I could write a book about him and never finish. I could write a trilogy on my feelings for him, and never get past the first book.

But he didn't know that. He never would.

I wrote this forever and a day ago. What do you think? It's not very good, because it's a younger me. Should I continue, or is it done? EVERYONE WHO REVIEWS GET A FREE PICTURE OF A CEREAL BOWL LABLED 'DEREK TOUCHED THIS!!!!'