A/N Okay so this is the first Chlerek prompt that I tried. I decided to make it somewhat angst. The next one will be fluff :) Enjoy!

Prompt #72. Pretense

Chloe grinned and scooted over a little as Derek's large figure filled the doorway, a bowl of popcorn in his hand. She ignored the whispers that snaked all around her, pretended not to see the little boy through the window, playing in the street as cars drove through him.

Derek smiled at her-still the petite, beautiful woman he'd married, despite what anyone said- and took the spot next to her. He paid no attention to the emptiness in her eyes, in her smile, desperately hoping his writhing muscles and burning fever didn't distract her from the movie. He tried to pretend it wasn't a wasted wish, tried to pretend that distracting her was still possible.

Chloe shivered a little as the air chilled slightly, glancing around for the ghost that would almost definitely follow. Derek stiffened beside her, scanning the room too, as though he would be able to see if anything was there. His eye caught on the slightly open window beside the front door, and he nudged her quietly, gesturing towards it. She relaxed a little, embarrassed that she was so...paranoid. She told herself she would've done the same thing ten years ago, told herself that nothing changed.

A door slammed shut in the half-finished movie, the one that both of them had long since forgotten. Chloe jumped, tugging her knees to her chest and whimpering slightly. Derek snarled and got to his feet, momentarily blinded by pure panic and rage. Both of them flushed slightly when they realised where the noise came from. They told themselves that it was a normal reaction. They would've done the same ten years ago.

As Derek sat back down and Chloe slowly lowered her feet, they silently agreed to watch the movie like they were supposed to. But Derek's amplified hearing was irritated by the sound of the TV as it boomed through his eardrums, his upcoming Change sending his senses out of whack. Chloe struggled to hear the lines through the voices in her head. It was frustrating, but neither of them said a word. Friday was movie night. Friday would always be movie night.

By the time the credits were rolling, Chloe's head was pounding, both sides of the veil blending into one world. She couldn't tell which side she was supposed to be on. Derek was on the verge of Changing right then and there. As soon as the first line of credits showed up, he tore out of the room, breath coming fast, ripping off his clothes even as he ran out the back door. Chloe never came with him anymore.

As he crouched in the clearing, picturing his wife- his mate- rocking from side to side like she usually did when she wasn't lucid, his pretense shattered. It always did once he had a moment away from all of it. They were nothing like they used to be. They were broken. Dammit, they were beyond broken, and it frustrated him so much. Simon and Tori were fine. They led perfectly normal lives with their spouses. They controlled their powers and they were happy. Happy. Derek couldn't remember the last time he was happy. No, that wasn't true. He could remember exactly when he was last happy. Before Chloe started slipping. Way back when they could watch a movie and tell you what it was about. And now she'd engaged herself in this dream- this fantasy that none of it had changed. What could he do, really, but play along?

Derek left the forest early the next morning. Chloe came to the door to greet him, dressed in her pajamas. Her flat hair told him she hadn't slept. Still, she smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He rested his face in the crook of her tiny neck, breathing in her scent. Her scent hadn't changed that much, but even that part of her was tainted with death. He ignored it and pulled back, smiling. Telling himself he was wrong; her scent hadn't changed at all. After all, Chloe had always been a necromancer, right? As she took his hand and led him up the stairs, guilt tugged at him. Grief tugged at him. He couldn't go on living like this forever. He knew that. But the alternative – a life without Chloe- wasn't even a conceivable idea. She was his mate, the one thing he could never live without. Her happiness made him happy. So if ignoring her sunken cheek bones and distracted manner meant she could smile? If ignoring the fact that she sometimes talked to herself- sometimes woke up screaming with corpses crawling on their bed - meant that she had a shot of at least pretending to be happy? He would do it without blinking. So when she turned back around, he smiled at her, opened the door to their bedroom and pretended he didn't notice that her gaze was caught on something over his shoulder.

A/N Hope you guys enjoyed that! I've had it ready for a while now, but I haven't gotten around to publishing it. Sorry if anything's off about it...feel free to review! :) Thanks for reading.