AN: Okay, so I haven't written fanfiction in a while, so I may be a little rusty. Plus, this is my first attempt at writing for "The Office." Bear with me and try not to be too disappointed! Anyway, this story was inspired by the song "Trouble Sleeping" by Corinne Bailey Rae. I highly suggest listening to it as it's full of reminders of Pam/Jam. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: As though you all haven't read variations of this many, many times, I do not own "The Office."
It's late and I'm feeling so tired
Having trouble sleeping
This contant compromise
Between thinking and breathing
Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
Won't say I'm falling in love.
"Trouble Sleeping" by Corinne Bailey Rae
Her walls really need to be painted. She hates this color (if it can be called such a thing) and always has. White. Off-white, actually. Horrid color; it has absolutely no business surrounding her bedroom, a place where she should be able to rest and not obsess over the starkness she now associates with this room. Really, the whole house has this illness, this lack of any comforting traits. Roy refuses to spend a weekend painting and she really can't stand the thought of taking on the project alone.
To be perfectly honest though, her ire over her walls is not why it is 2:47 a.m. and she has yet to sleep. It is simply a way to push the true reason to the back of her mind. She can't let herself have these thoughts as he breathes heavily, sometimes snoring, on the complete opposite side of the bed; he always leaves a considerable space between the two of them.
Her eyes are heavy and she's starting to get slightly dizzy now, but her mind won't still for the amount of time it takes for her to truly shut down. Every part of her body tells her sleep is necessary for her to function and she needs to accept that and act on it, except the two parts she's been angry with lately. There's a war occurring inside her and she feels trapped in the middle, being persuaded by each side's argument before the other brings up an equally valid point. It's like she's listening to a never-ending debate, as well-researched as those of the most experienced politicians. The two sides are even using manipulating methods to achieve the win.
Her mind's best weapons are guilt, loyalty, fear, and logic. It's preferred playing court is the home in which she so resents the paint. Usually at nights it is easy for her to believe everything it's telling her: how Roy has kept her sheltered, provided security, continuity, and is sleeping right next to her so she must be betraying him by even considering the other argument. She has to accept all these points as indisputable fact. She turns (as she has multiple times throughout this night) ready to put it all behind her and finally declare her brain the victor.
She's incapable of doing so however, as her heart has begun to speak. It too lists all the points she's heard before: the glances to his desk, her desire for lunch to arrive, hoping he gets a craving for a jellybean, and the feeling of complete comfort yet exhilaration when he's near. Needless to say, this side's turf is the office.
No more! I can't take it. I won't. Just leave me alone, both of you!
She hopes this time it works, that the voices end. She sighs softly; they never do. Constantly she's trying, praying, she can just be content, that she'll listen to logic and not…the other option.
She faces her fiancée instead of the eye-sore that is her wall and hopes to receive some sort of finality of feeling by seeing his back. That never works either.
Fine, she thinks. I don't need to sleep anyway, I've gone without it before.
She stands up gently, not wishing to rouse an uninterested question of why she's getting out of bed. She succeeds, puts on her slippers, and treks to her kitchen for some tea. As she reaches the cabinet to get out a bag she notices the green tea pot on the table where she had carefully placed it after returning from work. She now realizes why she's having so much more trouble than usual. Shaking her head with a slight smile, she removes the top and glances inside, forgetting the reason she came. Rifling through the items inside, she considers how much thought had been put into the gift, a whole three years of memories sorted through to choose those that would fit in his gift.
The voice begins to grow again. She pushes it away. She knows all the facts, has heard them thousands of times repeated at an annoyingly consistent rate. Of course, she hadn't noticed the side that didn't concern Roy until recently. There had been no harm in repeating Roy's positive qualities until the new side had started to grow louder. Now she knew that by doing this she was actually providing answers to all her unacknowledged questions of her happiness and feelings toward…different aspects of her life. She still tried to keep the other voice out and just hear the first, but it was becoming more and more difficult. That scared her.
Granted, she would never admit any of this. She barely did to herself. Yet she knew something was changing. And rapidly. Suddenly she couldn't coerce her unwanted pieces of reality back to their locked drawers. Somehow the keys had sprung to life and opened everything she had tried to keep hidden, even from herself. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but she had the feeling that soon she would need to put one of the sides to rest permanently.
The New Year felt ominous this December, not hopeful as it should. More like filled with…dread and…fear. All-consuming fear that something had to change, and that she had to be the one to change it.
She shuddered before walking back to her room of threatening off-white paint to contemplate what she would change it to given the chance.
A certain instantly recognizable shade of green immediately came to mind. With that issue settled, she fell asleep for at least the next few hours.
By the way, reviews are pretty much my sustenance. You wouldn't want to be the cause of my starvation, would you?