A/N 1: I felt the strong need to write something after Halt-Wit and the smoking hot kiss. Please review because I really like reading them.
You could handle the yelling and the lectures. The worst part for you was the disappointed looks. The ones that came when people were tired of you and simply gave up because they didn't have the energy to yell or make up some stupid lecture about life. They would just look at you and you would know that they were done being a part of your life. Those looks were coming more often these days.
But you had grown accustomed to them early in life thanks to your dear old dad. That man was a bastard. You weren't even close to being like him even though people called you one all the time. The one person you hadn't grown accustomed to looking at you that way was Cameron. She really knew how to pile on the guilt in those looks she shot you for a week straight after the whole brain cancer fiasco.
Every time she looked at you that way you couldn't help but imagine what her lips tasted like. The entire scene had haunted your dreams every night. The smell and the feel would overwhelm you and you would wake up in a sweat. Then finally you broke down on Saturday after not seeing her for a day.
On the car drive over to her place you began to sweat and your stomach was tied up in knots so bad that you wanted to throw-up in the passenger seat. You had to confront this because you had barely eaten anything the entire week. Every time you tried to eat you realized that you were sick to your stomach and ended up throwing most of the food in the trash.
Once you got there, you were glad that it was still cold outside because it made you stop sweating and calmed your stomach. You stood outside her building thinking everything over. You finally pushed off the curb and made your way inside. You jumped on the elevator that took you to her floor and you contemplated not doing this at all. The walk down her hallway was too long for you and you almost turned back because you were second guessing yourself so badly. You've already walked away once this week when you almost went into the restaurant. But you didn't have enough courage or motivation to go through with the act that day.
When you finally reached her door, you were sweating again and the knots have returned. The feeling was painful and you wished that Vicodin could take away the ache in your heart. But you know it won't. You know the solution is to confront this head on, no matter how much you hate emotions and human connections. You've come to realize that humans need each other. Even if they don't want it, their bodies will crave the touch of another.
Your knock on the door is weak and you contribute it to your lack of sleep. The kiss replayed like a scratched DVD in mind. On top of that, Cameron's look of disgust and disappoint floated above you and haunted you every night. All you've done this week was toss and turn and look at the clock which ticked by with no awareness of you.
You hear shuffling and someone scurrying about in the living room. She pulls open the door and looks disheveled. She looks like she just finished having sex. That's when realize that she did just finish having sex because you hear someone else scurrying away. She looks at you with a stunned expression because she never expected you to show up at her front door.
In that single moment you come to the conclusion that the kiss meant nothing and that you look weak. The kiss was fake on her part and that you let go for too long. That it's time to turn tail and run for the hills.
She hasn't said anything and you're already half-way down the hall when she shouts your name. But you ignore it. If she wants something she'll come and get it. She's done that before with no trouble. You keep walking to the elevator and your walk is even and strong because you know that you can't be weak in this moment. Or any other moment after.
It wasn't like you expected her to wait for you. You certainly hadn't. You at least wanted her to wait this week. For some reason, you needed her to be yours this week and she wasn't. You decided that when you see her at work, it's your turn to give her that disappointed look. You already know who was in that room with her and you know that he's shallow enough to have sex with her without any strings. You aren't. You hurt her when you told her those awful things but you didn't hurt her as badly as you would have in the long run. You consider it a self sacrificing move on your part even if she didn't see it that way.
You're back at your car and it's still cold out. The car is cold inside and you drive the entire way home without the heat on. You've determine that you'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. That way you'll know that you're alive.
You arrive home and promptly slam the door to your car as hard as you can. The walk is slow and painful and you're actually enjoying the feel of the burn in your leg. You aren't going to pop Vicodin or drink scotch tonight. You'll lie in bed and let the pain wash over you like water.
You slam the front door and you hear the answering machine turn on. You can hear Cameron's voice on the speaker and she's yelling at you over the phone. You smile because you aren't going to answer and you won't answer the door if she comes over. You're going to let her suffer this time. You've done enough this week to share the pain with twenty people. She gets done yelling and hangs up the phone. You unplug the phone that way she can't wake you up by calling over and over.
You reach your room and you actually feel tired for once. You remove your clothes to put on some pajama pants and then crawl into bed. The blankets feel good against your skin for the first time in a week. Your eyelids are heavy and you feel the tug of sleep pulling you down. That's when you hear someone at your door. A smile graces your lips and sleep finally takes you over.
Right before sleep has conquered your mind, you think about how fun Monday morning is going to be.
A/N 2: Should I continue? I had two versions in my head but I felt like going this way because of the spoilers I read. If I continue, it wouldn't be the other version. It would be about what happened on Monday.