A./N.: Another one inspired by iLY…I don't know, I thought it was a good episode, but we needed more, you know? And then nothing really was answered in iQ, so here's my story! Timeline goes from the end of iLY through iQ. (If anyone was wondering (yeah, they probably weren't) I do really like reading and writing oneshots. I find that they're more enticing to read—you know you won't be up late, reading 70-something chapters.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the kitchen sink. The song—Say Goodbye—belongs to Katharine McPhee. All characters belong to Dan Schneider.
If I seem distant—
Baby, I am.
Words are like scissors
In your hands.
They'd barely talked, and it'd been a week since they'd 'broken up'—she didn't even know if that was the right word. Given up was probably better. More than a week now, she guessed.
She'd never cared too much about time, though. It passes, she figured. Everything in life did, eventually. Everything good, anyway. She flashed-back to that night, outside the elevator at 10—their breaking up at midnight was something she really, really preferred not to think about—and winced.
And there's no script to follow,
So I just close my eyes.
That way it won't hurt so much
When we say goodbye.
"I love you." She'd cringed inside as he spoke. Not because she didn't feel the same way. Not because she didn't believe him—when it came down to it, he'd never given her a reason to think he'd lie, not about something this important. Because she absolutely and totally was at a loss for words—how do you follow up a declaration of love when you're breaking up? So she did the only thing she'd ever been able to do well—she improvised.
"Love you too."
She hoped that was the right thing to say. She definitely wasn't used to expressing herself, and she definitely wanted to say the right thing. Besides, it was the only thing she'd been thinking that was true.
I feel just like an actress
Up on the stage.
I can't believe
What I'm hearing myself say.
"He speaks Mandarin Chinese?" She'd said, wondering why Carly seemed to go through boyfriends like water. Not that she could talk, she'd reminded herself. She did get dumped, like she knew Carly eventually would. She didn't even get that dignity. She'd just…given up.
"What does that mean?" She'd tried to engage herself in the stupid conversation and pump herself up for the show, but she hadn't been able to do it. She'd winced as the awkward elevator conversation came back into her mind, (it did more often than she admitted to herself), and she'd realized why his—meaningless—conversation with Carly bugged her. He was talking to Carly, like normal friends do. He didn't do that with her anymore.
He only talked at her, now.
I just want to hold you
'Til you know I'm sorry
But I just keep it all inside…
She wanted—she wanted so badly—to start a conversation with him—about anything, it didn't matter. She didn't. She knew that she'd start mocking him—which would lead to an argument, and eventually a beating—until everything was so frustratingly freaking 'normal' again. Either that, or she wouldn't be able to argue with him, even if he provoked her, and he'd figure out that when they agreed to break up and give up that she didn't do either. Not in her heart, anyway. And she knew she couldn't take another 'let's be friends' speech. So she said nothing. She got ready for the show, running through her rough outlines of what she was supposed to say—after all, she improvised three-quarters of the time—trying to block out his voice. Saying anything, she'd figured, would just lead to disaster.
That way it won't hurt so much
When we say goodbye.