Title: Sometimes
Author: bones4life
A/N: So, this is more vague than I intended it to be. Actually, this could be a Huddy oneshot, but you guys know which flag I wave.
There are moments, mostly when she's by herself, that she wonders about a life without him. They slide in, unwanted, usually when she lets her guard down. Like now. She sits on the sofa, her right elbow resting on the arm, a medical journal in her lap. Her gaze settles on the phone, noting the time. It's past seven in the evening, and she hasn't seen him all day.
She's waiting. She always has to wait. Sometimes, she doesn't want to.
It always surrounds them, together or apart. There are times when it bothers her, mostly because she needs the reassurance that he still wants her. If she were a less damaged person, she would be fine when they didn't speak. Like now. They sit in the same room, separated by a mere ten feet and one chair. He's finally offered a 'hey,' and on its own would be fine, except that today she wants more.
There's silence. There always is. Sometimes, she wishes there wasn't.
Being with him, is far from easy. Eating alone, she peruses the new article on Lupus, not knowing her eyebrow is arched with skepticism. His voice comes from nowhere. Her glasses slip down her nose just a touch more as she looks up. Carelessly, his tray is opposite hers, carrying a Reuben and potato chips. Some comment about Lupus makes her smile, unwittingly. Days come and go when they're almost normal. Like now. It's enough to keep her hanging on for another stretch of time.
It's hard. It always will be. Sometimes, she can forget that.
Anyone seeing them together, would wonder why she was with him. He often wonders it himself. That's why there's a separation. The other shoe is bound to drop any moment, and he won't be caught in a blindsided movement. He watches it change her, and surprisingly, finds himself proud. She holds tough, not budging 2.5 centimeters. Like now. They walk through the corridor, on their way to the elevator, when he suddenly feels her fingers wrap around his own. She doesn't look at him, and he doesn't let go.
Here's distance. Haunting, it always stays. Sometimes, he wants less of it.
No one stays long enough. He's learned this the hard way. Bitter words leave his tongue as she stands in front of him with hands on thing hips. He can see the dark circles, the pale skin, and the bagginess of her once well fit clothes. He's angry, partly because she'd spilled his pills, partly because he's realizing how much he's starting to depend on her. His mind can only steel himself for the inevitable. Like now. The tension is thick enough to smell, and he knows he's finally won.
He's afraid. He always hides it. Sometimes, he's grateful for it.
Nothing can stay the same. He tries to stay away from her, but finds himself closer to her more often than not. Punishment, has always been his forte. Misery, is a nice companion. Without her, he has both, he has himself. Somewhere, it changed. That's not alright. Like now. The room no longer holds her body, though her scent remains, caught in a time loop where he has to relive her memory every day. It bothers him. What bothers him more, is that the pain is welcome.
People hurt. Inflictions always heal. Sometimes, he thinks he's had enough.
They speak, mostly in greetings and closings. They're shadowed, holding the weight of something they won't name because the time has passed. She can smile at him, but the laugh she once shared with him, is lost. He teases her, though he'll never satisfy the need to touch her. Like now.
Her figure, finally gaining back precious weight, beckons to him. She turns, her name lingering in the air by some resident before she sees the man with cane. The smile she gives him, is half-hearted. It's all she can give him, before moving on with her work.
He rubs his forehead softly before turning away. The view is one he never thought would be too little for him. Patients, as idiotic as they were, had always been necessary. The puzzle, however simple, was needed. Like now. He wants the puzzle to occupy his thoughts, but what he wants more is to not be alone. Just for a moment.
They walk together to their vehicles, a sight, rare and awkward. The cold nips at their tired faces as they glance at each other. They're fine. They're working too hard to replace something not completely lost. She breaks herself away, not willing to be drawn back in. He lets her go, sure that he's right again.
Everybody lies. It isn't always so bad. Sometimes, they actually believe it.