What You Wanted
Happy fuckin' Valentine's Day.
This is what you wanted, isn't it? A cold, empty apartment with a table set for one, a TV dinner letting off steam, and the TV providing the perfect mood lighting.
Valentine's Day with Tiffani-Amber Thiessen. Oh, boy-exciting.
But this is what you wanted, isn't it?
No excited phone calls, no dreamy plans for a romantic dinner, no surprise bouquets, not even a stupid paper heart with your name scrawled on it. Just undercooked roast beef, mushy corn, mashed potatoes, and the television flickering in the background. No pictures, no kisses, no smiles. Just empty chairs at empty tables.
This has to be what you wanted.
Why else would you push away your friends? Why else would you say, "No, that's okay, I have plans" when they invited you along? Even when he came up to you and said, "Are you sure you don't want to come? We'd love to have you" and you said, "No! I'll be okay."
And all the while, you were screaming inside your head, No! I'm not okay! Don't give up on me! Don't just accept what I say!
Do you remember what he said to you as you stalked away? He called your name, and he wished you a happy Valentine's Day. You didn't say a thing.
All alone on the most romantic night of the year. All alone while he celebrates. All alone while everyone commemorates their love.
This must be what you wanted.
It's no more than what you deserve.
notes: I wrote this after ten o'clock . . . more reasons why I should not be allowed near my computer after a certain time. It's not that I have issues . . . it's that I have serious issues. Anyway, I wrote this to be about Eric, but it can actually be taken from any of the loners' points of view. Also, this is my first PR fic . . . what a happy way to enter the fandom, huh?
Happy Valentine's Day!