ONE SHOT

Inspiration hit me one day so here it is. I was driving home one day and George Michael was playing. I instantly thought of this story.

----------------------------------------------------------

He sat in his basement with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. The heroin mixed with the prescription pain killers were a lethal combination when combined with the depression and rage in his system; he didn't give two shits. (I've had enough of danger and people on the streets. I'm looking out for angels, just trying to find some peace). He had the gun loaded and cocked and was ready to pull the trigger or make a deep cut in his thigh. He debated between bleeding to death and possibly missing and being a vegetable.

He had ruined his life by doing exactly what he'd done five minutes ago. His lifelong dream was shattered because he couldn't say no. He had been "fired" from the only career he'd ever wanted because he got mixed up with the wrong people and the wrong doctors. It's so easy to get prescription medicine when you're a celebrity.

He sat on the ratty old couch and put the gun to his temple. He took a deep breath and had just closed his eyes when he heard someone come down the stairs. When she saw him and the state he was in, she dropped to her knees, tears instantly in her eyes. Their eyes locked and her tears and sobs were silent; he hung his head and shook it back and forth. Of all the fuckin people to catch him, it had to be her.

He had loved her most of his life, hell since the 6th grade she had been the one true occupant of his heart. Sure he had girlfriends and fuck buddies, women of different necessities, but none would ever be her. It pissed him off because on more than one occasion over the years she had let him get close to her, he had known the feel of her mouth on his, the way her body fit to his and just as they'd get to the all important next step, she'd run from him; literally leave town with nothing left for him or of him.

No goodbye, no note, no phone call. It broke him every time and it took months to recover. And by the time he did recover, she'd be back again and he'd be on the same path he had just jumped from. He had finally had enough with everything and everybody. "Now I think it's time, that you let me know, so if you love me, say you love me, but if you don't just let me go..." He whispered.

"I do love you, Jeffy. I love you so much. I need you." She let the tears and sobs control her; she knew the meaning behind his words. He shook his head in disbelief. She loved him like Jenny loved Forrest Gump; as a friend. ('Cos teacher, there are things that I don't want to learn, and the last one I had made me cry). He was her best friend, had been since high school. She was his best friend. He wanted more, he wanted all of her. He wanted to kiss her again, show her how well their bodies fit together, make her see he was her perfect match. But right now, all he wanted was for her to go. He just didn't care. (So I don't want to learn to hold you, touch you, think that you're mine, because it ain't no joy for an uptown boy whose teacher has told him goodbye).

He tapped the gun to his head and heard her whimper. He couldn't and wouldn't look at her. He thought about the days when he worshiped her before she knew who he was. He sat behind her in every class; somehow the gods had smiled on him for the three years before high school and he had every single class with her. Alphabetical order was a great thing. He could sit for eight hours a day within three feet of her smelling the apple scent in her hair. (When you were just a stranger and I was at your feet. I didn't feel the danger, now I feel the heat. That look in your eyes telling me no. So you think that you love me know that you need me…).

He would love to go back to those days before the pressures of adulthood overwhelmed him, before his alleged friends introduced him to drugs, before he shot to stardom, before his beat up body begged for pain killers. He looked deeply at her face, even when she cries she's beautiful. Look at her, why can't she just see how much I love her? Why does she do this? She's my best friend and she breaks my heart every chance she gets. What's worse is she doesn't even know she's doing it. (And teacher there are things that I don't want to learn. Oh the last one I had made me cry).

"No, Jessa. Don't touch me, just turn and go." She stayed on her knees as she went to him, begging with her eyes. "I'm done. I won't listen to you." She placed her hands on his thighs and inched between his legs. Her hands remained as she lay her head on his shoulder and let her nose nuzzle his neck. He choked back his own emotion as he felt her tears on his skin. "Please, Jessa." He still used her nickname and barely got the words out. (So I don't want to learn to hold you, touch you, think that you're mine…)

"I came back this time to tell you something. I know how I've treated you the past few years and it's wrong. I've led you on time and time again. I realized I'm running for a reason, Jeffy. I'm afraid of you." His head shot up as if he couldn't believe she just said that. She gave a soft smile and placed her hand to his cheek. "I'm afraid of you and what you do to me. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for six years." She kissed him gently and took the gun from his hand placing it on the table behind her. He wanted to believe her but he couldn't. (So when you say that you need me, that you'll never leave me, I know you're wrong, you're not that strong…let me go).

He let himself feel her mouth on his, taste her. He let her wrap her arms around him and press her body to him. The things she could do to him. He broke free, stood as he grabbed the gun and walked to the other side of the couch. He rubbed his head to clear her from it. She continued to tell him everything he'd ever wanted to hear, but it was too late. His head was somewhere dark and neither were sure she could pull him back. He wouldn't let her manipulate his emotions either, not this time.

For over an hour they played the cat and mouse game. No words were spoken, she just followed him around the basement, around the house, outside, not letting him have the two seconds it would take to kill himself. Jessica Gellar would not lose him now, she would fight for him; shit she would fight him for him. Six years had been wasted and she wasn't about to give up.

He jumped into the pool hoping that would do it, but she went in after him. They both gasped at the cold water buts he used this opportunity to reiterate her stupidity and tell him how she felt. Her legs went around his waist and her arms tight around his neck. She softly kissed him and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt himself caving to her, felt himself softening to her whispered words, the feel of her skin on his. He placed his forehead on her shoulder and cried. Really cried.

Jeff held her so tight and let out everything he'd been feeling and fighting. He was spent in every way, all he had were sobs, a silent release for the despair in his heart and mind. He needed her and he let it sink in he finally had her. She was here telling him she wasn't leaving again. (I'm so cold, inside, maybe just one more try...)