If I Only Had A Heart
She didn't know what to think as she stood, alone, on the balcony that over looked the ocean water. Holding herself together as the pain threatened to rip her apart, she watched the waves crash against the rocky sea floor. The sand disappeared slowly as the waves ate their way up the beach. The slight smile on her face as she let go to grab the rail, the cool iron rubbing against the sore joints of her fingers that had been clenched across herself for so long, was enough to remind her that she was fine now.
Just fine.
And she wasn't thinking about that night.
Or that next day.
Or what tomorrow would hold.
Because she was fine; just fine.
I fell asleep last night,
But I woke up too late.
And everything I loved,
I begin to hate.
He watched the sleeping brunette as she turned slightly in her position on the bed. The straps of his blue suitcase cut into his shoulder, but he wanted just one last mental snapshot of this girl, his girl, before he hopped on a plane that would take him across the country. Her slight breathing distracted him and he removed a curl that was tickling her chin from her cheek.
The coolness of her breath surprised him and he brought the blanket up closer to her. They had fallen asleep late and he couldn't bear to wake her up now, even with him leaving. All the talks from the past few months, which passed like days in his eyes, came rushing back to him. The last thing that stuck out for him was the fact that in the early days she had been the skeptic. She was an actress, so it was only natural. But maybe across the country was really farther than just down the hall. Maybe she had been right.
So he left a note, all joking aside, that she was going to hate, but he felt that it was the only way.
When she awoke to an empty bed and a cold chill running up her spine, she glanced at the closed curtains and felt the rough paper against her cheek. Pushing herself up onto her elbows she glanced at the clock quickly, sitting up bolt straight when she realized the time. Clutching the paper between her hands, she read feverishly.
And at the end of the line, signed with the messy scrawl of the blonde haired singer, was her heart; handed back to her in the form of a letter.
All joking aside, she did, at that moment, hate him.
I know I sound repetitive,
Cus' I'm repeating myself.
I'm not competitive,
I want you all by yourself.
It wasn't the tall, slightly foolish brunette, the tan-skinned funny boy, the genius hiding behind spiked hair and a breathless smile that made her heart speed up, her palms sweat, her hands shake. Even on the first day she had known that, while a crush on the chocolate eyes of the genius had formed in her mind, her heart had been stolen by the raised eyebrow of the blue-eyed blonde.
He was friendly, of course; then again they all were. And when she needed to run lines, or just needed to take out her pent up aggression from not landing the job, or not being good enough, he was always there. He never complained and he never told her to stop. He included her in their foolish activities that were always sure to back fire.
But he never had to fight for her.
When she was rejected time and time again, not only by casting directors but by his own friend, he was there by her side. She had cried on his shoulder. And when it came down to that one moment, late one night with the moonlight reflecting off the pool and her eyes glistening with tears, when she had kissed him, maybe he didn't have to fight for her.
They were awkward at first. How did friendly acquaintances become something more? It was all teeth and fumbling hands until they finally got it right. And after that it was easy. Because though they were always going to be the brunette actress and the blonde hockey player, there was something else there.
And that alone,
Is just the problem.
I've got these woes;
I just can't solve them.
When she realized that eventually he would leave her, she didn't know what to do. At first she was angry. No amount of acting skill, which inherently she knew she didn't have, could have hidden the sore red eyes, the shaking breath, or the halting speech. He tried to help, and she would smile and turn away, trying to hide what he already knew was there.
Then she tried to placate him by coming to his rehearsals, taking an interest in what he would be doing, and even searching for the best places to eat while he was gone. But while she was doing this she understood that he was going to be far, far away and nothing was going to change that. She had always been a skeptic on long distance relationships. It never worked; the proven fact being her absent mother and heartbroken father.
Something would always change, even when both parties didn't want it to, and so while she acted for him, inside she was tearing apart. It was her first and only perfect performance.
If I could gather up the nerve,
I'd put my feelings into words.
And if I weren't so young, stupid, or restless,
I might be able to just soon forget this.
While she gathered up the clothes that were scattered around on the floor, some things left over from what he forgot to throw into his suitcase last night as they packed, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the short words of the letter. He hadn't woken her up. She hadn't gotten to say goodbye. It wasn't going to work out.
It wasn't going to work out.
He had written her off, literally, as if she had been a secondary character in a bad sitcom. She had played her part and now that it was over, she would slip back into the recesses of the minds of the watchers everywhere, brought up as an anecdote whenever the show needed a segway. Sitting at the edge of the bed, she dropped the clothes in a pile at her feet and took a shattered breath.
Then she grabbed her phone and pressed two on her speed dial. When his picture popped onto the small screen, the phone fell from her hand and she brought her palms to her eyes. As her emotions warred inside her, she bit back the stinging feeling in her hitched breath and stood on unsteady feet. Leaving the bed unmade, the clothes on the floor, and her phone where it had dropped, she left the silent apartment.
Just forget this,
Just forget this,
Just forget this.
She walked quickly through the hallways, ignoring the people around her, and feeling the small paper that she had kept in her possession cut into the smooth skin of her palm. When she reached the door to her room, she closed it sharply, slid to the floor, and cried.
Please just forget me,
When I'm out all alone on the East coast.
And please don't forgive me,
When you're home all alone and you need me the most.
It wasn't the same the days after he had left. Every time there was a picture in the magazines, his name in the tabloids, or a showing on the television, her trusty sidekick would come in and save her from her despair. The aching, ripping, tearing feeling of her heart had subsided only a little but her mother hen North Carolinian wouldn't let her dwell on it.
He left her.
She deserved better.
It wasn't fair of him to leave her.
And then the test came back and she wasn't crying for herself anymore.
Oh, when you need me the most.
She needed him and he wasn't here. And she couldn't think of anything to do. Because he was the one that got into the crazy situations but found a way out. He was the one that would hold her when she cried. And he was the one that would tell her it would be okay.
Yeah, when you need me the most.
More tests, more heartbreak, more time where she was alone. She needed him more, even with best friends and soothing nurses, and he wasn't there.
And he wasn't coming back.
Oh, if I only had the heart,
To find out exactly who you are.
You know I tried now.
But it's just fine; no, you can't save me.
It's no fault but mine, please just blame me.
He hadn't talked to her in over three months. Three months when he hadn't heard her sing-song voice, the crazy antics of her characters, or the bubbly laugh she was embarrassed by. And the knife he had driven into his own side was only twisted when she would talk to his friends, his mom, his sister, anyone but him. He would walk into a room where one of them was on the phone and it would get silent. Awkward pauses that he felt he had to fill by asking about her.
She was fine.
But he knew what that meant. Nothing was ever fine with the crazy brunette. Something was always happening, whether it was amazingly tragic or awesomely exciting. Adjectives were always used. Never fine, just fine. But maybe that was who she was now. He had known her before but maybe he didn't know who she was now.
It was his fault, he would think to himself. If he had just --, well he wasn't sure, but he knew that this was not how he wanted things to be.
But they were.
If I could gather up the nerve,
I'd put my feelings into words.
And if I weren't so young, stupid, or restless,
I might be able to just soon forget this.
I love you.
Three simple words were all he needed to say. It would be simple. Pick up the phone. Dial the numbers on the phone. Wait for the impending ringing and answering. Talk into the phone.
But he couldn't do it.
Every time he tried he ended up looking at the phone and doing nothing. Her picture would come up, one where she was squinting at him and pulling a face, and he would just stare. What could he say that would make anything that he had done better? He couldn't mend what he had done. And something had happened to her. He could tell by the looks on his friends' faces when they would hang up the phone.
Accusing and saddened. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't focus long enough to figure it out.
Just forget this,
Just forget this,
Just forget this.
She didn't want to, but when the time came she had to leave. The pain; the heartache; everything that had happened was too much. With one last glance, she dropped the crumpled note she had held with her all this time on the bedside table next to her old things of his. She then said goodbye, left her last month's rent on her father's old desk, and left Los Angeles. She didn't know where she was headed but she had to get away. It wasn't fair to anyone if she stayed.
The drive was loud, long, and nauseating as she rolled all the windows down, turned up the music, and drove until the gas was gone. When she arrived in her new town, the ocean breeze was strong and the waves were loud. She spends the first night in her car, her back aching and her sides cramping for most of the night.
The next day was spent finding a new place to stay. Most places weren't friendly, she was an underage teenager with a not-so-well hidden 'problem', but she could pay her first three month's rent and she was finally allowed an apartment near the sea. It was by no means anywhere she would be able to stay for long, the glitz of the place almost impaired her vision, but she decided she needed something for herself.
And so she slept in a big comfortable bed, holding herself and staring into the dark moon, the stars finally visible.
Please just forget me,
When I'm out all alone on the East coast.
And please don't forgive me,
When you're home all alone and you need me the most.
He didn't know what he'd expected. Seven months was a long time to wait for someone. Maybe he had thought that as he walked back through the doors to the apartment, the pretty girl would have been waiting for him. When he did open the door, however, he was just greeted with the stale smell of plastic from the yellow slide that curled around the living room.
When he walked into his room to place his bag on the floor, he noted the folded pile of clothes sitting on the made-up bed. On top was the note he had left seven months ago. The pristine white paper was now creased and fading, the black ink turned gray from wear. Under the note were three pictures, all taken before he had left. He sighed and sank onto the bed, his feet hitting something solid on the ground.
Picking up the object, he looked at the little pink phone realizing that she was gone. She had left.
Just like he had told her to do.
Oh, when you need me the most.
Yeah, when you need me the most.
She hadn't known what to do, so like any good actress she had improvised. The taxi driver hadn't been happy, and the doctor's had been a bit wary of the tiny brunette woman telling them that her daughter needed her, but she had made it through. With help from her mother, a woman she hadn't expected to see for many more years and then only because she had been forced to see her mother in a grave, had rescued her from her pain.
After the euphoric feeling in her mind and body left and her mother slipped out, she held the baby in her arms and looked into her deep blue eyes. As tears welled in her own eyes, she realized what was missing. What, or rather who, she needed with her now.
So after she and her new addition left the hospital, she headed home to where she had been happy. And to where she wanted to be happy again.
Oh, if I only had the heart.
Oh, if I only had the words.
I'm thinking now I would have had the words.
He didn't know what he was doing, but he had heard from his old 'friend' that she was back. With a warning in her blue eyes, the blonde had told him that she probably wouldn't want to see him. Except now he was sure that it was a challenge. He was miserable, she was miserable, and if they couldn't get it together than they could be miserable together.
His friends had already gone to see her, each coming back in a somewhat confused daze, looking at him a if he had done something wrong but astonishing at the same time. So eventually, he packed all his courage up and went to see her.
He wasn't sure if the words were right.
Or if he was going to be as awkward as he had been when they'd first kissed.
But he knew what he had to do.
And he wanted her back.
Please just forget me,
When I'm out all alone on the East coast.
And please don't forgive me,
When you're home all alone and you need me the most.
"Kendall?"
"Camille."
When you need me the most.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Big Time Rush, which is Scott Fellows' property. Nor do I own the song lyrics used. Those are specifically the Maine's. Check out the song too! It's pretty much amazing!
Alright! So how was that? My first kind-of-prose, kind-of-random, story one-shot that I had to get out! It was attacking my brain and so instead of writing for my other stories, or studying for a major biology test I have tomorrow, I decided to write this. Of course, you'll see that it does not have a definitive ending and that's because the way I see it ending may not be the way that you see it ending. So I wanted it to be open for interpretations and for you to pick your very own ending.
So, let me know what you think. And if you're feeling up to it, tell me what you think the ending is! There's no right or wrong answer, because it's whatever you think it should be. Alright, well that's enough for now!
Thanks for reading!