Heart Hush: One-shot
The world rushes by; there is no sound.
The orange civic for once is hushed, absent of the usual rumbling of the heated engine and the garage band music that typically blasts from its speakers. There are two people inside, but their breath is wasted on forming fog on the windows, not words.
They stare ahead at the bustling street, watching as people continued with their daily lives. The look of change was not etched across their faces like the two in the car, sitting so close to each other but miles away.
She taps her nails on the glass of her window, letting the noise echo through the car. Then she draws a line through a block of gathered fog. She laughs at herself as she thinks it looks like a tear drop and is surprised to feel the damp on her cheek.
He can't seem to focus on one figure walking by and finds it is all running together into a blur. His senses are locked on the girl seated beside him though he never turns to stare at her. He breathes heavy, the air heaving out of him like he's checking his lungs to make sure they're clear.
She shifts in her seat at the noise; she stops just as suddenly.
She opens her mouth to say something – anything – but her throat is dry. Her mouth snaps shut again and she continues to stare ahead.
There hasn't been a word for nearly five minutes and the silence was beginning to envelope the small space. But neither could form the right word, the right sentence.
A truck hums as it goes by and she shifts in her seat again.
He puts the key in the ignition, listening in satisfaction as the engine came to life.
"I – "he begins quietly, allowing himself to turn and look at her.
She meets his eyes, brown steel against blue, and then she turns away again. She reaches out and presses the play button on his CD player, turning up the volume until it reaches an eardrum numbing level.
He pulls out of the parking spot, heading back to Degrassi.
The car is filled again with familiar sounds and the stir of the world continuing on. But the space between them is one gaping gulf, haunting in its stillness. All the noise in the world would never fill it back up.
"What the fuck did you give me, Jay?" she had hissed, sliding into the passenger's seat. It had taken her the entire walk out of the clinic and to the car for her to find this sentence.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he'd asked, only halfway interested and more than a bit annoyed.
She didn't say anything and he turned to look at her. Her face was contorted in anger and something else. Something he'd rarely ever seen displayed across her face so visibly.
"Lexi?" he found himself asking, this time more concerned.
She had shaken her head. "Who have you been screwing around with?"
"Are you kidding me? No one."
"Bullshit," she had mumbled. More clear, more firm, she said, "Tell me everything, Jay. Now."
Jay looks straight ahead. Alex keeps her eyes glued to the single streak made in the fog.
The world rushes by; there is no sound.
fin