My first Supernatural fic and first Dean/Jo fic. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors. Also, some of the sentences seem fragmented and kinda choppy but thats just how i write, hah.
Btw, I was listening to "Shattered" by OAR when I wrote this.
Disclaimer: I own nada.
--
HER
He drove mindlessly into the night, hands gripped tightly onto the steering wheel. The rain falls rhythmically all around the impala, keeping time with the inhale and exhale of his breath. Metallica hummed forth quietly from the stereo as he subconsciously taps the steering wheel, endeavoring to soothe his nerves. The rain continues to beat down on the window, temporarily blurring his view before the windshield wiper wipes away the trickling water. He wishes the rain could wipe away the memories of her still emblazoned in his mind. Wash it all away.
He's still thinking about her.
He's driven past by her place ten times tonight, reckless in his game. Each time slower than the last. Each time threatening to be the last before his heart wins and his mind raises its hands in defeat. But he keeps driving on, determined not to return, and determined not to let her image become all that he sees. But the pull of the memories that creep forth in his mind always makes him turn around. He always turns the car around.
He keeps on thinking about her.
He parks the car across the street from her apartment and looks up at her through the window. He assumes that the darkness of the night shields him from her view. He's careless in his assumption. But he's done this before. Twice.
She's walking around the apartment talking on the phone, seemingly unaware of distant eyes penetrating through her. His gaze never leaves her as his eyes follow her every move. She laughs and tosses her hair back. He contemplates the injustice that the tint of the apartment's yellow light imparts her soft blonde hair. She stops talking and puts down the phone. Her shoulders heave up and down in a heavy sigh as she turns around and looks out the window, her eyes in his direction. But she isn't looking at him. Her gaze didn't belong to him anymore. But he pretends that her stare is exclusively his. He smiles up at her in ironic bliss. She finally turns around and walks away from the window. A few moments of nothingness passes by as he gazes up intently, waiting for her return. But she doesn't return. Instead he is answered with darkness when the lights go out and all is still.
He drops his head slowly and sits in silence. He almost lets the darkness engulf him but then slowly reaches for the key and turns it. The impala roars to life as it quietly slides away from the curb and down the street, disappearing into the black night.
He drove mindlessly into the night, hands gripped tightly onto the steering wheel. Metallica hummed forth quietly from the stereo as the rain fell heedlessly, oblivious to his thoughts. His heart beats in rhythm to the sound of the music as he subconsciously taps the steering wheel. He didn't turn the car around.
And he still thinks about her
--
HIM
The raindrops gracefully slide down the windowpane as she stares pensively out into the night. The TV droned on in the background while the dull sound of the refrigerator hummed in unison.
She waits for him.
The routine is known to her, the scene all too familiar. He's done this before. Twice. She realizes it was him as he repeatedly drove past her apartment in circles. She recognized his car gliding down the street and wonders if he wants her to know. She wasn't so sure it was him the first few times so she set a video camera near the window, hidden by a potted plant, and set it on night vision. Then it was unmistakable. Thus, the clever spy was caught in his ruse. And she knew this cycle. He drove by the same ten times he did before. He'd park across the street in the same spot he parked before. And he'd complete this cycle during the same time of the night he would before. A repetitious song she gladly danced along to.
She's still waiting for him.
His car slides into its spot and she begins her act. A play she painfully reenacts for him and the entire world to see. She walks around the apartment and clutches the phone in her hand. She fabricates a fake conversation with no one on the other side, continuing her charade. He buys into it. She tosses her hair back, feigning laughter. He stares up at her. She puts the phone down and turns around, facing the night. She's careful not to stare in his direction but looks calmly out at the rain. She looks at him without looking at him. She finally walks away from the window and turns off the light. The silence fills the air. She walks back towards the window. He looks down into his lap. She's no longer visible to him but his silhouette is slightly apparent to her in the soft glow of the night. She feels his presence.
Water glides down the glass as she stares numbly out the window. The slow hum of the refrigerator, the only sound accompanying her silent tears. He turns on the car and slowly drives away, disappearing from her view. She gently presses her hand against the window and closes her eyes. She plays scenes in her head.
And she still waits for him.