Written for the Creddie Croctober Challenge. :D
Enjoy.
"Awakening"
FanFic by: KeyLimePie14
Why can't you just let me hold you? He thinks as he watches you break down right in front of him. You're killing him and you don't even notice it. All you can see is how much your pain is affecting you. The hot tears fall faster down your face as the sobs rack your body violently, causing you to choke. It may be the classic date-to-the-dance-dumps-you-for-another-girl cliché, but when it's actually you on the end being dumped it hurts. It really hurts. It didn't really help that just a few hours ago you were gushing to your best friend about how much you hoped he was the one and how he was so cute, sweet, funny and sincere. You curse yourself for not seeing this beforehand. Of course the guy was going to dump you for someone more gorgeous. They always did, didn't they? That's how it always seemed to happen with you…
Too bad you were also too blind to notice that after every breakup and every breakdown there was always one guy who never left your side. And you were too upset to notice that, the same aforementioned guy was standing in front of you right now, fighting off his own emotions to take you in his arms and cradle you until the pain subsides.
The tears are blurring your vision so much that you can't see the internal battle he's fighting with himself. He wonders how you would react if he just sucked it up and wrapped his arms around you. You wonder what you ever even saw in that other guy. Why you liked him so much in the first place… For such a smart girl you always seemed to be setting yourself up for hurt. Were you just that naïve? Or was it karma playing trick after sick trick on you? Sometimes you just had to wonder.
Sometimes wondering was all he could do. He wondered why you always chose the jerky guys. The ones that always broke your heart. Couldn't you see, he pleaded in his mind, hoping you would receive his urgent thoughts telepathically. Can't you see what you're doing to yourself? You're setting yourself up for self destruction! His thoughts were so loud he was afraid they had been voiced aloud. When he doesn't see you react, he calms down a little bit, realizing he's just being paranoid.
You catch a glimpse of a couple holding onto one another and laughing; the slowing sobs pick up pace again, the tears falling so fast you wonder if there's ever going to be an end to the waterworks. At this moment you don't think it's ever going to end, but then there is a pair of strong arms wrapping around your shaking frame, whispering comforting words in your ear. The scent of his aftershave is so familiar that you instantly calm down a substantial amount. It was amazing how easily he could calm you. Your hands grasp the front of his shirt, desperately needing to cling onto something solid. He brings his hand up to make soothing circles on your back with his hand.
The loud music is no longer heard by either of you. He is too focused on the closeness of your body against his. His senses are filled completely by you; his is adept to every single heart-wrenching sob that escapes your lips; he can feel the heat and wetness of your tears soaking through his shirt; the smell of your perfume clogs his nostrils, making his stomach flutter as if it were weightless. You don't notice his emotional turmoil, however. You've just realized the guy that just ditched you was your ride home.
You pull your face away from the brunette boy's tear-stained shirt and look up at him through your thick lashes, blubbering between hiccups about your new-found recognition. His face calms and the ministrations of his hand on your back stop. You stare at him confusedly, wondering what he was thinking. He doesn't say a word; instead, he pulls your head back down into his chest, his fingers sifting through your sleek brunette locks, massaging your scalp ever so slightly with his fingertips. He leans down and whispers in your ear not to worry, that he can take you home. You want to protest and tell him that he can't take you home, what about his date? But it is then you decide you don't care about his date. You're happy he's here with you and not that stupid bimbo he arrived with. And who you haven't seen since. You assume neither has he, so that's why he's not concerned with her.
Your tears have slowed once more, but you're still hiccupping from the little episode. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing through the fabric of his shirt and you take note that it's slightly erratic and faster than normal. You giggle faintly and look up at his face again, questioning if he's nervous. He replies no, and wants to know why you ask? But you know from the way his cheeks tint with color and his eyes avert away from yours that he's lying. …And for some reason you feel satisfied that you're making him feel this way.
You know that he's been crushing on you since sixth grade, but up until now you've never really concerned yourself with his romantic interest in you. It's always just been something you accepted, but assured him—and yourself—that nothing would ever come of it.
…Now you find yourself curious as to why he felt the way he did about you. To ponder this for long would be fruitless, though. You notice how most of the male student body looks at you as something to be desired and obtained. But the one key difference you notice that separates him from all the other hormonal teenage boys pining after your love is the amount of compassion his stares reflect. This makes your heart beat in tune with his; it picks up speed and your breath hitches in your throat as he asks you in a gravelly voice if you want to leave. You gulp and nod your head yes, a smile spreading across the entire expanse of your face.
He grasps your hand and leads you through the throng of dancers, taking care to make sure you don't get away from him. You reach the double doors that lead to the crisp fall Seattle air and you let out a laugh as the chill hits you, seeping through your bones, making you shiver. He notices this and places his jacket over your shoulders, rubbing your upper arms vigorously, creating friction. He hesitates behind you for a moment, but then sighs and backs away, coming to take his place at your side. You thank him for the jacket and scoot slightly closer to him as another breeze rolls through, making you even colder.
He leads you over to his car and you both tumble in, completely frozen at this point. He just smiles sadly at you, not making any attempt to move touch you like he had inside at the dance. You frown slightly and turn your head to look out the window, watching city block after city block coast by. You blink and you are sitting outside of the apartment complex you both reside in. You slide out of his car once he puts it in park and turns off the ignition. He walks around the car, taking your elbow and leading you into the lobby.
Inside, the heat is a shock to your body, the chillness of your skin mingling with the sudden dry heat. This sensation makes you antsy and you pull away from him, practically running over to the elevator as you reach over and press the up button. He chuckles at your actions and ambles up to stand beside you as you both wait for the elevator to arrive and take you to the eighth floor, where you both live.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open effortlessly. You stride in, pressing the eight button before you walk to the back and lean against the bar, letting out a sigh. He looks over at you questioningly.
"I'm just tired." You say before he can bombard you with the thousands of questions you know were just bursting to come out of his mouth. You lean your head back against the wooden paneling of the elevator wall and shut your eyes.
"You're not just tired, and I know it." He tells you softly, his deep voice resonating off of the walls, overpowering the repetitive elevator music. You bring a hand up to rub at your temple and open your eyes, staring back at him.
"I've got a headache too." Your eyes are pleading with him to drop it, to let you wallow for a little while, but from past experiences you know he's not going to drop it that easily.
"Carly…" He admonishes, arching an eyebrow at you. You shake your head, determined not to break down again. You've made him suffer enough tonight. He sighs and opens his mouth to say more, but the elevator lurches to a stop and the doors slide open.
You bolt out, hoping to reach your apartment and go inside before he has time to speak again.
"Stop." He commands you, his large hand grabbing you upper arm. You yelp at the contact and try to shake him off. Tears sting at the back of your eyes and you blink, trying to keep them away. At least until I'm inside, you keep thinking to yourself. He's being too nice and you just can't take it.
"Why do you have to care so much anyway?" You shout, whirling around to face him. You break out of his hold and stare into his shell-shocked expression with steely eyes. His mouth opens and closes a few times, no sound coming out.
After pausing a few more seconds the initial shock appears to wear off and he hangs his head, muttering more the to the floor than you,
"I don't know." His eyes flash back to you for a second before falling back down to focus on his shoes. It was only a second, but suddenly all your defenses broke down. You saw nothing but raw emotion and hurt in his eyes a moment ago.
You instantly hate yourself. Sure, you'd denied him before, and had seen the rejection in his eyes put there by you, but there was something completely different about this time and you knew something was about to change.
And it could either be good or bad depending on the next words coming out of your mouth.
You reach for his hand, grasping it firmly. He looks up at you, his jaw going slack. His eyes flash and your brow furrows in confusion. What was he reading into this that you weren't? He gently pries his hand out of yours and sighs.
"Don't do me any favors." He whispers, staring at the ground again. He pleads with his feet to work and carry him the few remaining feet to his apartment, but he doesn't move. His legs feel like cement and he's rooted to the spot.
You stare at him in awe, not understanding his actions. But for the first time you look at him, taking in his features, committing them to memory. It's not as if you've never seen him before; he was your best friend, after all. This time, though, you were seeing him in a whole new perspective. You began to notice countless little details you'd never paid attention to, up until this point.
You notice how the dim hallway light casts a shadow over his ever-smooth skin, giving his complexion a dark glow. You notice for the first time, when he looks up at you, your eyes meeting his for a moment, how many different colors blend in his deep, chocolate eyes seemingly bringing them to life. Green and dark gold flecks mix with the deep russet, giving his character more dimensions. You also notice how gorgeous his mussed up locks appear, the light casing off the natural highlights, giving his hair a shiny glow. To say the least he appeared perfect and you begin to seriously wonder why you'd never noticed just how attractive he really was.
"I'm not doing you any favors." You then wince because you realize how bad the words sounded phrased like that. You take a deep breath and try again, "I'm sorry. I'm just so confused right now." This caught his attention and his head snapped up, those beautiful irises boring into yours.
"What are you confused about?" He questioned, confusion marking his features. You shake your head and laugh bitterly.
"I have no idea." You admit, thinking how stupid you must sound to him right now. "Something's different about tonight, don't you think?" You ask timidly, fiddling with the ring on your finger, your gaze falling to the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. You almost laugh out loud as you think this, because it is so preposterous. The floor appears like coal compared to the sparkle of the diamond standing in front of you, still bewildered beyond belief.
"Yeah." He answers softly. "Something is different." He steps closer to you. You look up and stare at him expectantly. He smirks, gaining a little bit of confidence from maintaining eye contact. You glance away, and look to at your apartment door.
"You want to come in?" You ask him, praying that he says yes. You need him tonight, even if it's just to talk to you, you need him.
"Sure." He answers, smirk forming an ear-to-ear smile. He grasps your small, dainty hand in his larger, calloused one and follows you inside as it was unlocked. You drop your clutch purse by the door and call out for your brother. He doesn't answer. You look up at Freddie in confusion and walk over to the counter in the kitchen.
Your brother left you a note, telling you he went with Socko to a last-minute convention and that he would be back tomorrow late afternoon. You sigh as you realize you're going to be alone. The last thing you want right now is to be by yourself. You can't call your best friend either, because you're almost positive she's still at the dance, enjoying her date. Her date hadn't ditched her like yours did, so she was having a blast when you were home, in a dark apartment, all alone.
He cleared his voice from behind you, pulling you out of your mental pity party. Your lips struggled to pull themselves upward. Well, you weren't completely alone. You still had him. You would always have him.
You smile and turn to face him. "What now?" He asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Shrugging, you tell him whatever he wants to do. He shrugs back, showing indifference. You smile back at him.
"I'm going to change out of this thing." You say, looking down at the sparkly dress you couldn't wait to put on mere hours ago, "I'll be back soon." You tell him as you make your way to the stairs. He follows, stopping at the couch and sitting down.
"Okay, I'll be here." He tells you as he bends over to pick up the remote.
You nod and take the stairs one by one; you count them silently in your head. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… Anything will do if it keeps your mind off of the tangled thoughts that keep running through your head like a sprinter. Are your feelings for the brunette boy on your couch changing? You confirm silently to yourself that they might have already changed unbeknownst to you.
You reach the second floor and deftly pad down the hallway to your bedroom, kicking the door open and stepping inside. You slide out of your dress, leaving it in a heap on the floor and walk over to your dresser. You pull out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. You slip the clothes on and sigh, looking longingly at your bed. Oh how you just want to lie down amongst the fluffy pillows and sleep. Just sleep until all recollections of this night are nothing but a distant memory.
You walk over and sit down on your bed, just relaxing. Then, your back begins to hurt so you figure what could it hurt lie down? Right?
**
"Carls?" Your eyes open to see his face peering down into yours. You groan and pull the covers up around you. You mumble a response and he sits down beside you on the bed. "You fell asleep." He chuckles and you smile your eyes half-lidded. He reaches over to playfully touch you on the nose. "Sleepy head wake up!" He whispers in a sing-song voice, his finger straying away from a playful gesture to a loving one as he ran his finger down your cheek, tracing your jaw line ever so softly. You smile again and lean your head slightly into his touch. His finger turns into his whole hand and it cups your cheek. "…Are you awake?" He asks, his thumb stroking your face. You nod faintly and moan.
"What time is it?" The words manage to escape your lips, even though by now your eyes have completely closed and you're drifting in and out of consciousness. He whispers that it's past midnight and then gets up. You almost cry out as you feel the warmth of his hand leave your face. "Don't go." You whisper.
"I have to…My mom will worry." His voice is soft and tinged with sadness. Your eyes struggle to open and your arm, heavy with exhaustion, reaches out to grab his coat.
"Please don't." You tug slightly on his coat and somehow weave your hand to find his. He sighs and sits back down. You're acutely aware that his hand is still entwined in yours. You sigh contentedly and curl into his lap, seeking warmth. His hand tenses in yours, and you feel it go clammy. You ask if he's okay, as you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head into his neck. He gulps, tickling your nose causing you to giggle. He relaxes after a moment and wraps his arms around you as well, pushing you back down onto the bed as he shifts to lie next to you.
Your eyes open and scan his for a moment. His eyes are dark, focused. You're pretty sure yours are glazed over. He smirks and his hand is on your cheek again, his thumb rubbing that same spot. It's your new favorite gesture. He murmurs something, but it was so low that you miss it.
"What?" You breathe sleepily, your eyes open and try to focus on his face. You fight the sleep, shoving it back, wanting to stay in this moment. Your hand reaches up to graze his cheek, tracing the corner of his lip. He gulps and his cheeks blush. You giggle and run your hand over the heat that's risen to his cheeks. "Freddie…" You murmur his name, your hand now tracing his jaw. He stifles a sigh and pushes your hand away.
"Go to sleep, Carly. Okay?" His voice sounds deflated and your brow furrows. You ask him what you did. He sighs and tells you he has to go. You beg and ask him to stay until you fall asleep. "Just until then." He tells you, lying back down. You giggle and scoot into him, wrapping one arm around his torso and pressing the other up against his chest. He squirms for a moment, not sure what to do with himself before giving up and wrapping his arm around your waist. "…Carly?" He tests to see if you're still awake. You mumble, letting him know you heard. He can only laugh; he notices how you're fighting the sleep that is inevitable. "Sleep, alright?" It's a command you won't deny.
"Okay…" You begin to drift off, the next words speaking straight from the tangled subconscious of your mind, "Freddie, I love you." You realize at that moment that you mean every fiber of those words. Straight to the core. You bury your head into his chest and inhale deeply, his scent mixing in your nostrils and soothing you to the point of pure contentment.
You don't even notice that he tenses a little upon hearing those words. Those words he has waited years upon years to come out of your mouth, aimed towards him. You do notice, however, that he whispers them back. In a voice so tender and soft, he whispers them. Making them sound as if they were delicate—which, to him they were—too delicate for it to even be spoken aloud.
You fall asleep to the sound of his even breathing and dependable heartbeat.
You won't realize until morning that he's done the same, finally getting his wish—you.
How was it? Good, bad? You really don't know? You just want to wish me a Happy Halloween? ;D Whatever it is, let me know in a review!