A/N: Big thanks to Laurzz, for betaing and for being awesome.
She woke surprisingly rested, expecting to find herself in yesterday's rumpled clothes, matted hair and a sore body. She squinted towards the bright lights of day coming through her bedroom window, and casted a glance down at herself.
She somehow ended up in a pair of pajamas and a tank top, her hair pulled out of her face. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, she ended up here, in bed, like this. She knew she wasn't in any emotional state the night before to care whether or not she ended up in bed still in work clothes, and she figured the only person who would help her mentally exhausted state would be him.
She slipped out from under the covers, slightly nervous as to what she would find beyond her bedroom door. Without a clue of what to expect, she cautiously stepped through the threshold, and into the hall.
Cringing slightly as the hardwood creaked, she found him struggling with the coffee maker in the kitchen, silently cursing at the appliance, careful not to wake her. And as she watched this scene unfold in front of her, she felt slightly awkward, like the unknown territory they found themselves on was closing in on them.
She felt like she was suffocating.
Not literally, of course, but it was like no matter where she went, and no matter how hard she pretended that what they had wasn't meant to be, no matter what she did, who she did it with, his picture would flood her thoughts.
And right now, she tried to have a back bone. She wanted to go up there, tell him what she has been meaning to tell him for a long time, how angry and disgusted she is with him. But the walls of their relationship, and the good times, the happy times, close in around her and she can't. She simply cannot do it.
She can't shatter him like he did her.
She continues to stare at his back, simply trying to keep her mind on things other than her need for air. Where did he sleep? Glancing around quickly, she notices a small pile of neatly folded sheets and blankets on the end of the couch. She smiled lightly and turned back towards him, knowing he's not one for folding things, preferring his stuff rolled up in a ball, or hung up.
"I gotta system, Montana. You just don't understand it," he said, his lips turning up into a smirk. "Yet."
"You just gonna stand there or are you gonna take me out of my misery and this damn coffee machine?" he said, without a single glance in her direction.
Startled by him, she shook her head, almost as if she were clearing the memory for now. She walked towards him, taking the coffee maker out of his hands, fingers brushing his.
He could sense her the moment she walked in. And he knew it'd always be like that. He waited for her to make the first move, and when she didn't after awhile, he asked her for some help. When she walked over, taking the coffee machine, and their fingers touched, he dropped his hand to his side immediately, bawling it up into a fist tightly, as if to keep her touch there.
She flashed him a shaky smile, and his heart skipped a beat.
She set the coffee maker down, locking her eyes with his, his heart skipping two more beats.
She reached out to run her hand through his hair. Four.
She took the hand he had fisted, pulling his fingers out of his palm. Five.
She whispered quietly, "I know you, too." Eight.
She leaned towards him, softly rubbing her lips against his.
Flat lined.
R&R PLEASE!! :D