Title: Ideal

Rating: T

Pairings: Brick/Bubbles

Warnings: Mild sexual implications, implied drug abuse and minor OOCness

Notes: This was a spontaneous bout of inspiration that left me in a minute or two, so please excuse the first person POV.


It was either really late at night or extremely early in the morning, the rain that had showered the city left the air cool and damp, Bubbles was smiling and I felt nothing.

I didn't feel anything at all, as if a void was emptying me of all possible feeling.

I didn't know if this was because I was me, or because she was her, but I knew something wasn't right. Lately, nothing felt right. But I suppose this could've been because nothing felt wrong either. I desperately hoped this would later be clarified in a puff of dazzling white smoke, but until then, everything escaped me.

And maybe that's why I made the decisions I made, and did what I did in desperate acts to feel anything. To make my life less pathetic, and regain the sense of self I once had.

Whatever the reason, I was not with Bubbles for that. Bubbles was there because when I was with her I felt sane. I felt okay. I felt.

And maybe without her I wouldn't be anything more than that, but that could also be the reason I needed to be without her. I needed to feel like myself without her.

I reached into the cabinet next to me and sighed heavily when I couldn't find a syringe. It wasn't that I needed it, but I sure as hell wanted it. It sparked my greed for the 'me' that I wished to be. I was beginning to think I couldn't feel like myself without it.

Bubbles turned over and wrapped her arm and leg around me. She gave me a delicate squeeze and I felt the slight sweat on her slim curves, and taut belly subtly press against my body.

Strands of her short blond hair stuck to her cheeks and my shoulder. Sleepy yet satisfied stunningly blue eyes blinked up at me questioningly. She probably just heard the noise.

"I lost my sleeping pills," I tell her bluntly.

She blinks a few more times before letting go of me and reaching over to the other side of the bed where her bag was on the floor. I took in the curve of her back while she moved. When she came back up she offered me a tube of pills.

I frowned. "What's this?"

"Something." She giggled, reverting to her previous position.

I decide against it until morning and place the bottle on my bedsie table.

"Hey, you seemed off today." Bubbles mentioned. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I deadpan, hoping she'll back off. I don't feel like talking about myself, I never have. The thing with Bubbles is, she doesn't give a fuck about that.

So naturally she looks up at me with a pout that makes me want to kiss her and says, "No, not nothing. Please talk to me."

And maybe this is one of the reasons I love her. She adamantly cares.

I still can't bring myself to tell her the truth, so I tell her a truth instead; "I'm going away for a while."

Bubbles instantly frowns. "What does that mean?"

"That I'm leaving the city,"

My brothers and I had discussed it numerous times. Our fathers, or at least one of them, wouldn't mind giving us money.

"I don't understand." Bubbles whispers this softly. I couldn't hope for her understanding. She has a dependable father, hope for a future and a definite plan. I had none of that and wasn't going to just get them. I did however want two of those three things, and this want was something she'd never had, so she wouldn't understand. But she would try, and that was okay.

I kiss her forehead and tell her as much. "You don't have to."

"Will you be back?"

"Yes."

"I love you." She declares softly, and cuddles impossibly close to me. I hold her tightly.

"Hmm..."

Maybe she never asked too many questions because she was tired, or didn't take me seriously. Or maybe, in some place deep inside her she was too scared to hope for anything else.

Things would change if I left, and I wonder if she would too. I assume her lack of questioning my judgement means she'll wait. I assume she means it when she says she loves me. I could be wrong. I'm terrified that I'm wrong.

Maybe that's why I don't tell her I love her, or search for answers to my own feelings. Maybe that's why all these 'maybes' will always be exactly that. Maybe.

Something I knew for certain was that she was my only reason to stay. And that's why I needed to go.