Pam stared at the door with wide eyes, her soup now cold in her lap. He had left and she was alone, sitting on her couch alone, again. She could feel the familiar fearful feeling clawing at her chest.
She was chewing on her lip and fighting off sleep. She was exhausted, in every sense of the word. Her heart felt like it had just been pummeled, her body was sore from fighting off sickness, and her mind was tired of trying to constantly figure things out.
She blinked open her heavy eye lids and forced herself into an uncomfortable position. She wasn't going to fall asleep. She would wait for him to come back.
She would wait for him to come home.
It was almost two o' clock in the morning when the door opened slowly. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair nervously.
Jim came in and looked mildly surprised to see her still awake. He closed the door and leaned his back up against it, shutting his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. She twisted her hands nervously in her lap, unsure of what to say.
Soon he opened them and mustered a small smile. "I'm sorry."
She raised her eyebrows. Not what she was expecting.
"What?"
"I shouldn't have pushed you like that and gotten angry." He scratched at the base of his neck, pushing back a yawn. "You're right. You didn't have to tell me. We don't have a relationship."
She felt a pang in her heart and looked down at her hands. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just surprised."
"You didn't want me to know that bad?" His said with a slight comical air, his hands shoved in his pants pockets, his legs crossed at the ankles.
She looked up and met his eyes briefly before focusing on one of the pictures that hung on the wall. "It wasn't that. I just was trying to forget it. You know?"
"Yeah, I know." He said in a half-whisper, the smile sliding from his features.
They stood in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Jim pushed his body off of the door and shuffled closer to her.
"Well, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
He gave her another strained half smile before walking over to his room. She forced the question in her mind out before she could lose confidence.
"So are we okay?"
"Always." He didn't even turn around.
-
Jim crashed onto his bed and looked up at the ceiling. He could hear her, still outside in the living room. She was pacing back and forth. He knew he was being cold. But it was the only way to protect himself. After her short outburst it was obvious she didn't see him in any special light. She didn't see a future involving them as a couple.
She saw him as someone to tell her there were no ghosts under her bed. She saw him as someone who made her soup when she was sick and comforted her when she was sad.
Funny, some consider those things acts of love.
He pushed the thought out of his head and rolled over in his bed, letting out a groan.
She didn't see him at all. She didn't see the way he looked at her. She didn't see the love he knew was in his eyes. He was just a person.
He had to be cold. It was the only way. He couldn't be this close to her and not have her. It would kill him.
-
Jim walked into the kitchen, giving Pam a small smile as he shuffled to the fridge and ducked into it, searching for the orange juice.
"So, are you still up for the art festival in town today?"
Jim froze in the fridge, his hand resting on the orange juice. Damn it, he forgot. Him and Pam were supposed to go to the Scranton Art Festival in one of the community parks today. It featured art from all sorts of artists. Young, old, beginners, experts; they had it all. Pam was so excited when he had showed her the ad in the paper.
He had a fleeting moment of panic. There was no way he could go to the fair with her. He couldn't tell himself he wouldn't care and spend an entire day with her.
He straightened his back and looked at her, swallowing.
"Actually," he ruffled his hair absently. "I'm not going to be able to go."
Her face visibly fell and he fought the pang of guilt stabbing his heart. This was necessary, this was necessary, this was necessary.
"Oh." She looked down again. "Why?"
"Uh, my brother, Jonathan, he, uh, called last night when I left. And I'm supposed to meet him for lunch."
"Oh, well why don't you both come. I want to meet him." She smiled up at him, resting her chin in her hand.
He looked at her with wide eyes. He felt like he was about to throw up everything. Organs, emotions, hopes, and dreams. Everything. Apparently, lying to her was more difficult than it looked.
"I don't think that's a good idea." Her face fell again and he averted his eyes.
"Oh. Okay."
"I mean, I almost never see him and-"
"You don't want to waste time with me while you have him here."
Her voice was so broken and hurt he wanted to slam his head against the edge of the counter and crawl up into a ball on the floor. He couldn't do this. He couldn't deliberately hurt her.
But he had to. He had to stay cold. He couldn't go places with her and watch her laugh and be happy and have her grasp at his hand and know she couldn't be his.
The internal struggle was starting to weigh heavily on him.
"I would if I could."
-
Jim left around noon, giving her another apology on his way out. She had told him it was fine, she would go by herself and see if she could find any new stuff for the apartment.
He had smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. She knew he was still hurt from last night but she didn't know how to fix it.
It was different between them and she didn't like it.
She wanted things to go back. She wanted him to make her soup. She wanted him to hold her hand and tell her there are no ghosts. She wanted him to buy her animal crackers and drive her to work.
She wanted him.
She loved him.
Understandably enough, after that revelation, she decided the art festival wasn't the most productive use of her time. She dug out the paints that had been sitting in her closet for months, untouched, and spread them out around her on the floor.
She sat cross-legged in front of a large, white bed sheet and tapped the handle of the brush against her mouth. She wanted to paint. She closed her eyes and just tried to feel it, the way she used to. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, a small smile on her face.
She was startled out of her reverie when Jim walked in and threw his jacket across a bar stool, sitting down and opening one of the newspapers. He didn't even seem to realize Pam was watching him from her position on the floor with her paints surrounding her.
She squinted her eyes in confusion. "What are you doing back?"
He jumped in shock, swinging his body in his seat to face her. She was pretty sure his eyebrows were going to disappear in his hairline.
"Why aren't you at the festival?" His voice cracked and he coughed.
"I decided not to go. Why aren't you at lunch with your brother?"
"Oh, uh." He fumbled with his hands and his eyes darted back and forth quickly. She took a sharp intake of breath and her eyes went wide.
"There wasn't any lunch, was there?"
She climbed up off the floor and carefully put down her brush, still untouched by color. Jim followed her with his eyes, swallowing nervously. She crossed her arms in front of him and put all her weight on one leg.
"Was there?"
He jumped again at her voice.
"No?"
"You aren't sure?"
"No, there was no lunch."
There was a silence where he met her eyes and she searched his. She uncrossed her arms and her chest deflated, her eyes welling up. He felt the urge to slam his head against ceramic again.
"Why did you lie to me?"
He didn't answer, just looked down at her sock covered feet. He wanted to laugh because they didn't match and it was just so her and adorable. But he figured that would be inappropriate.
"Jim?" He almost wished her voice was loud and demanding, rather than sad, confused, and hurt.
"Because-" His own voice surprised him by being quietly forceful.
"Because why Jim?"
"Because I didn't want to go to the fair with you."
She averted her eyes from his and looked up at the ceiling. He could see that she was willing herself not to cry. "You could have just told me that."
"I didn't want to hurt you."
"Too late." She whispered, more to herself than him. She looked back down at him and set her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek. She couldn't stand the way he was looking at her.
"I'm just-" She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb as a few tears leaked from her eyes and cascaded down, landing silently on the wood floor. "I'm just going to go to my room."
She took a few steps backwards, giving him an awkward smile that looked more like a grimace, before turning and making her way to her room, chin dropping to her chest.
"Pam-"
She didn't stop and she could hear him get up from the bar stool and do a half-jog to where she was. He grabbed her hand and tugged it gently. She stopped, electricity flowing through her body.
"Ask me why I didn't want to go."
He intertwined his fingers with her own and stepped in front of her. She bit her trembling lip.
"I think I already know."
She was looking at the ground and he used his free hand to touch her chin and tilt it up until she met his eyes.
"Ask me." He whispered.
"Why didn't you want to go to the fair with me?"
"I didn't want to go to the fair with you because I am currently trying to convince myself that I do not love you." Pam's eyes widened slightly. He gave her a small smile. "When I found out about you and Roy, I thought you didn't tell me because you didn't trust me. And when you said we didn't have a relationship I had thought that meant you didn't care anything for me. I was convinced that you didn't see me at all. So I told myself I would become cold and separate myself completely. Because I can't be around you without this feeling, here."
He took their intertwined fingers and placed them over his heart. "But, right now, seeing you hurt because I didn't go out with you, I am convinced that you feel more than nothing towards me."
She was staring at their hands folded together over his heart and he seemed to be waiting for an answer.
"Tell me I didn't misunderstand things. Tell me that when you see me, you feel the same things I do. Tell me that when you look in my eyes, you just know and you feel safe. Tell me-"
He stopped, his voice breaking. She slowly moved her eyes from their hands to the green orbs looking at her anxiously.
"Tell me I didn't misunderstand."
She paused, her mouth opening and closing in silence. She swallowed and then a small smile spread across her features.
"You didn't misunderstand."