Disclaimer: All characters and situations are not my creations, but you know that already, don'tcha?

Song references (in order):

"Stupid" by Sarah McLachlan

"Fallin'" by Alicia Keys

"'Till I Get Over You" by Michelle Branch

"What Becomes of the Brokenhearted" by the Four Tops

Thank Yous: To Hilary (Yay! Another Firth fan! Welcome to the club! Or cult, whichever floats your boat), sesquipedalian, (Thanks for reviewing all five chapters! That's quite an accomplishment!) organized-chaos, and xanya-forever (And thanks to both of you for sticking with the story!) for their wonderful reviews!

Author's Note: I just found this on my computer... I didn't even realize I hadn't posted it yet! Strange...

Chapter Six: Insomnia

Jamie

Will eyed her, no longer surprised by the rumours he had been told by his friends. They had been right. This woman was gorgeous... I coughed, a pathetic attempt to hide my tears from myself. Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath and began typing again.

His brother may have been murdered, he may have been unable to eat anything for days at the thought of it , but he couldn't tear his gaze from her.

"Idiot," I muttered, addressing myself and Will at the same time.

"Are you William Bouchard?" she asked, coming up to him. Will nodded, hoping she hadn't noticed his staring. She smiled sadly. "I knew your brother very well. I'm so sorry." She blinked back tears and wiped them away, smudging her mascara in the process. A strong wind blew, pressing her black dress to her side...

"Who doesn't wear waterproof mascara to a funeral?" I rolled my eyes, but in the process a few tears rolled down my cheek. "She's the bloody murderer, you ass!" I shouted at the typewriter. With a shake of my head and the help of a tissue, I continued.

"I don't know if he told you this, but... we were seeing each other," she said quietly. Will took a small step back, seeing this woman completely differently...

My fingers connected with the desk, tap, tap, tapping.

... as a sister, almost. He simply couldn't stare at her like he had before now. She probably was still in love with his brother.

Silence filled the room for a moment, before I broke into sobs once again. I was annoyed with myself now, tired of always being a miserable pile of you-know-what, broken up over a woman who couldn't care less about my tears.

She probably was still in love with my brother.

She was still in love with my brother.

"For God's sakes, Will, she's going to try to kill you," I whispered, tiptoeing frighteningly close to the brink of insanity.

"New subject," I told himself. "New subject."

How about how stupid you would sound to Aurelia if she spoke English?

Are you trying to make me suicidal?

Funny, you don't hear voices when you're drunk. Too bad you gave up...

I growled quietly to myself, walking to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest choice, since I hadn't been able to sleep yet and it was already past midnight.

Insomnia wasn't a new thing for me. Sleep was a state of mind only attainable when I was relaxed, calm.

The mug warmed my hands as steam rose off the top, curling into the air. Quietly, I tiptoed outside into the car where I turned on the CD player, seeking some happy-go-lucky love song I wouldn't feel resentful towards.

How stupid could I be?

A simpleton could see

That you're no good for me

But you're the only one I see

After jumping a little and succeeding in getting a bit of coffee on my pants, I managed to put the mug on the dashboard and mop up the coffee with a tissue. This was not the best station, I noted, as I simultaneously sighed when I saw I was wearing dark pants.

With the push of the button, I faced yet another unsavoury lyric:

I keep on falling in and out of love with you

Sometimes I—

Nope. Falling 'out' of love was no good at the moment. Next track.

You just bring me down

So I'm counting my tears 'till I get over you—

This was the worst so far.

Knew the sign

Wasn't right

I was stupid for a while

Swept away

By you

And now I feel like a fool—

I shuddered.

As I walk this land of broken dreams

I have visions of many things

But happiness is just an illusion

Filled with sadness and confusion

What becomes of—

What was wrong with being happy? I pondered this as I took the CD out and read the black, legible lettering on the surface. Ah, yes. This was her CD, filled with her music. Her depressing songs. She'd never been much for requited love, had she?

Forcing a little laugh at that, I put the CD back in, but didn't turn it on. I sipped the coffee (which was now tepid) and got out of the car, returning to the typewriter.

"I need tea," I muttered as I sat down in front of the typewriter again. "And ice cream." This was surprising. I hadn't had ice cream in weeks. Not since I left (It was strange to think of it as me leaving). Sighing, I shook my head and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, remembering against my will.

.

"Come on, Jamie," she had said. "What's wrong with ice cream all of a sudden?"

"I'll get it all over my face and be suffering from a sugar high for the next week. I can't take that much sugar in such a small amount of time. And the cones have... carbs..."

She laughed, and I remembered loving it. That was what made me get the ice cream. That laugh. It had sounded to real and magical, like a bell ringing. Now, it sounded mocking, forced, fake. For all I knew, she was already seeing my brother.

"Don't worry. You could use a sugar high," she smiled. "What flavour do you want?"

I hadn't been able to hold back the smile. "I don't care, I really don't."

"Strawberry, then. It's my favourite."

.

And it was my favourite from then on, too. I hadn't really had a favourite before that. I could have counted the number of times I'd had ice cream as a kid on one hand. It just wasn't my thing, until that moment.

"It's not my thing," I murmured. Drinking the last of my tea, I put the mug in the sink. The moon shone brightly through the window and it caught my eye. Just for a second, I forgot my previous thoughts and stared, mesmerized, by the moonlit scene outside.

That's not even real moonlight, I told myself, looking away. The moon is stealing the light from the sun and making it seem it has its own light. It's theft, that's what it is. Theft...

I walked to the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed, hoping the room's atmosphere would persuade me to become sleepy. There I sat for a few hours, along with my thoughts, until the sun started to rise. I sighed, realizing how tired I had finally become, and was quick to fall asleep.

The ice cream craving was long gone by then.