Collide
Written by Tears of Mercury
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. If I did, Peter would have been written out before he was ever written in. Nor do I own "Fix You" by Coldplay, which was uber-helpful while writing this chapter.
A/N: The majority of the story will be still be first-person Emma POV, but Sean will definitely get his scenes as well. And this is just a side note: I swear that I didn't intend to make Craig such a central part of this story! He just kind of forced his way in. Don't freak out; there aren't any Cremma/Eman triangles on the horizon, but he does play a very important part in the story. And you've been warned: the beginning of this chapter seems slightly filler-ish. It's in there for reasons that won't make a lot of sense until later on in the story. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Read and review.
I'm jolted out of my sleep when a heavy, bony body suddenly pounces on top of mine. My first reflex is understandable; most people would hit the closest body part as hard as they could. He rubs his shoulder and sends me the wounded puppy dog look that I've become so accustomed to over the years. "Craig! Get off of me!"
"If there had been any other way to wake you up then I would've done it. I swear, Emma, you sleep like a rock on sedatives," he grumbles, tripping over his feet as he gets up.
"Why are you here in Toronto? You were supposed to be back in Vancouver by now doing publicity for your record. An even better question is why you're here in my basement, if you wouldn't mind enlightening me." Craig rubs his hands together as a devilish grin comes over his face.
"I'm going to bust you out of this prison and get you away from Peter, Manny, your mom, and that little demon you call a half brother for the day. It's been too long since we've had any Craig and Emma time," he asserts. I shoot him a long-suffering look and make my way out of bed in slow motion, stretching and yawning once I reach the bathroom door.
"If you're taking a day off, shouldn't you be spending it with your girlfriend? I'm already having problems with Manny; I don't need her mad at me because her boyfriend chose to spend his get out of jail free day with me instead of her. Besides, I never agreed to any of this." I'm pouting by the end of my little speech, and I know that it must not be very attractive. Thankfully, that's never been a worry of mine around Craig.
"You didn't have to; I decided for you. As for Manny, we had a long talk last night about all of this, and she spent the night. She understands completely," Craig says, stepping towards the stairs and grimacing as I spit out a wad of toothpaste. "I'll be expecting you in five minutes. Please try to make yourself look vaguely human by that time." I toss the plastic toothbrush holder after his retreating back, only allowing a reluctant, indulgent smile after he's gone.
-0-0-0-
"A White Stripes concert. This is your idea of fun?" I demand, looking around uncomfortably. I look like an Old Navy commercial compared to most of the people here. Craig fits right in, naturally. The only explanation that I can come up with is that my ticket was meant for Ellie but she backed out at the last minute; I must have been the only replacement he could find. He glances over and makes his most convincing expression, grabbing me by mid-forearm and helping me through the crowded outdoor stadium. It's a huge, all-day music festival, he explained to me earlier. We only have tickets to see this band, but isn't it awesome? Despite my reservation, Craig's enthusiasm, although not contagious, is endearing.
"Yes, it is. More importantly, it's a group that you would never normally listen to playing at a place that you would never normally be at," he states, raising his eyebrows and waiting for the flash of comprehension to hit me and compel me to shower him with thanks. I stare at him blankly for a good twenty seconds before he sighs and waves his now free hand around. "No one here knows you. There aren't any stares or whispers; you're just like everyone else." I smile, touched at what a sweet gesture it is. Of course Craig would understand the need to fade into the background and be just another face in the crowd.
"So when do they start?" I ask, having to raise my voice over the collective rumbling of the hundreds of conversations swirling around us. A microphone turns on and an electric guitar plays the first chord. He turns to me and shrugs.
"Right now!" Everyone starts screaming and clapping and jumping, and even though the music is too loud, the lead singer's voice too scratchy, it's the most wonderful thing in the world to feel like I'm part of something again.
As the concert comes to a close, he drags me to a back table and purchases me a t-shirt, claiming that I need at least one concert t-shirt if I'm going to be cool enough to hang out with him. I almost spray the coke I've bought moments before out of my nose in an effort not to laugh. It seems that the idea isn't anywhere near as funny to him, and he sticks his tongue out before handing over the money -- despite my protests -- and presenting me with the t-shirt. I give him a slight hug as a thank-you and slip it on over my original shirt. He leads me outside and we walk until we find a small diner to eat at. I can't shake the feeling that I've been here before from the moment I walk in to the second I'm handed the menu and seated at a window booth, but I have no idea when I would have come here before or with who.
"Okay, the biggest hamburger you have with the basket of fries and a coke," Craig decides, setting down the menu. It smacks as it hits the table and I jump slightly. I hate this part of going out with Manny or Peter for obvious reasons, and apparently the feeling isn't any different with Craig. I bite my lip and look down defiantly. I promised myself that I would be good after Wednesday night last week. I can do this. I can.
"I'll have… uh… do you guys have any salads?" I inquire. The waitress, an old, chubby woman who must be in her mid sixties, sends me an amused look.
"Honey, it's pure grease and fat here," she teases, chuckling slightly. My stomach lurches at the words and Craig raises his hand in the air, dropping it and smoothing it out to tap the table. I notice his knee jogging up and down and realize that he's just as uneasy as I am. When will I stop alienating and worrying the people that used to have fun with me?
"You know what? I'll take the same thing that he's having, only give me a slice of cheesecake instead of the hamburger," I blurt out. Craig looks like a little kid who's just seen fireworks on Independence Day for the first time. The waitress scribbles the order down and shuffles away. I offer Craig a shrug. "It's better than the pure grease and fat special that she offered." He throws his head back and laughs and I grab a napkin from the napkin dispenser, swatting him with it.
Suddenly it hits me: I've been here before with Sean. We were supposed to see a movie, but it wasn't playing at the usual theater we went to so we came this way. By the time that we realized that we were lost it was time for dinner, so we'd come in here and messed around, playing and laughing and binging on fries that I suspected was going to send us into cardiac arrest on the spot. It was a good day, one that had somehow been misplaced in the shuffled deck of memories that I selected after everything went downhill.
"I knew that you had it in you. You just needed people to get off your damn back for awhile," he comments, tracing the edge of the napkin before ripping the paper up into strips. It takes longer than it should to consider what he's said. Could I really be better, different, if people got off my case? Can I even be trusted without the constant supervision? I certainly didn't do too well without it the last time I had that much freedom.
"Is Manny still really mad about last night?" I whisper. In the back of my head I can't help but think that he must be surprised to see anything but an ice queen exterior from me. I know that that's all people ever see from me anymore; all they expect. Craig sighs and leans back in the bench, frowning slightly as he tries to form the right words.
"She was never mad. She just… Manny worries about you so much, between Peter and everything else, and it hurts her when you push her away. She doesn't understand that there are some wounds that still haven't scarred over, and talking about it with you like that is the equivalent of rubbing salt on them. All she wants is for it to be as easy as possible for you to stay on track." I had easy all summer, I want to tell him. Easy almost killed me. I can't deal with everyone's brand of help anymore; not Spike's, not Manny's, and definitely not Peter's. "Plus, with Sean back and everything hitting the fan in that arena, she was kind of dazed for most of yesterday," he adds, grinning a little.
"Manny told you about the Sean situation," I deduce, groaning slightly. I'd known that the gossip would start once he turned up at school and we hung out there, but I had hoped that it would be contained until then.
"Actually, Sean told me about the Sean situation. The guy was a wreck yesterday… I'm telling you, it was the oddest mix of angry and pathetic that I've ever seen. At least the two of you got everything sorted out. You know, communication and all that stuff." He waves a hand in the air and suddenly perks up as our food comes. I steel myself for the first bite, hoping that maybe if I start with the cheesecake, everything will go down a little bit more easily.
"Was he mad?" I inquire, slicing my fork through the barely-there tip of the cheesecake. After ten seconds of psyching myself up, I push it into my mouth. It's nauseating, but that's a feeling I've grown accustomed to by now. Craig attempts to talk through the hunk of food in his mouth for a moment, but at my shaking head he pauses, chews, and swallows.
"I wouldn't say mad; more like… impassioned," he offers. I cock my head to the side and he looks at me for a beat before shaking his head.
"Yeah, he was pissed, but not so much at you as at Jay. When I left I was pretty sure that the next time I saw Sean would be to hand him his bail money. He calmed himself down, though." Craig pauses to think for a moment and then his face softens with a smile. "I think that he knew that if he was planning on talking to you again, he'd better at least wait to bash Jay's face in until you two were on speaking terms again. I swear you two go back and forth more quickly than any other couple I know." My shoulders stiffen at the words and Craig stops mid-motion as he realizes his slip-up.
"We're not exactly a couple anymore, Craig," I remind him. "I mean, I love Peter. He was there for me the whole time things were so bad last year, helping me get better," I argue, hating that it sounds more like a recitation than the truth. The boy across from me snorts and shakes his head.
"You mean, helping the problem. You can't honestly think that Manny hasn't noticed you eating less when you're around him." I shovel in a huge bite of cheesecake and swallow it quickly; sometimes if I do it fast I can almost pretend that I'm not eating at all. Or that I'm going to throw it all up afterwards. What Craig says is true, and he's right; I hadn't realized that Manny noticed. When Peter would be wearing my nerves particularly thin, I'd play a game with myself to see how little I could eat without him noticing or prodding me. Sometimes it was over half a meal; other times, when we were talking about him, only a few bites.
"Don't blame my eating disorder on Peter. It's not his fault; it's mine." My cheeks burn hotly as Craig gazes back at me nods.
"You're right. But in my opinion, having that jerkoff around is worse for it than a thousand fights between Sean and Peter," he replies. I can almost convince myself that there's no truth in what he says, that it's his bias towards Peter since the video last year that's speaking. Almost.
"It's not that big of a deal. I can control the situation; no drama necessary." I almost combust when I hear myself say the words; my therapist would just pounce on what's coming out of my mouth today. Thank God it's Craig sitting across from me instead.
"Really, Emma? So what happens when you can't control it? What's left to control then?" Okay, maybe I'm not so thankful that Craig is here.
"You know, I already have a therapist. I don't need another one, especially one spouting second-hand drugstore psychology at me," I spit out.
"Maybe it's exactly what you need. Your current one doesn't seem to be doing too hot of a job," he retorts, jamming a fry into the small catsup container on his plate. I can't believe that he just said that. No one else would say something that offensive so flippantly; you would have to be completely insensitive, completely Craig, to go that far without your blood pressure going through the roof. And completely unconcerned with tiptoeing around the glass house that everyone's erected around me over the past four months. Something about the realization makes me break into a laugh, clutching my sides when they start to burn. It doesn't take him long to join in. People would be staring at us if there were any other people in the restaurant; as it is, the waitress is sending us odd looks.
"Why is it that we never ended up together?" I question him. We both know that I'm not serious, and it somehow makes the air lighter as he gets out of his seat and scoots around to my side, resting my head on his shoulder when we're seated side by side.
"Because between my diagnosed bipolar disorder and your undiagnosed obsessive compulsive and bipolar disorders, it would take an entire drugstore to support our medical needs by the time we had kids," he replies. I smile a little, and for a moment I can't help but wonder how this day would have gone if Sean was the one beside me the whole time. It would have been completely different. Even though I wouldn't trade this day for the world, I wish that there was a way to keep this day and still spend the day with Sean. I have a sinking feeling that we won't get to spend as much time with each other as we might want once school starts again tomorrow; boyfriends don't usually appreciate girlfriends who spend more time with their exes than with them.
That sharp longing for the best of both worlds follows me as I leave the diner with Craig and walk back to where he parked his car this morning. Have eating be effortless and lose weight. Control everything and reap the benefits of letting things be. Have the picture-perfect relationship with the picture-perfect boy and have someone who makes me feel happier, angrier, and worse all-over than anyone else. For a moment the storm clouds that have been looming in the sky all day seem ready to burst, and I look up for an answer. Instead they simply stay in place and Craig tells me that there's one more place that he wants us to visit before he takes me home.
-0-0-0-
"Craig, no! I'm not going to your support group!" I yell, stalking off in the other direction. He runs after me and spins me around.
"Just calm down, will you? It's for me, okay? I wanted to say hi to everybody, and since I never got a chance to say goodbye to Ellie," another reason I don't want to be here, I note, "it would be a favor to me. We'll be in there five minutes tops, and if it gets to be too intense than you can just wait in the game room or go and sit out in the car, okay?" We both know that it's a shabbily veiled trap, but he did set aside the better part of the day for me and manage to cheer me up. It would be immature and more than a little ungrateful to give him a hard time about this. After a moment I sigh in resignation and walk towards the room, an ecstatic Craig babbling about how I'm not going to regret this tagging along after me.
From the moment that we get into the room I can tell that it's going to be crap. The kids and the group leader look normal enough, but someone is crying. I'm bad enough with seeing my parents and Manny cry; going through it with a bunch of strangers isn't my idea of an afternoon off. The petite brunette has reassuring, comforting hands laid on both of her arms and someone reaches out to take her hand; most of these people look almost as emotionally exhausted as her.
Craig shuts the door silently, but the barely audible sound draws the attention of a redhead sitting near the end of the circle that's close to us. She looks up and then makes a mad dash across the room, jumping into Craig's arms as a smile lights up her face. "Craig! I can't believe that you came. I thought that you had to be back in Vancouver by now!"
"And miss saying goodbye to you? Besides, Emma and I needed to spend some quality time together," he replies, smiling as they draw away from each other. I can barely contain a smirk when I see Ellie's expression. I'm not really sure if it's the fact that I'm here or the fact that when Craig had a chance to spend the day with a girl that wasn't Manny and spent it with me instead of her that makes her look like he's just spoken in a foreign language. A bunch of completely uncalled-for comments come to mind, but I bite them back and lift the corners of my mouth up in a passable grimace and wave slightly.
"Hi, Emma." Before things can get any more awkward, people start greeting Craig and he introduces me as his "pseudo cousin slash step sister." Room is made in the circle and I sit down uneasily next to Craig and a boy who looks to be fourteen or fifteen and about as thrilled to be here as I am. After Craig catches everyone up on how he's doing, the attention shifts to a lanky, thin raven-haired girl. Her dark eyes cloud as she leans her head in her hands.
"I'm exhausted. I have panic attacks at home, at school, when I try to go out with my friends… it was such a big mistake to go off the medication. Every day I go home so exhausted from trying to hold on that I can barely walk through the front door. I feel like I'm dying, like I've lost all control of myself, and I see myself committing suicide, doing things to myself… I just want it to end." I shift in my seat, hating that any compassion that I might have is overridden by my need to get out of here. When I wasn't so worried about appearances, about myself all the time, I was someone who wanted to help. That person must have disappeared with the twenty pounds I lost last spring that haven't all found their way back onto my frame yet. I refocus my gaze, trying to make myself comfortable in my own skin again. I'm not like these people, I remind myself. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. As I turn my attention back to the meeting and try to focus, though, I'm proven terribly wrong.
"It feels like my body is rejecting food. I'm hideous and huge and eating is like poisoning myself. Every time that I look at food I add up calories in my head. I can't even eat dinner with my boyfriend without slipping off to the bathroom to throw away half the food on my plate on the way there…" Words that mirror my own past actions and many of my present thoughts float around me, taunting me. Equal measures of panic and betrayal rise up in my chest as I grind my teeth, no longer listening. As the girl goes on, I spring from my chair.
"This is your idea of a favor? You're more of a head case than I thought," I hiss at Craig before storming out. He follows me, trying to get me to turn around.
"Emma, I'm sorry. I thought that it might help, having someone to identify with. I know that I wasn't as honest as I should have been with you, but I just wanted you to give it a chance first, and I didn't think that that would happen if you knew what it was right off the bat," he pleads. I spin around to face him.
"You're right; I wouldn't have given it a chance. I'm not like that! I don't have a mental disease! It's pathetic sitting in there and having to be subjected to listening to someone who needs to be committed! And it makes me feel so much better to know that you've drawn some kind of comparison between the two of us! Was this whole day just to get me softened up enough to go in there with you?" All it takes to answer the question for myself is asking it. Of course that was it. Who in their right mind would spend time with Emma Nelson unless it was to get her in some form of therapy or to cart her off to an intervention? Hell, I'll bet Sean's lurking in some shadowy corner just dying to give me the five minute 'you need help' speech.
"It wasn't like that! Honestly, Emma. I just thought that this might help you, you know? Having someone who understands, who isn't going to criticize or judge or get freaked out by things…" I tuck a piece of hair that somehow managed to escape my headband behind my ear and cross my arms.
"Funny; here I was thinking that that person was you." I'm gone before he can say anything, dodging into a nearby ally and coming out onto the other street so that there's no chance of being found. I take off the stupid t-shirt and stuff it into my already-bulging purse, pulling the zipper roughly across. I stop for a moment, taking in an unsteady breath. It's not like this hasn't happened before, not like the day would have been any better if it had been Manny or my mom or Peter. Why am I so upset, then?
For some reason I can't get the day after my break-up with Sean in grade seven when I preached at him for 'going too far' out of my head. Suddenly I understand, and it makes the first tear trickle down my face. I'm upset, I realize, because out of all the terrible crimes that someone can commit against you, the worst way to be disillusioned with someone is to realize that deep down, they don't see you any differently than the rest of the world.
-0-0-0-
I've always loved it when the sun sets on the ocean. It's an almost accidental beauty, like the sun fell into the sky and the water met it randomly and then they looked at the clouds and said, 'did we do that?' It's more powerful than ordinary sunsets, ordinary beauty and ordinary color. And sometimes when all you want is to get away from the ugliness that is your life, it's exactly what you need.
I huddle up closer to the trunk of the tree I'm sitting under and begin to regret not having a jacket with me. How could I have known that I would end up here, though? I wasn't supposed to. "There's a slogan for your life," I murmur to myself, scooting over until I can trace a shape into the sand with my finger. I work at it over and over again, not quite sure what it's supposed to be, only knowing that I can't get it right.
"Emma? Is that you?" It takes me a moment to recognize the voice; I haven't heard Sean sounding that worried and hopeful in awhile. I don't answer as he moves closer. "Shit, Emma. Craig has been beside himself all afternoon while Manny blames him and gets more hysterical by the minute and Spike and Snake get ready to call the police and comb all of Toronto for you." He eases down beside me and runs a hand through his hair, pausing to look over at me. I know that he's waiting for some sort of explanation, but I don't give him one. What would I tell him? How could I possibly smooth things over, make it better? "I was worried, too," he finally says.
"This is the second therapy activity that I've run out on in the span of two weeks," I inform him, still looking straight ahead. I draw my arms further over my knees, making a futile effort to intercept the chill that's setting into my bones.
"You're cold." He takes off his hoodie and wraps it around my shoulders. His movements are tender, his eyes full of concern that I could only tolerate coming from him.
"How did you know to look for me here?"
"Lucky guess, really. We'd tried everywhere else, and I just… I thought that maybe if it meant as much to you as it did to me, I might be right. It's the one place that no one would think to look for you." Besides a van in the ravine, I think, or in a hospital bed hooked up to oxygen because my eating disorder brought on a panic attack.
"Except you," I point out. I look at him, met back by eyes that have somehow come to mirror my own in a way I can't begin to fathom. He rests his hand on top of mine.
"Except for me." It's the perfect place to end the conversation, to say 'let's go home' and get up and let him take me back. I know that he won't make me talk about it if I don't want to; he's always been that way. But for reasons that I will never understand, I can't be as forgiving of myself as he is.
"I just needed to be the only one. If there were other people who went through that, who did that, then in some sense it was… normal? No; that's not it… understandable, I guess. And when the only way that you can get through the day without purging is to drill into yourself that healthy, normal people don't do that, that you're a freak to be so different… I can't take knowing that maybe I'm not so different after all," I say, my voice trembling. His hand closes over mine as I continue. "And, and, it just makes how everyone else sees me so much harder to deal with, because that means that maybe someday I could be who they want me to be so badly, and they might not even be able to see it." I know that what I'm saying isn't making much sense, but maybe it's not supposed to. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
Suddenly my shoulders start to quake and my body starts going through spasms. I try to take in a ragged breath, but a choked, muffled cry comes out instead. Sean pulls me into him tightly and I bury my head in his shoulder, fighting to stop it, turn it off like I always do, but ultimately powerless to close my mouth around the whimpers that keep escaping it. Tears fall furiously and something in the center of my chest squeezes tighter and tighter until I think it's going to make me explode. His hand strokes my hair and he whispers some comforting, indecipherable endearment into my ear, and in a moment I'm gasping for air again.
As sobs gradually turn into softer, more subdued whimpers, I smile at the thought that runs through my mind. This, I remember, is what it's like to cry for real, and I've never enjoyed the awful experience more.
-0-0-0-
When we finally pull up to my house he turns the key in the ignition and waits a moment or two to speak. "Ready?" he asks, and I glance at the front door, which already has people spilling out of it. I nod my head and he gets out before coming over and opening my door for me. Normally I would make some argument about feminism, but tonight it's too cold and I'm too worn out to be anything but grateful. As I stand up I see mom and dad coming toward me, Manny and Craig hanging back unsurely. I turn to face Sean, not knowing how to say goodbye. Before I can say anything at all, he leans in and kisses my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow at school." I nod and move to take off the hoodie, but he shakes his head and lays a hand on my shoulder. "Keep it for tonight. It looks better on you anyway." I smile at him and bite my lip as he gets back into the car and sends me one final glance before driving away. Spike and Snake reach me and Snake doesn't waste any time beginning the mandatory, deserved lecture.
"Emma, what were you thinking? No one had any idea where you were, and we were all worried sick!" I nod and grab one of the ties on the hoodie, twisting it around until it's bunched up in a tight coil.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have," I relent, giving her what's possibly the easiest genuine apology she's ever gotten from me.
"Emma, have you been crying?" Snake asks, taking in my face. His own face is partly shadowed in the darkness surrounding us, the only illumination a weak porch light.
"Yeah, I have," I answer him, ducking my head and trudging to Manny and Craig. I hug Manny first and let her yell, tearful and emotional and angry out of her mind, before I turn to Craig. So now he knows, I muse, what it's like to be on the other end of a mini-ordeal like this one.
"I couldn't leave before saying goodbye and making sure you were okay," he explains when Manny is done.
"I am. I know that you didn't mean any harm, and I… I'm… I'm sorry for yelling and running out," I apologize. He hugs me tightly for a moment before he turns and motions to a car pulling up.
"It turns out that Sean was right with the time that you guys would be home. That's my ride."
"Go break a million hearts and sell at least as many CDs," I tease him.
"Sure. And just so you know, your new screen saver? I can keep a secret." I suddenly remember that I never took down the picture of Sean and I from last night and groan slightly. He smiles and we hug again before he goes over to say goodbye to my parents. His goodbye with Manny takes five minutes, at least three of which are spent kissing heavily and two of which are spent with her crying and him struggling to hold it together. When he finally hops into the car he offers a wave before it's out of sight, and I turn and hug Manny, glad that for once I'm not the cause of her tears. It may have been a long day for me but it's going to be a long night for her. When we're finally settled in bed, she turns on her side to look at me and frowns slightly.
"Em, promise me something?"
"Anything for you," I reply.
"Promise that the next time you fall off the face of the earth you'll take me with you." We both know that she isn't just talking about today, and it makes the moment even sweeter when I reach out and grip her hand.
"I swear."
Thanks To:
BeautifulxDreamer – thanks for the kind words! I try to be true to the show and the characters in my writing.
Samitiny
MHxxPAPER Doll – I'm glad to hear that you think the story is getting better. I'm curious to see what you'll think of this chapter. If you were disappointed that Sean wasn't in it all that much, don't worry; he'll have some substantial space in the next chapter.
Jazzy Raveler – thanks for the long review! And I completely understand about not wanting to get spoiled… if Degrassi hadn't been gone so freakin' long I might have tried the spoiler-free route myself. Past the two of them meeting, though, I'm really not planning on keeping anything that happened in the premiere, especially the (hopefully temporary) sad ending to HCYM. And as far as the reviewer responses go – I just feel like a hypocrite if I ask people to review and don't at least thank them for it, if not reviewing some fic of theirs. This fanfic shouldn't be done for awhile yet.
And thanks to the readers who aren't reviewing! I know that you're out there, and if you feel like dropping a note, awesome, and if not I hope that you're enjoying all the same!