AN: I'm posting a bunch of new stories at the same time to gauge interest. I'm going to post a poll on my profile - please vote for the story you like the most because that's the one I'm going to focus my time and energy on currently! Thanks!
Emily closed her eyes tightly as the sky light up with bang, coloured light spilling in the bedroom window in a stark contrast to the darkness overwhelming her mind. Don't cry, she urged herself, Do not cry. Emily Prentiss never let herself show weakness, even when she probably should.
The bed shifted with Clyde's movement and even with her eyes closed and her back turned to him, she knew he was studying her intently, silently evaluating her. Somehow, she knew that he knew. He always knew.
Do. Not. Cry.
"You need help, Em..." he said gently. "You need to see someone."
For a moment, she considered not responding and pretending to be sleeping, but she didn't want him to take her silence as agreement. "Don't, Clyde," she hissed, "Just don't."
"You think you're fooling anyone?" he retorted, just as sharply. "You can see it from a mile away..."
"Why are you still here?" She flopped back on the bed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She hoped that by starting an argument about her pushing him away, he might be distracted from the topic at hand. She still didn't look at him.
It was the one rule in their relationship, if it could be called that. They never stayed after sex. There was no cuddling, no pillow talk, no post-coital declarations of love. Only sex and the scramble for clothes that followed. They never spent the night.
"You used to have more tact when it came to changing the subject," he informed her.
"And you used to last more than two minutes," she snapped cruelly. He just laughed, making her silently fume. "You're an asshole," she informed him.
"Always have been, love. You're the one who's changed."
"Leave, Clyde." Clutching the sheet to her chest, she leaned over to dig in the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. She didn't necessarily crave one, it was simply an easy excuse to pretend he didn't exist.
"Stop ignoring the problem, Emily. You're going to kill yourself, trying to pretend nothing is wrong."
Something inside her finally broke then, all her pent up anger and frustration and anxiety spilling out at once, even though she knew Clyde wasn't the source of the problem...he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Go to hell, Clyde! And get out of my apartment!"
Outside, the fireworks were still going off and her heart felt like it was trying to claw its way up her throat and out of her mouth. Or maybe it was bile. Either way, something very bad was going to happen soon and she really didn't want Clyde to be there to witness it (confirming all his suspicions about her tremulous emotional state).
Giving in with a roll of his eyes, he started pulling on his pants. "You're burying your head in the sand, Em." As he buttoned up his shirt, he added, "And one day, all these emotions you're ignoring are going to come back to bite you..."
Then, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone as she felt inside.
She was admittedly a little disappointed that he didn't slam the door as he left because all her frustration and inner turmoil might have been worth it if she could've at least gotten him riled up too.