Around midnight or so, when Derek entered her room with a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich with milk, Casey barely stifled her scream, having begun to doze off out of exhaustion.
"God, Case, it's just food." Derek remarked dryly.
"It's not that." She muttered in reply, sitting up and picking at the nonexistent lint on her bedspread, "I'm just really anxious."
He shoved the food in her lap, plopped down beside her, and promptly rid of the milk by gulping it down. Casey simply viewed all of this with a glare. She set the sandwich aside, reorganizing her thoughts and anger for a different time, and looked at him.
"The reason I wanted to talk was—" Casey began, fiddling with her hair.
"Are you breaking up with me?" Derek interjected, "Because if you are, please save the 'I'll spare his feelings' speech for someone who really cares."
Casey gave him a thin smile, devoid of any real emotion, and a glassy stare. "You know, Derek, I don't understand you. For three months, it was great. You kissed me, you hugged me, you acted like you cared, Derek. And now, for over a month, it's like doing any of that…it's like you're scared to care, Derek."
Derek didn't hold her gaze. "Yeah, well," he began lamely, and watched as she took his hand, and suddenly his throat closed up and he couldn't find the words. She was right, of course she was right.
"And then we started fighting, more and more, and I felt like I was losing you. Sure, we made up, but it never lasted long, did it?"
Now's the time to say something, Derek, and you're not and I don't understand why. She felt tears threatening to spill. Casey sighed, trying to clear the wavering of her voice, and took her hand from his.
She had to be strong, now, if this was how he was going to respond. "I was going to tell you that Paul wanted to talk to us together, so we could think of more positive ways to communicate instead of screaming at each other all the time. But clearly, since you don't care, it's not something you'd want to waste your time with, so never mind. There's the door, use it."
"Casey…Casey, I'm sorry." He sighed, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to answer her, "It's just difficult, Case."
"You're sorry…" Casey echoed flatly, "…and it's difficult."
She paused again, and whispered, "Just tell me the truth. When you sat here in my bedroom, you told me to stop overthinking and just give in because you wanted it too, was that a lie? Or is this about getting the one girl no one thought you would, Derek? Well, you did. But we're not working anymore, and I'm tired of fighting."
Her voice broke at the edge of his name, and he stood up, ignoring the clatter of the plate on the floor. He didn't want her to think that, she couldn't, and he tried to say it but panicked when she realized what she was doing.
"Casey, no, no, no." He put his arms around her, murmuring it so intensely, she almost listened to him. Almost.
She hugged him back, briefly, though it pained her to do so. "Just go, Derek. Please."
Derek, at the end of the night, was left with a sandwich he was no longer hungry for, and fifty million emotions hitting him all at full force.
He found himself aware of two things.
Casey had broken up with him.
And he was stupidly, ridiculously, pathetically, in love with her. It terrified him.
How had he fallen in love with her? The question hit him hard and heavy, and sharp and painful, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe.
He had to calm down, he had to get himself alright again, but all he could do was fixate on the feelings in his chest.
It wasn't supposed to end this way. He wouldn't let it end this way, he was going to fix it.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Paul considered himself a fairly calm person in the face of unexpected events. Objective during the most stressful of times, with an ability to facilitate solutions quickly.
All of this confidence, however, quickly was forgotten the moment he heard a knock on his door just as he had arrived for classes to start. It was the kind of timing he could only attribute to one person.
"Come in," he murmured, looking around for a box of tissues, "How'd the talk go, Casey?"
"Not that great," responded a flat voice. A voice that Paul was certain was not Casey, but the ever sarcastic and cocky Derek Venturi.
He suddenly wished he had Casey in his office—he knew how to deal with Casey. Derek could be a headache.
Nonetheless, he straightened up in his chair, and motioned for the boy to sit down. He looked quite terrible, but the counselor chose not to mention this.
"I can't say I expected you to come here. I suppose Casey managed to convince you somehow?"
Derek looked like he wanted to snap at him, but held his tongue. "What exactly has she told you? About…what's going on?"
Paul sighed. "I'm not allowed to share that information with other students, Derek, I'm sorry."
The hockey player scowled, but thought about the answer for a moment. She hadn't told Paul, not everything. It was obvious. But did he want to?
"Anything I say, you can't tell anyone? Especially Casey?" He asked sharply.
"Yes. I would never share what you tell me in confidence with anyone, provided it doesn't regard something illegal." The counselor said, as warmly as he could.
The boy across from him regarded him very seriously, and with bitterness in his mouth, told Paul the truth.
"Casey and I were fighting so much because we were dating, except we had to keep it this stupid secret, and things got worse because I'm an idiot—but let's be fair here, she kind of is too sometimes—and she broke up with me because I never talk to her about serious things and then I figured out I'm in love with her and well, I don't want it to be over."
"Uhm." Paul uttered in surprise, unsure of what to say.
"You're the Amazing Paul, you're supposed to help me fix it," Derek supplied dryly, waving his hands like a magician.
Paul forced himself to disengage from the shock he was experiencing. "I'm guessing you've been dating for a while."
Derek stared at him with a sardonic look suggesting Paul was Captain Obvious.
"You were fighting because you began to care more for her. You didn't know how to show it because you've always expressed yourself through fights. But part of you, part of you finds it wrong, I would imagine, so you pushed her away. You want to control how you feel, Derek, and play the game you've been playing for too long—there's a safety in it, and in the end, you're just like Casey."
"Excuse me?" Derek asked derisively, wondering if going to Paul was the right choice.
"Casey's fighting for control because she wants to know the future, and you just don't make sense to her. She doesn't have the luxury of logic and practicality when it comes to you, Derek. You were unexpected from day one, you never fit in her plans, and this relationship was making her even confused and anxious. Casey's…delicate when it comes to dealing with the unexpected."
"Right, we all know this, she gets upset when her favorite TV shows change their timeslots. But you know Casey, and how her weird brain works. What do you expect me to do?"
"Tell her how you feel."
This appeared to be an answer Derek did not care for, as he rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "I'm here for a solution that isn't the obvious, Paul. So having no feelings talk, that'd be great. Anything else?"
"Yes, Derek. Let her go. Let her find someone else. If you can't challenge your own discomfort on this matter, it won't work. Maybe it's for the best." Paul said the last line idly.
Derek's eyes flared. "That isn't true."
"It isn't?" Paul asked innocently.
"We're…we're…fine together."
Paul snorted. "Fine?"
"Okay, okay!" Derek said, "We're great together. God."
"And?" Paul prodded, "Just being great with you isn't enough, Derek. She has to know how you feel."
Derek slipped. Something in him cracked, and he took a deep breath.
"She does this thing with her hair when she's concentrating, y'know, and twirls it around her finger, and it drives me crazy. And her eyes, her eyes are just so alive, one look from her makes me feel so whipped, which sucks, because I hate feeling whipped, and when she kisses me my mind goes blank and I realize if I'd never have to think again and just stay in that moment forever—" he stopped, before any more ridiculous notions came out of his mouth, red creeping up from his neck.
"Derek," Paul began gently, "there's nothing wrong with caring for someone, certainly not with loving someone. Pushing it away isn't going to make it go away. Just because you don't necessarily feel comfortable being romantic all the time, or speaking about your feelings doesn't mean you can't care about someone. It's up to you how you choose to display your romantic and intimate feelings, but when you have a significant other, you need to know that sharing things like that is absolutely vital in a relationship."
That was all well and good for someone who didn't appear to understand the threat of the matter. Loving someone didn't always turn out to be sunshine and roses, it was work, work he had been happy to go without for the longest time.
Until Casey, who just made it difficult in general.
Derek groaned. "Save me the Dr. Phil crap, please."
"Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Derek?" Paul asked seriously.
"Yeah," Derek sighed. "I need to talk to Casey about my feelings. Are you sure there isn't some brownie recipe I can try instead? Maybe get her a kitten? A new planner?"
"This is Casey we're talking about, right?" Paul asked, raising an eyebrow.
Derek snorted. "Right. Yeah. She likes to make it difficult."
"So, what do you think you're going to do?"
"This better work, Paul." He responded, ignoring the question.
Paul suspected it would. Or rather, he was hoping it would.
The bell rang signaling the end of homeroom, and he got up, stopping before he opened the door.
"Hey Paul?"
"Yes, I'll let your teacher know you were with me." Paul sighed, with a smile.
Derek pressed his lips together, as though that wasn't what he was thinking about. "Thanks."
The door closed silently.
Paul sighed. "Good God, their children are going to be nightmares. I'm switching schools as soon as these two graduate."