Something
by Nikita
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the great and
powerful Joss.
Author's Notes: Faith’s pov, set somewhere in the near future.
Dedication: David. Don’t listen to me. Life is full of
happy endings and fluffy bunnies. And if not, there’s
always ice cream. Hope this year is better for you
than the last, hon.
Feedback: You give me feedback, I give you cookies.
“Tell me something.”
There are points in our lives, decisions we make, that can change everything. We don’t always know them when they come, we’re not always ready.
But I saw this coming. I dreaded it, and everything my answer would mean.
In her eyes, I see hope pushing through her apparent indifference. I see her try to hold back, scared of what I will say and terrified of opening herself up to the possibility that it will not be what she wants to hear. But hope, stupid as it is, is a difficult thing to kill.
She shrugs as soon as she closes her mouth, an instant reflex to downplay what she has asked me. But everything seems to be stuck in slow motion, her shoulders rising and falling, her hair brushing over my skin, her breathing loud and deep in my ear.
Tell me something...
Yes, it was a question. A question everyone asks sometime, begging for approval, comfort, a plea to be told what they feel isn’t wrong.
It’s not wrong, but there’s a problem. That question makes it all real. It stops everything in its tracks, a crossroads.
Her eyes, bright and green, are penetrating my skin and into my soul. Searching for something she needs to be there.
Propped up on her elbow, she gazes at me. I could pull her to me and let her stay. I could tell her what I feel, what she wants to hear. I want to. It takes all of my will not to. It would be so easy.
My lips seem to tear apart, peeling from each other as I breathe too slowly. I flick my tongue over them quickly, but find it rough from the dryness in my throat.
I feel sick. Sick because I got what I wanted, and now I have to let it go.
I close my mouth again. I don’t trust myself to speak.
I can’t say what she wants to hear.
But it’s better that way. Tell her now, before it’s too late, before she gets too close and I really fuck her up.
Tell her that it means nothing. Nothing.
After all, I know what would happen. We’d giggle, we’d fuck, we’d end up hating each other. There is only one certainty in life.
Sooner or later, everybody leaves.
Postponing the event would only make it worse, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to hurt her more than I have to.
I turn to face her and touch her hair softly, before pulling my hand away. I can’t. It makes too hard.
And I’m doing the right thing.
Though they feel close to cracking, I force a smile onto my lips. “That was great.” I say, gulping down the lump in my throat.
She blinks just once, the hope fading from her eyes as she stares at me. She knows what I’m going to say. What I have to say.
“I’ll call ya.”
I move fast, not to avoid a punch, or even her tears. She won’t cry here. I move so fast to avoid my own, already burning in my eyes.
“Faith?” She whispers, unable to believe what I have said. Why not? This is who I am, what I do. She should know that by now.
“Are you still here?” I say, my hand on the bathroom door as I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t want to be rude, but I like the bed to myself.”
Maybe she’ll scream, make it easier for me to slip back into being Faith, because I don’t feel much like me right now.
But she doesn’t. She gets out of my bed and picks up her clothes. My hand is flat on the door as she walks towards me and lets her fingers reach my hair.
Don’t beg me. Don’t ask me if that’s all it was. I don’t know how long I can stop from crying.
She pauses, her hand gentle against me, her fingers brushing my skin, and she leans in close.
“I hate you.” She whispers.
Good.
Good.
... Good. She should. I hate myself too.
I push open the door and step away from her, closing it behind me.
I did the right thing. It wouldn’t have worked. We would have killed each other slowly by housework and paranoia.
This way, she’ll always be perfect.
My tears slide down my cheeks as I hear the door slam behind her.
She’d never believe me, that I did this for her. That I did it to stop hurting her.
But it’s best this way.
This way, I’ll always love her.