Smile With Yesterday

Oh why couldn't she just have stayed silent? Ignore everything, pretend it's not
there; continue on feeding herself and everyone around her lies. At least things
would stay the same.

"Where are you going?"

That voice, his voice; damn. Misty turned, finding the object of her confusion
standing in the hallway, shifting a can of soda between his right hand and left
hand, trying not to entirely numb his fingers.

"For a walk."

He stopped tossing the beverage and let it rest in his left hand, "This early?"

"Well you're up."

The now-free hand drifted up to rub his neck out of nervous habit, "I was having
trouble sleeping."

Resolve quickly slipping, she looked down to the well-worn hotel carpet, and to
her hastily tied shoes, "I couldn't sleep either."

She couldn't sleep because all the escaped confusion was making her ill. She also
could not tell him about it, nor did he seem eager to divulge the causes of his
own insomnia.

If she did run away, protecting herself from what was most assuredly more agony
and indecision, worry would take its place. Not being able to wake up in the
morning and find him sprawled out on top of his sleeping bag, she'd worry about
where he was. Not being able to laugh at his crazy antics, she'd worry about his
health. Not being able to tell him about everything of interest she'd done all day,
she'd worry about his happiness, and wonder if he ever thought of her.

The small red backpack that held everything of importance slipped from her grasp,
and with four languid steps, she stood directly in front of him. Misty finally
looked up and met his eyes, full of incomprehension, but still warm. Her foggy
mind protested; stupid, illogical girl, don't even think about it, don't make some
selfish mistake.

Heart thumping with force enough to feel the beats in her head, she leaned into
him, pressing her chest against his. Both arms snaked up around his neck, holding
tightly, while she bent her head to rest on a strong, broad shoulder. At first it
felt as if she were hugging a god; some immortal in chiseled flesh, sent down to
be idolized and adored. But then every muscle softened, and after the thunk of
metal on carpet, his arms were around her, hands pressing against her back,
separated only by the fabric of her tee shirt. He bent his head down to rest
against her own, left hand sliding up along her spine, resting at the base of her
neck, smoothing his fingers across the exposed skin. They were still cold from the
forgotten beverage and she shivered, closing her eyes, wanting to feel, not see.

But, neither one could see or feel the will of the other. Both understood their
own motives for the unannounced, lingering embrace, but failed to realize that the
other, could, just possibly, be hiding exactly what they, themselves were. As a
result two words bounced around in their minds -- 'love' and 'friend' -- creating
a bittersweet goo where there once was brain mass.

They would lie to themselves to be happy. Later; later they could confront the
truth they'd just realized. But for now, later is a long, long time away.


Notes and blather: That's the real end, I'm not adding anymore, though actually
each 'chapter' concludes quite nicely. This strange fic-thing is probably the only
thing I've ever written without putting any thought into it. I just sort of, wrote,
each chapter coming out at random times for no real reason. It started out as just
sort of a one-shot 'something' and then I just sort of added more, and now I'm
adding more again. There's no plot, no continuity between chapters, and nothing
really happens, but there you have it, straight from my own twisted mind, to paper,
without any of that 'coherent thought' stuff mixed in.