Summary: He sees her everyday. Some might call it a
schoolboy crush. But anyone who would have bothered to observe him
carefully for a day, curiously following him around and analyzing his
reactions would see it was much, much more than that. He was in love with
her. Janilliot/Ellitor. xD One shot.
Author's Notes: What do people call Janitor/Elliot pairings anyways? They're all weird/gross sounding... [
Anyhoo, my first fanfic ever. You probably hear this alot, but please R/R! I could really use it! Please enjoy my feeble attempts to produce a one shot Scrubs fanfic that does not even measure up to the other fantastic fics out there-Oh dear. I'm quite down on myself aren't I? Uhmm...ENJOY! D -scurries away-
Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show Scrubs or any of the actors in Scrubs. One day, however, I will own Zach Braff. -lustfulsigh- One day...
He sees her everyday.
She doesn't see him most of the time however. Part of the reason because she's so preoccupied with her work -running around, talking to patients, saving lives- or because he has chosen to carefully conceal himself from her.
Some might call it a schoolboy crush. But anyone who would have bothered to observe him carefully for a day, curiously following him around and analyzing his reactions would see it was much, much more than that.
He was in love with her.
Some days when the Janitor felt like absolute crap, one simple glance or smile from her would make his heart skip a beat and adrenaline course through his veins.
A small 'Hello' from her would brighten his mood almost instantly and bring him out of his sorrows.
Just the smell of her floral perfume as she rushed by him would intoxicate him and forget about anything else other than this beautiful siren disguised in blue scrubs.
And whenever she was upset or miserable, his heart would mourn with sorrow alongside with her and cry out at the injustice of the world. Although sometimes, secretly, he was glad of this because it allowed her to confide in him-the lowly Janitor, normally nothing of importance or significance to her- and let him comfort and advise her in return when she was at her most vulnerable.
When the problem was resolved and she had squeezed out her last tears, that last shining smile-directed to him, and only him!- she gave before she left the supply closet would light up the entire room, as if she were a beautiful goddess gracing a lowly mortal with her presence.
And then she would be gone.
And he'd be left all alone.
Sitting on the dirty floor, still holding the handkerchief he'd used to dry her tears.
But he was not completely alone.
Her bright genuine smile was still fresh in his memory.
And he replayed it over and over again in his mind.
Like a small child re watching his favorite movie over repeatedly.
He was absolutely infatuated with her. And she probably didn't even know his name.
He shifted uncomfortably on his side of the bed, trying to ease his thoughts. He felt another movement on the other end of the bed. His wife was awake. He rolled over to face her and found her eyes open and that she was smiling at him. Her short brown hair pooled around her head like a halo on her pillow, making her look like an angel to everyone's eyes. Everyone's but his. His calloused fingers plucked up a strand of glossy dark hair and examined it critically. It was not long and blonde like hers was. And her mouth was wide and friendly, not at all like blonde doctor's small and pixie-like mouth. His wife's almond shaped eyes were a beautiful chocolate brown color; muddy brown actually, in comparison to her bright and striking aqua blue irises. Intoxicating and calming at the same time. You could get lost looking into those sapphire colored eyes.
his wife leaned closer to him and snatched her hair back with the hook of her finger. Then she leaned into kiss him. It was a beautiful, romantic, passionate, sweet, loving kiss. One that Janitor should have enjoyed. Had his heart not been crying out for someone else's embrace.
'Good morning Lady,' he whispered into her sweet lilac scented hair.
'Good morning Janitor.' She giggled at his old nickname. Then she moved to kiss him again. He responded back eagerly, imagining it was her lips he was touching. Her orchid and rose scent her was inhaling. Her slender and supple body he was caressing...
He opened his eyes and found his wife gazing adoringly into his eyes. He returned her wide smile. But his eyes
'I love you." She murmured, falling fast into slumber again. Her eyes were sliding shut but they fluttered, trying to stay open until she heard his words.
'I love you too.' He replied, as though he were an actor reciting from a script.
She sighed a breath of content and soon she was unconscious and sleeping soundly against his shoulder.
The Janitor sighed a sigh of his own. He felt weary, disloyal and completely miserable.In his heart he knew that he was not happy, that he was not satisfied and that he was discontent. Why could he not love this woman? This woman who was his wife. Who was sweet, endearing, honest and so lovely. She was absolutely perfect. Perfect for someone else perhaps.
Maybe it was just in his nature, but he could not help coveting another woman so far from perfection. A tall, frazzled, basket case of a doctor. She had messy blonde hair with dark roots which she had obviously not had the time to dye. She was neurotic, insecure and fragile. She could be absolutely kind and wonderful when she wanted to. But what he loved most of all about her was her tendency to overreact, her amusing way of hysterically swearing when she was upset (Frick,frick,frick!) and her many little quirks about her which all contributed to, and made up, this perfectly-unperfect anxious madwoman under the misguiding name of a doctor.
This woman, who was uptight, irritable and had a tendency to sabotage most of her relationships-for her, he would give up everything he had. His wife, their new three-story home and their 2 year old son. He would give up all that in half a heartbeat just to have her in his arms and live with her in a shabby, dirty apartment with nothing to eat except old boxes of Chinese takeout. To him, that would be utter paradise.
He sighed again, but this time a word escaped his lips before he could stop it. He froze, fearing his wife had heard his whisper. The carelessly uttered words that would give away the object of his misplaced affection. But his wife, his beautiful, loyal wife did not stir. She continued breathing in perfect harmony as before and he slowly relaxed.
She had not heard.
He was safe.
Therefore, his fake affair with his almost lover was also safe.
He must take extra precautions in the future.
He must never foolishly exclaim her name again.
He must try his hardest to love his wonderful wife, and not this familiar stranger who keeps invading this thoughts and redirecting his mind to her.
This woman who was so flawed and defective and imperfect.
So unsuitable and wrong for him.
So inferior compared to his wife.
So captivating and seductive in spite of all her vices. So perfect in her own tragic nature. Like a broken angel, she calls to him now.