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He waits by the window, the warm summer breeze touching his face gently as it swirls through the screen into his living room, flitting here and there careless to the tense watchfulness etching its way into his bones.
He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. But he’s sure he’s been waiting for longer than he’d care to admit.
He glances down at his hands, clasped tight together in his lap. He’s never really liked his hands, but he doesn’t know why. It’s just one of those things. He starts picking carelessly at his thumbnail, as if picking will ease this ardent dislike.
He’s restless, waiting.
He stands suddenly, striding into his small, taupe kitchen snatching a glass from the open cabinet and sticking it haphazardly under the faucet, spraying himself a little as he turns it on. He returns to the living room, placing the glass of water on the coffee table having not taken even the smallest sip. He knows he made the effort to get a glass of water just to prove he can still control his own movements. That he isn’t completely paralyzed with the weight of everything that had occurred hours before.
He had told her everything. She had said no. Twice. Yet here he sits. Waiting for something.
He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. But he’s sure he’s been waiting for longer than he’d care to admit.
He doesn’t turn on the tv, doesn’t peruse the nearby magazines Mark has left strewn about the living room. He just sits. Waits.
He’s feet tap impatiently. He thinks maybe this time. But he’s thought that before.
He thinks about how incredible she looked tonight; how that, accompanied by her tinkling laughter and her smiling eyes had managed to take complete control over all his mental faculties.
Then he thinks about her face when he said it; when he said “I’m in love with you.”
He tries not to let his imagination run wild with the hope that he had seen affirmation swimming deep below the surface of her stricken green eyes. He tries to focus on what she had said.
But he knows her eyes. Knows how they say what they mean. How they can betray her from one moment to the next.
When he had kissed her, it was in complete desperation. He needed to know, needed her to know what it would be like. What they would be like. She pushed him back, yet all the while her treacherous eyes swore their allegiance to him.
He hopes that maybe her eyes will talk to the rest of her consciousness. Maybe she’ll come around.
Standing again he walks to the window, smelling the residue of evening’s gentle rest on the air. The air almost smells of her. He closes his eyes, breathes deep. He hears the rustle of the newly formed leaves in the trees as the breeze picks up, as if it almost senses his desire to bring it into himself. He holds his breath for a long moment, savoring the flavors of the air as they swirl in his lungs.
He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. But he’s sure he’s been waiting for longer than he’d care to admit.
He exhales when his lungs want to burst. He hears a car door slam and his eyes break open onto the dark night, searching.
He hears laughter of the couple next door as they venture to their house together, the man with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the woman happily laughing, smiling.
He feels the pang in his heart. He would do anything to make her laugh.
The door shuts behind them as they disappear into their happy home, undoubtedly lavishing each other with gifts of extraordinary love and attention.
He feels ill. Still, he waits.
He stares into the blackness of night, breathing steadily, letting the warm night air envelop him in its dark, weighty presence. At least he is not alone in his desperation.
He feels the tears on his cheeks before he knows he’s crying. They seem to have sprung from him of their own volition, determined to make themselves known to the night air. Still he breathes slow, calming breaths.
A crushing weight settles on his shoulders.
He knows she’s not coming; that it would be insane for her come here. He knows he will leave, because it’s all he can do.
So he’s not sure what he’s waiting for. But he’s sure he’s been waiting for longer than he’d care to admit.
~~~~~END~~~~~
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter End Notes:
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