- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
This was my first fic, written post-"Goodbye, Toby." I'm posting it now because my "fanfiction" filter on LJ is kind of small, and I'm okay with other people reading my writing now. This is a little harlequin over-the-top, but whatever. I was a little sick of Knight-in-Shining-Armor!Jim and wanted to write him how I see him.

Disclaimer: Not my show, not my characters. You won't get much if you sue me.

*

The humid June day had drawn to a close like each day before it, stretching longer and longer until it reached the solstice. The sun had set what seemed like hours ago, but the sky was still shot with streaks of pink and orange, slowly fading to deep purple. Her windows were open, allowing for a fresh breeze, spoiled a bit by the lingering hint of the fast food restaurants down the avenue. It wasn’t quiet, but the bustle of New York nightlife seemed distant and detached.

Class had gone well – she had impressed her professor with her quick mastery of Photo Shop and put some finishing touches on some of the pieces in her digital portfolio. Initially, she had been afraid of fitting in, for she had always been a small town girl, but the other students seemed to be as out of place as she was. She had quickly made a handful of surface-layer friends with whom she didn’t particularly feel a connection, but whose company she enjoyed. It was with these friends that she usually occupied herself, especially in the evenings.

Tonight, however, she sat alone, golden curls mussed on a musty couch in her apartment. She had attempted to unload her anxiety into an extravagant, colorful sandwich, which had kept her busy for a while. But now it was getting late – she was running out of people to call, shows to watch, things to eat. Keeping busy only displaced her aching mind temporarily, and she knew that. She had simply been hoping that the displacement would span three months. It hadn’t.

Distancing herself from what she wanted most was supposed to make her want it less, or at least, take her mind off of it. Of him. If he would call, she’d put on a cheerful voice, spouting petty questions and answers, but hang up quickly. She knew he sensed there was something wrong, and she was worried he would take it the wrong way. She wasn’t fading, it wasn’t his fault… his humility and propensity to blame himself were often reasons why she loved him, but at times they made her worry.

She didn’t know what it was about speaking to him, truly speaking, made her feel so vulnerable. She had sought her independence so long that now she that she had it, she found it difficult to stake her hopes in someone else; to fall, with complete trust, into someone else’s arms. Of course, things hadn’t been this way at home. She told him everything, depended on him for everything. They could laugh and weep together, touch and feel together. But now, though they weren’t too far apart, it felt different. She worried, as she had been doing far too frequently, that she was handling the only test their relationship had had with such weakness and distance. He, on the other hand, who had vested all his faith in their relationship, seemed to be coping brilliantly.

That was part of her apprehension to call him. His genuine happiness for her would just sadden her, because she wasn’t happy here. His voice and his concern would break further her heart and make her miss him increasingly more, although abstaining from calling him did the same. She didn’t want to hear are you okay? or do you want me to come there?, because he would, and that would make it worse. She glimpsed at the telephone as if it were a crime and sighed deeply, releasing days of frustration. Would it make it worse?

The sky had grown darker, the breeze cooler. The entire city was all lights now. She pulled out a small yellow blanket that reminded her of him, as many things did. After several failed attempts to lull herself to sleep, she sat up. The phone stared blankly at her, as it always did. Eyes closed, she dialed the number she knew too well. It rang twice.

“Good evening, Miss Beesly, this is James Halpert speaking,” answered a deep, rich voice in a formal tone. She could feel his grin though the line. Tears began to gather in her eyes, but she kept them in.

“Hello, Mr. Halpert,” her voice cracked, and she knew he noticed. Regretting this call already, she braced herself for the inevitable question.

There was a silence.

“How may I help you?”

She released the breath she had been holding. “I… would like to make a reservation,” she said, unsure of where this was going.

Silence again. “For the Hotel Halpert?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice that softened her. Of course I want to see you.

“Yes.”

“For when?”

She didn’t know what she was doing, but out escaped a “tomorrow.” “If – if that’s possible,” she added, voice strong, eyes weak. She closed them, leaning into the couch, setting forth restrained tears to roll from her flickering lashes down her cheek.

“Oh, it’s possible,” he said breathlessly, trying to hold on to his formal manner.

She pulled the blanket in closer, loosened her grip on the receiver, and softly spoke, “Good.”

A few seconds passed as she listened to his anxious breathing, eyes still closed. He wanted her to say something. She imagined him next to her, sharing the blanket and kissing her wet cheek, his hands on her arm.

“I love you,” she said, and hung up before he had a chance to reply.


amorous is the author of 3 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 5 members. Members who liked The Air You Took also liked 516 other stories.


You must login (register) to review or leave jellybeans