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.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This was written in the span of about ten minutes.
Loosely inspired by Michael Buble's "At This Moment", as was the title.
Please don't throw things at me. :)
Loosely inspired by Michael Buble's "At This Moment", as was the title.
Please don't throw things at me. :)
Never in a million years. Never would Jim Halpert expect Pam, of all people, to be the leaving type.
But now, she stood before him in what should be their bedroom. With a packed suitcase and a protective hand around her waist. Her signature stance when she was unsure about something.
“I just- I can't be here right now. Mayb-… maybe some other time. But right now, I can't be here.”
He looked around their bedroom, vacant of her belongings, as she struggled to handle the suitcase. As foolish as it was, he took the suitcase from her hands as she completely turned away. He walked down the hallway and into their living room.
It was heavy. He wondered what she actually put in it because he can't remember clothes holding so much weight. Jim likes to believe the rattling sound was their memories together. The weights of their memories together were the only weights that were holding her there.
Pam walked far behind him. A fleeting fear in her eyes. He couldn’t understand what was happening or why she was so scared around him.
Then it clicked. The last time she left, there were objects shattered and hurtful words for her to bear.
How, after all this time, could she expect that from Jim? He could never hate her, hurt her or curse her. He loved her too much. Even as she was leaving, he loved her so much it hurt him.
“Is… is there someone else?” It wasn’t a completely ridiculous question.
“No, Jim. Of course there isn’t.” Pam was on edge. If he pushed her too hard, she would be in a heap of tears.
“Well, it’s not like it would be the first time.” Jim hated himself, because even in the worst moments of his life, his joking manner seems to find its way to the surface.
Pam looked like she had taken a punch to the gut.
Jim wasn’t the kind of guy that shouted. He was by no means a fighter. He only ever considered doing the two when Pam was concerned, when those that he loved the most were concerned.
Jim had never yelled at Pam before. Not when she rejected him on Casino Night, not when she blurted out her feelings on their Company Beach Day, not when she stayed quiet while Alex tried to convince her to stay at Pratt. Now, Jim had every right to shout. And yet, he could barely fathom the strength to talk at all.
“Why? Why Pam?” His voice faltered on her name like it was a foreign language. His tear ducts failed him. “Why now? After all this time…” Voice shaking, he spoke in hushed tones. He couldn’t fight the tears any longer, and they began to slide down his face. At that point, he didn’t think they would ever stop.
“Pam. What changed? Jus-…wha-…ho-… Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, Pam. I promise.”
Pam said nothing. Out of fear that it would sound like she was leaving because of him, but the truth was that she was leaving because of herself. She was taking too much while not giving Jim enough.
He sat with his head in his hands. It didn’t register that he was sitting on the floor now. He had slid down the wall. He heard the creak of their front door, the hinge he forgot to oil. At six foot four, he had never before felt so small.
He leaned against the far wall of their house. Never before having felt so lost. So he sat. Against the far wall of his parent’s house, a broken man.
Jim opened his eyes solely to look down at the floor, lacking the strength to watch her walk away. His t-shirt was tear soaked, reminding him of the last time he cried like this, the last time he walked away without putting up a fight.
The screen door shut with the smallest click he ever heard and he followed the sound of the suitcase wheels to the car. Doors open and shut, the engine turned over.
“Don’t.”
