You flew away.
You disappeared for a bit because you didn’t want to be seen. You believed in second chances, fresh starts. You held on to the idea that the wounds could be mended, that the biterness could be sugar coated eventually. You contented yourself with easy solutions.
You found yourself at a better job, a better position, a seemingly bright and shiny future. You worked hard to be in the place you were. You started focusing more on your work, you were more polite. You bit your nails when important sales were about to be done, worked overtime, decided to postpone your holidays because it was August and you had to convince twelve schools that Dunder Mifflin could fulfill their paper related needs.
You met Andy, and it reminded you of Dwight. You met him and it kind of made you feel less alone, it reminded you of the happy shiny moments in Scranton, the pranks and the chats by the watercooler. You did make astounded faces at the camera whenever Andy did one of those scary stunts or stupid remarks. Thing is that deep down he was able to grant you memories of a better time.
You met Karen. She was beside you, always, wasn’t she? Fierce and sweet and confident and feisty and funny and everything you were looking for in a woman. You invited her to drinks after work. She knew where the clients’ files were so you asked her. She was the guiding light in the dark sea, the lighthouse. She offered you her muffin on that break and a shoulder for you to cry on.
But no.
No, you couldn’t convincingly lie to yourself.
Stamford was not a home. An empty house is not a home. Broken hearts demand so much more.
You flew away and you escaped.
You left and forgot for a second.
Your mind drifted to Scranton the next one.
* * *
One kiss was simply not enough.
She moisted her lips and got what she wanted. She didn’t hold her horses. She attacked and she conquered you. You surrended almost instantly at her touch. You put your hands around her waist and gathered her in a hot embrace. You didn’t think you’d find an exit at this point but she seemed like a good one.
One road to numbness, the rocky path to oblivion. You relaxed and reckoned this was your opportunity to finally start finding yours. She smiled and you smiled back. She started talking about more hidden places and hotel rooms and bottles of champagne and strawberry and whipped cream and mint flavored condoms and you nodded.
You said yes.
Yes, because you were tired of the loneliness. Yes, because your lips had said ‘no’ too many times by now. Yes, because she was here and she was there. Yes, because you cared for her.
No, you didn’t want to think about the future. No, you didn’t want to think about long nights and half smoked cigarettes. No, you didn’t want to think of Michael, of Dwight, of P…aper.
No, you weren’t thinking clearly.
No, you didn’t consider she would want more after that night. You whispered and moaned and she buckled her hips into you and nailed her red fingernails into your back. You felt her warm breath on your neck. You squeezed her breasts, caressed her clit and flooded right into her and thought that was it.
Yes, you thought she would be content with this. No, you didn’t consider she would demand a proper relationship.
But one kiss was simply not enough. Twenty two kisses wouldn’t suffice. Three orgasms weren’t exactly what she wanted.
She wanted to have breakfast in bed and share a shower. She wanted a simple life, settle down. Make an appointment with her ob-gyn. Batches of chocolate chip cookies and lemonade on Saturdays. She wished for someone who would wake up by her side the next morning.
You were driving back home by 3am.
* * *
You faked it. You faker.
You went this far. You never thought about leaving. That’s a stupid thing to do. You wanted this.
Please, don’t lie to yourself.
You went this far. You couldn’t abandon her. That was a stupid thing to do.
You were scared. You were sure of that. You didn’t think about leaving. You had already left.
Then the merger happened and you wanted to avoid Scranton like the plague. Next week you were found defenseless and fragile holding Karen’s hand in front of the door which could bring you to your old life.
A knot in your stomach when you turned the handle.
A redhead woman in a really cute grey lambwool sweater smiling at you. Sweet cheeks flushing. Lip gloss. Perfect white teeth. Big soft breasts.
An aching sensation inside your brain, fear of losing grip. A total lack of coordination. A bitter taste in your mouth.
But you faked it. You faker.
You smiled and hugged her.
You choked back tears.
* * *
You were not the kind of guy who’s supposed to be in love with two people at the same time.
You were the tall cute guy with an incredible charisma and the witty humor. The one who brought chips to girls and laughed with them, and invited her to dinner in the rooftop.
You were never supposed to be trapped in a nightmare.
You were the good guy. The nice guy. You didn’t like wallowing in self pity. Now all bets are off.
Like it or not, you had feelings for her. And it was undeniable, so inevitable that you couldn’t even consider lying to yourself because it would have been the equivalent of smearing acid over your skin and pretend it was suncream.
Like it or not, you knew she knew. You had the certainty that Karen knew something was happening. Mexican parties and wall-punching jokes aside the evidence was touchable and tasty. Your love towards the other girl was like spotting an elephant in a garage.
It obviously didn’t make you feel any better.
She wanted to talk. You wanted to overlook it. She had questions. You did not want to give the answers. She told you you’d have to hear her anyway.
The first night you had a discussion. She left home at 1am. You were in bed thirty minutes later. Sleep didn’t find you.
The second night you argued. The broken frame of the picture in your living room was a witness. You didn’t want to talk to Kevin about yours the next day. Pam looked at you and sensed and knew, because she always knew. She abstained from doing anything though.
You were never supposed to love another woman.
You were never supposed to love another woman but Pam.
* * *
You broke up with her. She slapped your face so hard your cheeks trembled.
‘I hate you.’
I love you.
‘I don’t want to see you again.’
Such a shame this didn’t work. I was stupid to think it would. He had never stopped loving her.
‘Fuck off, Jim. Just… fuck off.’
I love you. I love you.
But it’s over.
We’re done.
You had to be held accountable for all this pain. For hurting two women at the same time. For being an idiot and an immature.
She wouldn’t let you wipe away the tears from her cheeks.
‘Go away, Jim. Just… leave me alone. I hate you.’
The worst thing is that she loved you.
* * *
You were born and you were raised and you went to school and you learned things. They told you to be polite. They told you to be faithful. They told you to avoid making mistakes. They trained you to be the perfect human being.
They would probably judge you now if they knew what you’ve done. They’d probably desert you and ban you from their lives.
You were taught to love and you were taught to help.
You were always bound to do the right thing.
Now you know that’s not true.
Now you know that all of that is a lie.
Because hell broke loose and you cheated and you lost track of all your words, all the lessons you were supposed to remember.
You find yourself not knowing much now.
But one thing you do know. You know that you are in love with her. You know that you want to keep and carry her in your life.
And it’s more than enough.
You are tumbling down, beside her. And she’s half asleep and naked and molding your chest absently with her hand through the layers of unconsciousness. Your nose is buried into her hair and your fingers are stroking soft tendrils of it behind her ears.
You forgot all the things you were taught but if there’s one thing you are sure of is that you want her. That you love her.
So you repeat that softly, to her.
She smiles into your neck.
You need to mend your life, you have to apologize to many many people out there. They deserve it. It’s going to be really hard.
But she’s draped across from you and she’s sneaking her hand into your underwear. And she’s mumbling ‘I love you’ back. And the assurance that you sort of got your happy ending makes you smile.
You lost everything.
You won her.
And she is everything.
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.
Also, feedback is my heroin. For realz.
Also, feedback is my heroin. For realz.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is my third fic and I think it's the best one I've written. Hope you like it.
Chapter End Notes:
I reckon this was probably really really angsty. I don't know if the happy ending makes up for all the angst. I really hope you enjoyed. Feedback makes me happy. :D
Sea Legs is the author of 2 other stories.
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