Fading

Death By Office

Song for this chapter is Hello by Adele since it is what I listened to while I wrote it. For some stupid reason I can't seem to be able to link it, but I'm sure you'll find it anyway. Now, enjoy.

I slam down the folders on my coworker's desk. She jumps and looks up at me, her eyes like a deer's in the headlights. Terrified. It's not really her fault, I'm just letting everything get to my and I'm taking it out on them. And you know what? I'm the boss so I get to do just that, within certain limits of course.

"Look through these reports and leave them by Mr.Graham's desk 11 am tomorrow, not a second later."

My head hurts even more from barking out orders, and it angers me even more. I just want to get home. The bimbo-ish assistant that I still haven't learned the name of nods her head, obviously frightened from seeing this unusual side of me. I've been nothing but nice to her until now.

Feeling suffocated inside the office I hurry out to a busy business street and hail a cab. I don't even have the energy to drive my own car. I just need to get home.

Emmy's there. She always is. She will embrace me, feel me up or just make me some coffee. She always knows what I need, or at least she thinks she does. Coffee, love, movies or a pillow fight. Of course, they're all great, but they wouldn't even make a difference to me if it wasn't for the fact that they all involved her. Whatever she comes up with is perfect. Because all I need is her. I should tell her that more often.

When the cab pulls up by the familiar yellow house with orange windows and tile roof, I almost forget to pay the driver. I'm too in love with the lilies planted along the porch and the little bronze sun over our oak door. Not because I care about decorations, I never did, but because Emmy placed them there. It's her style, so therefore they're a piece of her. A piece of someone I love. Of someone I need. That's why I love them. I remove my tie and kick off my shoes as soon as I step inside the door, eager to find her. My source of life.

"Emmy?!" I yell, trying to not sound so desperate. It might make her worried.

"Yea" The way her light voice silently answers makes butterflies flutter in my stomach as happiness floods my system. All of the little grumpy goblins in my mind suddenly grins and laughs. They jump around excitedly and squeals "It's her! It's her!". I grin too.

There she sits, so perfect with her light blonde hair falling like a waterfall over her right shoulder. She's slightly hunched over in the couch, making me want to straighten her up, to pull her towards me and let her sweet aroma fill me up. Her eyes doesn't leave the floor when I enter the living room. I walk to our lime green couch and take her cold little hands in mine. I bring them up to my face and rest my head in them.

"Baby I had the worst day.." I mumble against her palms. I feel my shoulder immediately relaxe as she shifts her weight closer to me. Her left hand strokes my cheek, cupping it. It feels like a cool breeze on a summer day. Refreshing. Her eyes are filled with emotions and waves of self-pity goes through my body. But that's okay. Emmy knows. She's so very human, she understands even my weakest moments because she has them too.

"I know today was a bad day, but I'll try to make it better." She whispers, leaning her forehead on mine.

"You already have." A weak smile appears on her lips as she almost unnoticeably shakes her head.

I bring her to our bedroom where I let her love me. I try to show her my love back. It fills me up with a warmth, it erases the distance I've felt to the world these last couple of hours. I finally feel the fog lift from my mind and with her in my arms I begin to fall asleep. Keyword; begin. Emmy probably thought I was asleep because she finally lets a small sob shake her tiny body and she quietly gasps for air, like as if she had been holding her breath for too long. Why is she crying?

A flood of moments travels through my previously dulled mind, flashing by like pictures.

Her silent greeting. Her slouched posture. Her cold hands. Her emotional, not loving eyes. How they wouldn't look at me. Her tired expression.
"Today was a bad day"
What did she mean?
How she shook her head when I told her how she made my bad day better. How she silently waited until I 'fell asleep' before she cried. Does she feel guilty over something?

Carefully I stroke her arm, feeling the goosebumps on it and watching as she shivers. The night is cold.

"Baby, what happened?" I ask carefully, trying to remove any evidence of how tired I am from my voice, ashamed of how I didn't notice her pain earlier.

"I'm just cold. Sorry I woke you up."

Fuck. It hurts. It hurts how she won't tell me and it hurts even more that she's probably not telling me because I was too stupid to notice. So, basically it hurts because I am part of the reason why she's hurting.

"I never fell asleep. Emmy, please look at me." I pull a little on her arm, but she doesn't move. I plead again, unable to hide the pain in my voice, and she turns. A shard of moonlight throws shadows on our faces, making my eyelashes reach my cheeks as I elevate myself on my elbow. Tears have stained her cheeks and a salty drip is currently hanging of the tip of her nose, shimmering, threatening to fall down any minute now. My chest tightens and I have to take a deep breath to prevent myself from crying.

"Why wouldn't you tell me something happened?" I whisper, because speaking in a normal voice right now seems so disturbingly unfitting. Her voice is just as silent as mine when she answer, and it breaks a couple of times.

"You looked so miserable, I didn't want to ruin your day even more."

I shake my head. This girl is too good for me, too nice.

"Apparently I was too deep down in my self-pitying to notice you looking even more miserable until hours later. I just took from you without giving back. I'm sorry, but Emmy, baby, please tell me, what's wrong?" My hard tone softens at the end of the sentence and I stroke her arm again. We lay in silence for a while but I don't stress her, I know she'll tell me soon enough. It just worries me that she kept it in for so long, she usually tells me immediately, especially if I call her out on it.

"The cancer is back."

I hug her close to my chest, now very aware that this is a moment I'll cherish forever, even when she's gone and her memory brings me pain.

Death is inevitable.