Die Without You - L.P

Weak

Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she could simply disappear, vanishing into thin air. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of his breathing, the disturbance he'd presented to her private pain.

"What are you doing?"

Of course it wouldn't work. Slowly, she opened her eyes and surveyed him in the dim light shining from the lampposts lining the streets. Liam was wearing a thick leather jacket and dark jeans, his standard attire. He looked down at her with a puzzled little smile.

"Nothing," she sighed, almost disappointed by her inevitable failure in going unnoticed.

"You know, this is the first time we've talked when you aren't drunk. Or about to get drunk."

He dropped down to the rough gravel, seating himself a polite distance from her. "How are you?" he asked amiably. He was so cheerful and friendly, not even bothering to question why she was sitting in a cold, dark alley alone at night. He was so strangely confusing.

Before she could reply, he leaned in, so suddenly that she jumped. He inspected her face carefully, squinting in the barely lit night.

"Were you crying?" he whispered a bit sadly. She scooted backwards, using her hands to support herself.

"Why do you care?" she snorted once she was far away enough from him to be comfortable.

"You're my friend," he chirped with a smile. "Friends care about each other."

She had to fight to resist the urge to laugh aloud. "We're not friends. You're just some annoying guy who doesn't know how to take a hint."

To her frustration, he chuckled warmly and shook his head. He was only increasing her fury exponentially until it consumed her, eclipsing even the sadness.

"Leave me alone!" she growled, clenching her fists so tightly that miniature crescent moons formed on her skin. "Do you understand the meaning of the words fuck off? I don't want you here. I don't want you to fix me or whatever the hell you think you're doing."

His eyes widened at her harsh tone, and for the first time, he looked slightly taken aback. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. His expression was so sorrowful that her heart almost broke. She was tired of hurting people. She'd done that enough to herself.

"Are you okay, Amy?" he murmured, brown eyes intense and glowing. But she couldn't answer that.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm just... stressed."

"I'm just trying to help you," he said softly.

"I know. Even if you are doing it in the worst way possible."

He laughed, and the happiness flooded back into his face once more. She wished it could be that easy for her. There was a short pause before he spoke again.

"I really think that we can work through your issues," he continued, becoming more and more excited with every word that he uttered. "We could meet every week and discuss measures you can take."

The annoyance began rising in her chest once more. She had to change the subject before she violently exploded.

"You're in uni, right?"

He looked surprised at her abrupt change in topic but went with it smoothly. "Yep. It's my last year."

"I'm assuming you're getting a degree in being an asshole."

"Good guess. But it's psychology."

"That was my second guess." He chuckled lightly, and she grinned at him in spite of herself.