weak | S.M

0.5

I take a deep breath. Come on, Claire, I think. You've practised, you can do this!

"You know, if you were to ask me this question two weeks ago, I probably would've said I didn't know.

"I remember sitting with my parents as we watched the news. I'd always analyze the news reporters, pointing out their mistakes, their accuracy, the way they'd speak, move, react, even the way they'd hold the microphone. I could sit for hours complaining about every little thing these reporters did wrong.

"Eventually, I had talked my dad's ears out and I remember him saying, "If you're so damn sure of how to do this shit, why don't you go do it yourself?"

"So I did. I degreed in journalism and media, interned at The New York's magazine, got myself a job as a personal assistant and now I'm here. At the last stop. My final goal.

"I believe I can do good here. Maybe even better than those news reporters I saw on Tv. All I'm asking is for a chance, sir."

Silence.

Mr. Ravenford shakes his head as a grin breaks through his lips.

"You're something, Ms. Jones.

"I have a few more interviews today to go through, but your chances are very big, Claire."

"Thank you, sir." I accept his hand and pick up my bag. "I wouldn't let you down, Mr. Ravenford."

"I hope not." He smiles.

***

I notice it's gotten colder when I get outside. My fingers tickle. I make a mental note to myself to bring a pair of gloves with me tomorrow.

The streets have gotten more crowded since I came this morning. More people are out and more taxis drive on the streets.

It's already dark outside when I get home. I get surprised when a strong scent of food hits my nostrils. It has me wondering if Derek's home already.

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe." Derek calls. I swing my purse off my shoulder and hang up my coat. I see his figure moving around in the kitchen as I walk down the hall.

He stirs a big pot and steam overtakes the kitchen area. He has his back turned to me.

As I sit down on the kitchen bar stool, I contemplate if I should bring up last night. I decide against it.

Derek turns around. He's tired, I can see it in his eyes. And he's sorry.

I am too.

Words doesn't need to be spoken when he strides to me and wraps his arms around me. Words aren't spoken when we both exhale a sigh of relief. We don't say anything when we breathe in each other. Derek doesn't have to apologize for me to know he's sorry. We're both sorry and we both know it.

"We can't keep doing this, Derek."

"I know."

"We keep having the same arguments."

Derek watches me carefully. It's like he's waiting for me to say what he's thinking. But I can't find it in me to say it.

It's quiet.

"What do you want to do?" He finally asks.

"I know what we should do. I just don't want to."

"Neither do I."

"Then what can we do, Derek? It's already six-thirty, and today is probably the earliest I'll ever come home. I know you're not okay with that."

"But what can I do?" He counters. "I can't control you. Nor can I control your schedule."

"You know what you can do, Derek."

"No." He shakes his head.

"Don't you want more than this? Don't you want someone to come home to everyday, instead of sitting around waiting?"

"I want you!" He cries. I feel my tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You deserve more, Derek. I can't give you everything you want. I'm not the same seventeen-year old you fell in love with. Neither are you."

"I've always known we were different. I just never thought our difference would be the thing to ruin us."

We're better on our own, I know he knows that. But we're scared of being alone.

What we don't realise is that we already are.

"I love you, Derek. More than you realise. But I'm not okay with hurting you every day. This isn't healthy anymore."

He hugs me. I cry. Derek cries. We whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears. I tell him I love him. He tells me he'll never forget me.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. But I am too."

We cry more and time doesn't seem to end. And I don't want it to.

I wake up two hours later in bed with tear stained cheeks and a headache. Derek's arms are wrapped around me tightly, as if holding onto me for dear life. His eyes are puffy and his hair messy.

I draw circles against his skin. I shiver when his breaths hits my neck. As I lay here in his arms, I don't want to leave. And I feel selfish for feeling that way.

I wiggle myself out of his embrace carefully and slide my pants back on.

The kitchen is still lit up when I get downstairs and the food is remained untouched. I prepare a plate for myself. As it microwaves, I prepare one meal for Derek as well. He always gets hungry later in the evenings. The microwave beeps and I hiss when the plate burns my fingers.

"Careful." Derek speaks up from behind me. His voice is weak. I feel him behind me as I wash my hand. "Are you okay?"

"Are you asking about my hand or me?"

He pauses.

"Both, I guess."

I remove my hand from the cold water and turn around. Derek hands me a towel. I look at him in the eyes and notice a few tears resting in them. I can only imagine how I look.

"No," I whisper. "I'm not okay, Derek."

"I know." I feel his hand caressing my cheek. I close my eyes as a single tear goes down my cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"I am too." He says as his thumb wipes it off.

"I don't know what to say here, Derek."

"Then don't say anything. Please. We have this one night. Come upstairs, lay down with me. Don't say anything."

"Derek, I--"

"Please. Just for tonight. Just for now."

I silently nod and follow him upstairs. He removes his shirt and I change into a pair of shorts. I tuck myself in under the covers and Derek gets in after.

I feel his hand grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him. His lips meets my temple and I curl into his chest.

As we lay here, we cry. I feel his hands tightening around me and my lips stays attached to his skin.

"I love you." I whisper as my tears stain his chest.

"I know. I love you too."

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

When the darkness spreads across the room, my eyelids grows heavier. I find myself drifting off.

I fall asleep.

And for the last time, it's in the arms of Derek.