Try To Make My WayAuthor/Artist: decadentdreamTheme(s): #7. Interest (~crying for you one last time)Pairing/Characters: Wyatt/BiancaRating:
Belongs to Spelling Entertainment and all other associated people. I do however claim half of Bianca since they never fully developed her.Word Count:
729Written For: 30_angsts
Dark clouds cast a formidable shadow as rain washed through the streets of San Francisco. Pants soaked up to the ankles, Wyatt grumbled and shook his umbrella, closing it completely as he stepped into the apartment complex. Droplets fell from the tip as he trudged up the stairs, leaving a damp trail in his wake. It was mid-afternoon on a rainy Thursday, but the blackened sky outside attempted to deceive all into thinking it was far later into the night.
Unlocking the door, he paused and listened. He thought he heard someone crying softly. He stepped further inside, closing the door and flipping the light on, the piercing glare a brilliant contrast to the smothering darkness he’d first stepped into.
“B?” he called, hanging up the umbrella and making his way into the living room.
She sat curled up on the couch. At the sound of his footsteps she quickly wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, straightening and pushing herself off the cushions.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
“You were crying.”
“Leave it,” she began, her voice breaking. She moved quickly towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you coffee.”
Wyatt followed her into the kitchen. He saw her hand shake as she attempted to look like things were fine, causing her to drop the teaspoon into the mug. She placed her hands against the counter in an effort to steady them. Her hair covering her face, he could not see her expression. Finally she turned towards him. She pursed her lips as she tended to do when she was angry, but the desolate shine in her eyes betrayed her front.
“Bad day?” Wyatt questioned, unsure what else to say. She bit her lip, struggling to hold her façade. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here. I mean, you were sitting in the dark.”
“I didn’t… want to…”
She couldn’t get the words out as her throat tightened up. She felt the pressure building again and fresh tears escaped her eyes. She turned her head away, the best thing she could do at this moment to prevent him from seeing her cry. She couldn’t run away. She couldn’t hide. He was here; he’d already seen her break.
“What? Bianca? Did I do something?” he questioned softly. She shook her head. Reaching towards her, he pulled her against him, his hand resting against her head as her tears soaked his shirt the way the rain had the rest of his clothes outside. Gently stroking a hand over her back he waited for her to settle again before questioning her further. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No,” she responded hoarsely
“Okay,” he agreed.
Taking her hand, he led her back into the living room and sat her down on the couch, taking a seat beside her. She clasped her hands together and looked down at them. He could tell she was still caught up in some ill thought, none of which he could save her from.
“I don’t like seeing that light go out in your eyes,” he confessed meekly.
“I’m tired of it being like this,” she revealed. “I’m sick of being in the dark. You don’t know how hard it is to know there is something wrong with you and not be able to fix it. And the one person who can do something refuses to help.”
“Have I been that indignant?” Wyatt asked. “It wasn’t intended. I’ll do—”
“You can’t do
anything, Wyatt. You can’t fix what was already broken. You can’t heal something that’s a part of me.”
“I’d rather try than see you suffer. It hurts me to see you upset. Anything is better than crying for you one last time.”
“If there’s anything I can guarantee it’s that this won’t be the only time this will happen,” she said despondently. “Why do I have to struggle so much to be normal? Why… why is it so hard for me?”
“I don’t know,” Wyatt replied, shaking his head. He reached out to take her hand but she shook him off, standing once again and pressing a hand to her head.
“My head hurts. I’m going to go to bed.”
Worriedly Wyatt watched her go, not knowing what he could do for her but knowing that she at least had picked a positive option to handle the disquiet.