"Is it because there's something wrong with me?" he shouted at her, blue eyes burning with confusion and the pain of a broken heart.
"No," Meredith answered, adjusting the blankets so they covered her. The cool air was blowing in through the open window, the mechanized window lock wouldn't turn off, and there were goosebumps on the back of her exposed neck. Her voice was quiet as her dark eyes met his. "That's not why. We've been through this."
He was still confused and it showed in his features, in the tears welling up in his eyes that reddened the sclera and reflected the light of the candle. They seemed more Hamish-blue like this.They were the only colour she'd never been able to properly get from mixing paints. Hints of green were mixed in with it causing an effective clarity that a hundred colour studies were dedicated to trying to duplicate it, none with any success.
The boy closed his eyes to prevent the tears from falling. He saw everything now, didn't he? That she was not capable of giving him the one thing he so desperately wanted. Hamish Watson-Holmes, the epitome of the world's good had chosen to fall for the only person who couldn't give him what he deserved.
Selfish. That's what she was. Meredith's eyes cast to the floor when she finally labeled it. It wasn't a good to take everything and gave absolutely nothing in return. But she liked herself around him. Colours, food, music were better with him, and nearly everything else was. The painter wouldn't, couldn't do anything to give that up, and there was nothing she could have given in return.
"It's nothing like in the movies," she said, barely audible and fast paced so he might not catch all of it. Her eyes focused on the paint splatters covering her hands as every piece of her mind told her to lie. Lie, act, make him stay. There was a large spot of white on the inside of her index finger that started to bother her and successfully distracted her while she tried telling the truth. "The couples walking down the street, holding hands and saying they love each other. I'll never do that. I'll never be able to honestly say those three words," Meredith stretched the finger out to make small fissures in the paint. "I don't hurt when you hurt, or feel sad when you're sad," she rubbed at it with her thumb to make the edges curl, "there's nothing in me that wants to comfort you when tears fall. I have no clue what to do if I were to try. The same when you're happy. When anyone is happy. Whatever happens in your head doesn't.... doesn't happen in mine."
Hamish's eyes opened and he leaned against the bed frame, taking everything in. He did love her, always had, even when they were little children. The feelings ebbed and flowed over the years, but when he saw her again in the coffee shop, and the eight months of challenging each other both mentally and physically that proceeded. Meredith was like magic, a breath of fresh air, and how she looked now, with her hair falling out of a braid that barely covered the scars on the back of her neck, and the blanket clinging to her small frame as she persisted with the scratching. His chest twisted up and his skin prickled. It hurt to see her like this and he wanted to make her better.
"I'm a leech," Meredith warned him in a whisper. She had scratched off a large spot of the paint already, but kept at that single spot, scratching away layers of skin until it was flaming red. "I don't know why you stayed for so long. I don't understand it, but I won't do a thing to change it, Hamish. A good person would do that, and no matter how much I act like one, try to be one, I'm not... I need reminders..."
"Stop that," he commanded, cutting her off and taking her hands, no longer shocked by the initial coolness. His dad's medical teaching came into play and he sat next to her on the sheets, ghosting over the bright red skin with calloused fingertips. Mere stared at them. The long, violinist's fingers were fascinating and warm. They were always warm, and her own were cold like metal.
Meredith slipped a hand out and attempted to push him away. Her own fingertips reached the fabric of his shirt before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. She tensed up, the embrace was unexpected and didn't last for long, but it stopped the shivering she had not noticed before. "Please stay," she begged feebly, grabbing onto his arm when he pulled away. Surprised, Hamish gave her a questioning look. Meredith let her eyes grow wide and mouth go soft, a slight tremor added to the bottom lip for effect. "You're...warm."
He conceded after a short pause. "Lay down and move over," he told her, pulling the blanket up. It was kept her safe in a small way, protecting Meredith from the one person who could really hurt her. She grinned and did so, curling up slightly as she moved into the bed. Hamish's arm curled around her center and he nuzzled her neck. With his other hand he started playing with her hair and, try as she might, Meredith found it difficult to stay awake.
He stayed up for several hours after her breathing had steadied, thinking and playing with her hair. It would be a little longer before her nightmares started, if they did at all. He stopped playing with her hair curled up closer, finally letting himself fall asleep. Meredith's eyes opened when he started snoring lightly and turned around to face him. She'd woken up an hour ago from a nightmare that didn't manifest itself physically, and she sighed looking at his sleeping face. Leech hazily surfaced in her mind and she fell asleep once more.
