Put Our Pieces Back Together: Clam
Curious as to how things might’ve changed, Clair tried to covertly glance around the room. Oddly enough, the only thing that seemed to have changed was that her stuff was no longer here. Everything else looked exactly as it had once they had finished decorating. Okay, once Sam had finished decorating. She didn’t really give a shit what went on the walls, where she was didn’t matter to her. It was almost exactly how she remembered it. An amalgamation of nerd merchandise. Comic cells hung on the wall next to framed movie posters, a TARDIS throw was slung haphazardly across the back of the sofa, his action figures were lined up neatly on the shelf beneath thei-his tv. All that was missing was her.
No, she wasn’t going to be the pathetic whiny brat who missed what she freely gave up. Sentimental bullshit was not something Clair suffered well. This had been her choice and there was no point getting upset about now. Things were the way they were, there was no changing it. Their problems couldn’t be fixed by her reappearing in his life. Not that she was fucking do that either. The whole point of this shitty exercise in broken dreams was to give them both closure so she could stop being a boring idiot and he could find some other girl to date, someone who actually deserved him. She sure as shit never would.
His smile fell and she felt like utter trash. What was she doing? Wrecking this guy’s life again. He didn’t need her and her shitty attitude. The sooner they wrapped this up, the better. She couldn’t keep doing this to him. It was why they’d failed the first time, she’d broken him. There was no way in hell that she was putting him through that again. She’d rather die.
Her brow furrowed as he lied to her. That wasn’t like him. She was the liar, not him. “Bullshit,” she said, uncaring if he’d be upset by it. Frankly, it’d serve him right, lying to her like that. Who the fuck did he think he was? She was Clair, he didn’t lie to her. “Are you seriously trying to lie to me? What the fuck, Sam?” This was beyond her realm of okay. He had every right to be mad at her, but that didn’t mean he got to lie to her. She’d rather have him yelling in her face than pretending like shit was okay when clearly it wasn’t. “What’s going on,” she asked, “And this time you better give me an actual fucking answer instead of lying through your teeth again.”
She fought to try and keep herself calm. There were too many times that she’d lost her temper over the past year and she didn’t want to break anything in his apartment. He was probably just lying to make her feel better or whatever. It was sweet if beyond fucking misguided. But she could handle this, deep breaths. After taking a few calming breaths, Clair tried to respond to him in a calm manner. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t right for me to have your shit, so I’m giving it back,” she said, glossing over the fact that she had waited a fucking year to do it.
When she’d complimented Sam, she hadn’t done it for any real particular reason. It was a fact, simple as that. But his words made her think that maybe he didn’t realize that. In fact, she was pretty sure he was flirting with her and that was just not gonna work. “Yeah, thanks, I guess,” she said, distractedly, “Look, you needed your shit and it’s back, let’s not make this something it isn’t. I’m just giving us the closure we should have had fucking months ago.”
Sam really should have known better that Clair would let him get away with him saying that he was okay when he was feeling worlds away from that. Just this once though he wished the girl would have just let him play pretend because he knew that she wouldn't particularly like what he had to say. If anything the duo were honest. It didn't matter if they were apart or together they were honest with each other even if it meant feelings would get a little hurt along the way. The blonde nervously scratched at the back of his head as his jaw clenched, almost forcibly trying to keep his words inside his throat.
"Because I miss you," he finally blurted out. "I miss you being here. This place isn't home without you it's just four walls and a bunch of comic books. The bed is way too big without you in it and I hate falling asleep alone," he confessed, his voice growing more and more passionate with each and every word. "So yeah sorry for wanting to pretend that I'm doing alright 'cause it's all I got keeping me sane. Sorry for not telling you that I feel like crap 'cause I know that if you knew I was hurting that you'd stay away. I don't want you to stay away, Clair."
After his outburst he looked inside of the box, and picked up a few things. Doing just about anything to meet his ex-girlfriend's gaze. He was too afraid of what he'd find there. He was afraid he'd see anger at him for dumping all of this on her. He was afraid he'd see sadness in the eyes that used to light up whenever he'd get home from class.
"I'm sorry," he apologized and coughed to cover up the way his voice cracked with the simple statement. "I shouldn't have... It's not fair of me to say those things, but if closure if what you're after that's where I'm at. Still as hopelessly in love with you as when we were sixteen."
