Disclaimer: If I owned 'Roswell,' would I be writing fan fiction?
Authors Note: This little fic was written because I found Emily's 'Making Up is Easy to Do (and so sweet to read about)' Challenge and I just had to take it... Ya'll know that I've been writing depressing fics lately and I needed some foof..
|"I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say
And you can't take back what you've taken away
'Cause I feel you
I feel you near me..."
- Plumb, "Damaged"
* * * * *
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door, hoping and praying that he wasn't home. She had to be normal if he was, though, and just had to tell him her mind before he kicked her out or did something else to break her heart, once again. Just act normal, she told herself, as she knocked on the door once again.
But unfortunately for her, she heard some grumbling behind the door and it swung partially open shortly there after.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly through the half-opened door, not bothering to see who had come to visit him.
He heard a gasp and looked down to find a girl ready to break down right in front of him.
"You know..." she paused, thinking of what she could snap before she made her exit, "Never mind."
She spun on her heel and started to walk down the hallway, the old boards creaking after every step she made.
"Maria, wait!" he called after her, running down the hallway to catch up with the fleeting pixie.
She kept her focus straight ahead and continued down the hallway, even though her heart was calling her to stop and turn around to face him.
"I'm sorry," were his last words of hope as he stopped chasing after her when she had reached the end of the hallway.
She turned around, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes fell on his body and combed up and down before they met his dark eyes.
"What?" he asked, unaccustomed to her stare.
"Did I just hear you correctly?"
"Maybe," was all that he said before he turned around and walked back into his apartment.
If she wanted to talk to him, she could come in.
And if she didn't, well, he would be heartbroken.
He strained to hear something... anything, but he heard nothing.
A few seconds later, he heard her footsteps behind him and a soft knock at the open door. He grinned to himself before he looked back to her.
"Michael..." she started, unable to think of what to say next. She came here to tell him the truth and along the way, he managed to yell at her, cause her to leave his apartment, then tell her that he was sorry. And now, he expected her to follow him back into his apartment, like a little lost puppy, or something. But this was his invitation to her. So she might as well finish what she came to do.
He plopped down on his old couch and motioned for her to come and sit down next to him.
"I miss you," she finally said after she sat down on the couch.
He said nothing.
She stared at the floor, embarrassed.
He didn't miss her.
After all that they'd been through...
After all that he'd said, he didn't miss her.
Tears started to cloud her eyes and she sniffled slightly, wiping her nose as she continued to stare at her feet. She was so intent on staring at the floor, she didn't realize what he was about to do.
She felt one of his arms wrap around her waist and turn her to look at him. And then, Michael proceeded to lean forward and sling his other arm around her back, pulling her into a tight hug.
"I miss you, too," he said, pushing a loose piece of her curly hair out from her face, gazing intently into her emerald eyes.
"But then... why?" Maria whispered into his ear, brushing her lips against the soft piece of skin.
They sat in silence.
She, waiting for an answer.
He, figuring out a way to say what had been on his mind for the past three months.
"I... I have to be strong," he offered, knowing that she wasn't going to believe any of his bullshit for a second. But he might as well give her a lame excuse instead of no excuse.
She pulled away from their embrace first and looked into his dark eyes.
"That, Michael Guerin, is not true," she stated firmly, daring him to object.
She was right. He was lying, he thought. When Michael didn't say anything, Maria took it as a queue to continue.
"We're stronger together. When we're together, things happen. Good things. And this being an issue of strength is not the case. But I think that I *do* have an idea of why you have to be 'alone' or whatever you want to call it."
"Go on," he motioned, curious to see what she thought.
"Michael, you're scared. You're scared of what's about to happen. You're scared of what is going to happen to you. You're scared of what might happen to me... if something goes wrong, with your powers or whatever, I don't know. You don't want to put me through this, I know, but if you keep pushing me away, I just get more hurt than I do when I'm with you."
He didn't say a word, but she could see the realization beginning to shine in his soulful eyes.
"But I'm scared too, Michael. I'm scared of what might happen to you and what might happen to me, but whatever the case, I'd rather face it with you than face it alone. I love you, Michael and I need you to be with me now, so that we both can be stronger. So that we can get through this together. Because if we don't face it together, I doubt we'll come out the same," she finished, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and brush the single tear that fell from one of his eyes away.
Slowly, his arms wrapped around her, again, to embrace her. He buried his face in her long hair, just wanting to forget what was happening and go back to the way things used to be. She ran her hands up and down his back in a circular motion and he sighed.
"Hmm?" she asked when she heard his sigh.
"I..." he started.
"You're welcome," she grinned. Even now, he couldn't say it. But the boy was trying, she had to give it to him.
"Thanks," he smiled. He actually smiled. Not like one of those half-ass smiles like you do for school pictures... this was an all out full tooth smile. And Michael Guerin, of all people, was sharing it with her.
"So?" he ran his hand through his hair.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence. She played with a ringlet of her hair, twirling it around her finger, untwirling it, and twirling it again. He looked at the floor, concentrating on it... or something on his mind.
"Do you want to, uh, do something tonight?" he asked, peering up from the floor, hopefully, into her eyes.
She sat there for a second, trying to take in the moment. He had actually asked her out! She stood up and stared off into space, acting like she was thinking *really* hard about it, even though that she had made her mind up the second he completed the sentence. Come on, it wasn't *obvious* that she was in love with him or anything...
"Maria?" he asked, fearful of being turned down. She was really scaring him... since when did Maria think so hard about going out? Something was definitely wrong...
"What?" she whined, being pulled back into reality by his voice.
"What's your answer, Cheesehead?" he joked.
"Why, of course, why wouldn't I turn down a date with the ever-so-dashing Michael 'Dorkbutt' Guerin?" she teased, grinning widely at him.
"Hey!" he exclaimed and tackled her. When she was completely on the ground, he pounced on her. And he started to tickle her stomach, the most ticklish part, she had told him one day back in the spring.
"Michael!" she giggled, "Michael, stop it!" She attempted to swat at his head and tried to shove him off her, not that she *really* minded, but the tickling was a bit... torturous? But in return for her resistance, he tickled her even more, making her squirm in an attempt to escape from beneath him.
"Michael, what?" he asked, smirking.
"I give! I give! I'll do whatever, just... Stop. Tickling. Me," she managed to gasp between giggles.
He immediately leaned back with those words and looked at her like she had grown another head, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed as she sprang to her feet, but he was too fast for her.
He had already stood and was already making his way to the door, in an attempt to escape the wrath of Hurricane DeLuca.
But he was too late when he turned around to see her standing directly behind him, her hands resting on her hips and her eyebrow cocked.
"You sick boy!" she exclaimed, flailing her arms and swatting at his head and his shoulders. He was able to dodge most of her hits, though, which was a good thing, but she did get one good square hit on his shoulder. He rubbed it and looked at her, his eyes open and vulnerable.
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it," he whispered, feigning innocence, holding his hands in the air.
"Sure you didn't..." she grinned.
"But about the date? You still want to go, right?" he asked, hoping to get her mind of revenging him for his last snide remark. Even though she was a girl, she still hit pretty hard and he wasn't in the mood for getting any more blows to his ego.
Maria groaned, slapping her forehead with her hand, and resting it there for effect.
Sure, she could stomach his somewhat sick mind, but this? Why did she have to be subjected to this, of all things? What had become of the world?
But she grinned instead of scolding him for his last question and licked her lips. She had some major work ahead of her on this boy if they were going to get anywhere in their relationship.
Yes, things were defiantly back to normal.
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