FanFic - Unconventional Couples
"Passion Fruit"
Part 1
by Shameless
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Jason and Melinda haven't taken to writing fanfic in their spare time, so it follows that these characters aren't mine.
Summary: Michael ponders destiny, love ... and lip gloss.
Category: Unconventional Couples
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: Feedback greatly appreciated!
Her lips are always shiny, always glistening ... always tempting. When we were in fourth grade, I thought that her lips were just like that naturally. Then, when we were in junior high, I got it into my head that her lips only shimmered when I was around, because she wanted to torture me. But now I know that it was just because of her lip gloss. A couple years ago she dropped her purse, and a little bottle of goup, the color of her lips went rolling across the floor. Somehow I managed to read the label before handing it to her. She wears passion fruit flavored lip gloss. What the hell is that? Passion fruit ... It sounds like something from a late-night movie on HBO. I've never had passion fruit, but lately I've been wondering what it tastes like. I even considered making a trip down to the grocery store and seeing if they had any ... but I didn't end up going The truth is, I don't really care what it tastes like - not unless it's on her lips.

I've found myself thinking about her more than usual lately, if that's possible. She's always been the first thing to come to my mind in the morning ; she's always been my last thought before falling asleep. But over the past few months, she's become an obsession. I've always known that she was beautiful, but now ... ever since the cave ... she's breathtaking. With each passing day she looks more and more like some kind of goddess. I'm not exaggerating. I swear. If you saw her, you'd know.

I used to be happy with what we had. It didn't bother me that she didn't return my feelings. After all, I'd never made my feelings known, so it wasn't as if she rejected me ... or, at least, that's what I told myself. I admired her. I depended on her. She was the closest thing I had to a home. I never really hoped for anything more. I'm not saying that I didn't spend sleepless night, wishing that things were different. I did. But there's something safe in not having any expectations. It was comfortable. We were close, and I knew that she loved me in a way ... in a sisterly way. She was my best friend ... and that was enough ... most of the time. But it's just not enough anymore.

The dreams ... the visions ... whatever they are ... They aren't helping. We stopped talking about them after awhile, but the dreams never stopped. Actually they're getting more and more frequent. Last week I had a particurarly vivid one. We were lying in a bed , just holding each other. I was stroking her hair with one hand and running the other up and down her bare back. Her skin was so soft ... and she smelled so good ... It felt like heaven. Her hand was making lazy circles over my chest, and we were laughing softly about something. I couldn't really hear our conversation. But it didn't matter. The dreams aren't really about what's happening in them, they're about a feeling - a feeling that I've never truly experienced. They're about being happy, about being content ... I want that. I want it with her. I want to hold her - protect her from life. She'd say that she doesn't need protecting, that she's more than capable of taking care of herself. And she is. But sometimes I wonder if she ever gets tired of being so strong. Doesn't she ever just want someone to help fight her battles, someone to lean on. I know that I do ... She hasn't mentioned the dreams for awhile now, so I'm not sure if she's still having them or not. If she is, I doubt that they give her the same feelings they give me. I'll never forget the look on her face when she woke up that night, when the dreams first started. She was terrified.

I can hardly stand to be with her these days. I can't look at her. It makes me crazy. It makes me crazy to be with her and know that she doesn't see me ... not really - not the way I see her. I can't look into her eyes anymore. If I let myself look into her eyes, if I let myself just drown in them the way I've always wanted to, she'd see everything. She'd know how I feel about her. I wouldn't be able to hide. And that scares the shit out of me. What if she was completely repulsed? What if she wasn't even slightly interested in finding out about our past ... our future? Or worse yet, what if she feels the same as I do? I want her so much ... but what if I got her? I'd just disappoint her, hurt her ... Maybe we are meant to be together, maybe that's our destiny, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't screw it up.

She thinks that I'm mad at her. She doesn't know why, but she's been acting like she's the one who has something to feel guilty about ... like she's the one who's fucked up in the head. That just makes me feel like even more of a jerk. She came to my apartment last night and begged me to tell her what she'd done. She said that she couldn't lose me. She told me that she needs me. I don't think she realizes what she does to me when she says things like that. I told her to leave. When she wouldn't, I shouted at her ... told her to get the hell out. God, I hate myself for that ... but I couldn't let her see me cry. I just couldn't.

"I love you, Michael." She whispered before she left. I don't think she knew that I heard her. It's just as well. She didn't mean it the way I want her to mean it. And even if she did ... it's still just as well.

"I love you too, Isabel." I murmered when she'd closed the door. "God, I love you so much." Somehow, I managed to hold back my tears until I heard the engine of her car. And then I leaned back against the wall, and sobbed like the pathetic little boy that I am.

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