How to Steal a Happy Ending

•eleven• The rain that washed the spider out.

Vince's eyes followed me like a hawk as I made my way towards him. They were color you'd get when you forget to separate your whites from all the dark clothes; pale, unforgiving...or maybe that was just how I saw them at the moment.

"We need to talk."

At least I think that's what he said, I couldn't really hear over the sound of my panic-induced mental blackout.

Me and Vince have had an unspoken pact ever since the night he broke up with me...well, it's more of a mutual restraining order. Don't talk to me, act like you know me, or ever be caught in my line of sight. So why he was breaking the status quo was as much a mystery to me as algebra is to Kate. And she's the epitome of mathematically retarded. So that's saying something.

As if this wasn't enough to get my head throbbing, everyone in the room decided it was socially acceptable to crane their necks and leer at every second of our interaction. I kept my head down and my hands stiffly by my sides, mortification creeping up my cheeks like a rose vine. Vince had a lot of things going for him, but tact was not one of them. Instead of being inconspicuous and waiting at my car or something, he somehow felt that barging in on my Oz audition was a better way to get my attention. Asshole.

Clenching my jaw, I tried to remember the time when everything about him made me swoon. I know that era happened but right now, under people's harsh scrutiny, it was like trying to pull the strings of logic from a hazy dream.

We stopped outside at an enclave under the stairs, with him hunching his shoulders to fit below the arch of cement. I cleared my throat and put on an air of what I hoped was nonchalance, "So what's up?"

"Uhh," he rubbed the back of his neck and gave me an uneasy smile. This, in turn, made me uneasy. "Look, I just wanted to-I mean, I think we-" The rest of the sentence got engulfed in his obvious discomfort.

A long silence ensued. I'm not sure what he was doing during this time but the part of me that still lives in the past was busy filling in the blank he'd left in the air. He thinks we...should start over. He thinks we should let bygones be bygones. He thinks we should go out again.

The sound of footsteps over my head snapped me out of delusion. A tentative tap on his shoulder was all I could venture. He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is, we should stop."

"We should...stop." I parroted him, words coming out with the consistency of whey.

"Yeah, stop acting like we hate each other. I mean, I don't know what happened between us, but is it really so bad that we couldn't-I don't know..." He trailed off again.

His eyes shifted to the left, right, above...anywhere but at me.

Till they did.

Eyes grey as shackles had captured me under their gaze, enticing me to hold their plastic emotions as truth.

"I want us to get past all that."

Us. I physically felt the weight of the word bearing down on my shoulders. He wants us to get past all that. All what? How he crushed me because I put a scratch on his ego? Is that what he wants me to get past? Now wait, I can't blame him for what his friends did. His friends, yes...but was it just them? Wasn't he the one that broke up with me?

I tried to swallow but it seemed my mouth had dried up. What happened to us? Do you remember... do I remember? Funny, the thought that something so important could've faded like any other memory.

"Are we cool, Claire?"

All I could manage was a slow ummm. My mouth felt cottony as it spoke of its own accord. "Yeah, we are."

He seemed satisfied by this, his rigid shoulders regaining some of their mobility. "Alright. I'll see you around." He gave me a friendly nod and left as abruptly as he'd entered.

It sent my temples pulsing that only one of us was leaving this conversation with a lighter chest. He didn't even say sorry.

I wanted to call him back, demand that he actually apologize and then not forgive him anyway. But I didn't. Because I never said no. It was my fault, not his.

My fault.

My fault.

My fault.

Another lengthy silence visited me. And I stood at the bottom of the stairs facing it's wrath.

"Oh, there you are," the one person I didn't want to talk to bounded down the steps, extending her hand out to mine. Sara's brunette hair swished with the movement. She reeked with excitement. And it stung that she was so happy, carefree.

Her dainty hands clasped around my arm. "Claire, it's your turn to audition. I just finished and it went so well." She giggled giddily, "This play is going to be so much fun. I hope I get a nice role."

She tugged at me, "Come on, lets go. You're holding everyone else up."

I wanted to walk up the stairs with her...and then push her down. Watching her tumble, even in my imagination, was much more rewarding than getting some dumb role in a play that wasn't my idea.

Scowling, I pointedly plucked her fingers off of me. "I can find my own way, thanks."

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A/N: The play is Wizard of Oz, in case anyone's forgotten ^_^ (Claire never got her way, sadly)

Thoughts on the chapter? Does anyone have any guesses about what happened between Vince and her?

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