FicWad

A/N: I'm actually not particularly proud of this one. I really didn't have all that much fun writing it, and I think that's pretty much reflected in my work.

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "What's Up Lonely?".

Song Used: Kelly Clarkson's "What's Up Lonely?".


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Four: What's Up Lonely?
Puppet: Paige Waters


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Blue, I'm gettin' kind of close to you,
Like a shadow I can't lose,
Hey, you've been hanging with me everyday,
Now you're gettin' in my way,
I know you understand me but don't you think maybe it's time to move on?

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sometimes, the only thing I want most in the world is the ability to go back and change everything.

There are things I wish I'd never said; things I wish I never did; things I wish I never even thought.

Maybe, if I hadn't told him I would be just fine all on my own, he would still love me. Maybe, if I hadn't selfishly chased after my own dreams without a thought for his, he wouldn't have had a chance to rethink how he felt. Maybe, if I hadn't thought of him as a conceited rockstar who had nothing better to do than blame everyone else for his sorrows, I could bring myself to forgive him.

I wanted him to love me. It hurt to think that he'd spent his time asking himself if he really wanted me.

But I think the worst part was the fact that, well...if I couldn't forgive him, if I let myself keep feeling so lonesome, I couldn't love anyone as much as I'd loved him until I did.

“Yeah,” I answered, knowing it was a lie, “I'm fine.”

What's up lonely?
Seems you're my only friend who wants to share my pain,
Tell me heartache, what's it gonna take,
For you to leave me alone today?
Just when I think you're gone,
You're in the mirror looking back at me,
So what's up lonely? (lonely, ooh...)

The big, dark, puppy-like eyes of a different boy than the one I ached for were so incredibly soft and worried that I could almost feel the warm, protective blanket wrapped about my shoulders.

But that wasn't a blanket, was it? That was his arm, I thought...

“Are you sure?” He pressed, cupping my cheek in his free hand and forcing me to hold his gaze. His eyebrows lifted incredulously and his forehead creased with vigilant regard for my well-being, not believing my answer and unable to understand that as much as I wanted to trust him, I couldn't.

I couldn't. I couldn't help but see my betrayer when I looked at my would-be savior.

Their eyes were the same color, so dark that they matched the color of chocolate left out in the sun too long; they withheld the same tenderness, the same wisdom. They had the same curly locks framing a similar face with a constant look of quiet, determined strength.

Sometimes, I wish you weren't by my side,
Can't you find another shoulder?
'Cause I, I wanna leave this broken heart behind,
We're both wasting so much time,
Find someone else to rain on,
I'm really gettin' tired of singing this sad song...

“Yes, Mac!” I didn't mean to sound as irritated as I did, but it was just one of those times when you really don't want to snap at someone, but it happens anyway. Why couldn't he understand that I wasn't ready to feel for anyone else just yet?

He flinched away as if I'd struck him across the face with an open hand, his hand quickly withdrawing back to his side, scooting aside awkwardly as he did so, releasing me of the hold he'd had on my shoulders as well. Now those insanely gentle eyes were wide with hurt, as if there was no greater injury in this world than to have me push him away every time he tried to show me that he loved me with everything he had.

Guilt reared up and crashed down over my head like a wild mustang may heave back on its hind legs and throw its sharp, crushing hooves back down on its opponent. How was it that I, who my friends described as the most understanding person out there, could wound someone like that?

I wished I could find a way to explain to him that it wasn't his fault without hurting his feelings even more by saying I still wanted to love someone else.

How could he possibly even try to control his own feelings knowing that he wasn't the one I wanted? How could I make him understand that it wasn't anything he'd done...but that it was me and my actions?

What's up lonely?
Seems you're my only friend who wants to share my pain,
Tell me heartache, what's it gonna take,
For you to leave me alone today?
Just when I think you're gone,
You're in the mirror looking back at me,
So what's up lonely?

“I-I'm sorry,” he stammered out uncertainly, obviously not sure if he was angry or upset about being rejected, “you just haven't smiled or laughed at anything since I brought you out here a-and I thought...”

He paused, and one big, firm, squarish hand reached over and enveloped one of my smaller ones. I looked at him and he looked at me, both of us trying to figure out what to say to the other. We were sitting side by side on the porch step in front of his house and dusk had already taken its toll on the bright day, and for the first time since we'd sat down I noticed that the moonlight had softened his face and stars glittered in his eyes.

He was beautiful. I haven't been able to get over myself long enough to notice.

“I just thought maybe something's bothering you.”

Don't wanna give you a reason to hang around anymore,
You won't be hurting my feelings,
If you find another broken heart, you can lean on (ooh)...

“There is!” I blurted something out without having the intent on actually saying it for the second time that night. Perhaps I was spurred into stupid, freeing boldness by the realization that he was indeed one of God's masterpieces. Perhaps it was the sudden, terrifying thought that I might lose him if I kept everything locked inside when it was clear all he wanted was to be let in.

Maybe it was both.

His eyebrows shot upward curiously as he once again drew back, this time because he was more surprised rather than hurt. He blinked once. Twice. Thrice...

“I thought so.” He murmured finally, giving my hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze. The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth told me that he was feeling mighty proud of himself for finally breaking through my shell, but at this point I didn't really care anymore.

It was a huge understatement to say that at that moment I had a realization; I had a Goddamn epiphany.

I wasn't alone.

No matter whose it was, someone's heart was reaching desperately for mine.

And I was reaching back. I wanted to love Mac; to be his baby; to be held and kissed by him; to see the early sunlight on his face; to accept his love and admiration. But I was hindered by my mistrust, my doubt, my loneliness since I started believing that the only person I was meant to be with simply didn't want me anymore.

Gotta go, gotta move on,
Gotta go, gotta move on,
Just leave me alone...

“Do you want to tell me what it is, or am I gonna have to pry that out of you too?” His voice called me back from my racing mind, soft with concern but a bit edged with sarcasm.

I just about started crying.

Here he was, obviously not enjoying any part of this in any way, shape, or form, and yet, he cared enough to put his frustration on the shelf so he could get to the bottom of the problem. He wanted to help me; to comfort me. Surely there could be no other explanation for it. Why else would he waste his time on a stubborn, brokenhearted wreck like me?

And yet, even with that homely, reassuring knowledge, I still wasn't able to look him in the eye and tell him. It was hard enough trying to figure this complex, headache-inducing emotions out for myself, much less trying to explain it to another person.

How could I make him understand?

What's up lonely? (what's up lonely?)
Seems you're my only (hey) friend who wants to share my pain,
Tell me heartache, what's it gonna take,
For you to leave me alone today?
Just when I think you're gone,
You're in the mirror looking back at me,
So what's up lonely?

I tried.

I really did.

“I...I really miss Nick.”

The taste of the other's name on my tongue made me want to smile and flinch all at the same time, but somehow I managed to keep my expression blank.

Nick. Never again would I hear that name and not feel a bitter twist of sorrow, whether or not the person or thing mentioning it was talking about my Nick or not.

He and I had been a steady pair all throughout high school. We'd been so sure that we'd found our other half at such a young age and, come senior year, had even started making plans for the future. I was going to take his name, have his babies, grow old with him...but none of it would come to pass.

We'd broken up about three months ago. He'd finally gotten tired of me abandoning him so I could go to school and decided that the best way to fix his problems was to sever the bond between us. He ended it over a phone call, and my life abruptly became frighteningly open-ended.

Gotta go, gotta move on,
Gotta go, gotta move on (yeah, yeah, hey...)

I felt very much like a small child who just accidentally dropped a big jar of bright red paint on some brand new white carpet; sheepish and apologetic, but totally unable to comprehend just how huge the amount of damage I'd just caused.

But I didn't even stop there. As much as I wanted to leave it at that; to let the confession sit and no longer have to feel like no one else knew; to just grow up and move on already, my inability to tell a little white lie for the sake of someone else was going to smear even more scarlet on the would-be untouched, almost sacred patch of flooring.

“I-I keep thinking about the things we said we were gonna do after I finally came h-home for good, a-and...” I hated myself for telling him this, but at the same time I couldn't think of any other way to say it, “I just don't think...don't think I'm ready for you yet. You...you're a beautiful boy, Mac, but I still feel...vulnerable. Ya' know?”

His hand quickly withdrew from mine.

Oh God, I'd probably just ripped his heart in two.

What's up lonely?
Seems you're my only (baby, yeah) friend who wants to share my pain,
(Tell me what's it gonna take?) tell me heartache (just leave me alone), what's it gonna take?

But I didn't.

I knew I didn't, because the feeling of his thick, strong arms wrapping around me and pressing me to his chest was far too reassuring, far too intimate to be done by someone with an aching heart.

Hell. I even thought that perhaps this was the moment in which he adored me the most. So tender, so fond, so forgiving was his touch that I felt as if I could damn him to Hell a million times over and he would still love me.

“I wish you'd told me this earlier,” he said quietly into my hair, his tone gently scolding, “why didn't you say anything?”

“'Cause I...I was afraid of losing you.” I answered.

“Don't be. It's all right to feel lonely, sweetheart.” He crooned. His soft lips brushed against my ear and his breath, so warm in contrast to the cool night air, slid lazily down the back of my neck.

I buried my face into the crook of his neck, almost hoping to find a sign that he was jealous or hurt. “But I'm so broken...”

“Shh, shh, shh...I know, sweetheart,” he soothed, using that endearing word again and allowing one hand to glide up my backbone and down again, “everything's gonna be okay, Paige. I'll fix you. I promise.”

I battled ferociously with the tears threatening to slip down either side of my face, unsure of their cause. Was I still afraid of losing any chance with him and having to go through this process once again? Or was I just so sentimental that just the idea that he'd even consider putting the pieces of a shattered heart together?

I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. My mind was still running about in confusing, hopeless circles as I struggled to understand not only my feelings, but his, too.

Could I even hold him to that promise in the far or near future without feeling as if I was being hypocritical? What if, after all the smoke and dust cleared from my heart and mind, I realized that I had only been looking for some source of comfort after losing Nick and didn't love Mac at all?

What was wrong with me? Even when I knew someone loved me, I still felt lonely. I felt as if my heart weighed much more than it already had before this whole mess.

And he only made it worse.

“I promise.”

What's up lonely?


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A/N: ...More angsty fluff. Party down.