~*~*~*~*~*~
Puttin’ on my coat
Wanna break out from these walls
Catch a bus and take a walk downtown
Maybe run into a friend
I just know I got to get out
Everywhere I go
I see lovers hand in hand
Reminds me of the way it used to be
Well, baby, it felt so right
When you were walkin’ with me
Don’t you see I’m cryin’
How could you leave me all alone
I’m cryin’
Just can’t make it on my own
I dream of you the whole day through
But when the night time falls
I’m all alone
Cryin’ all alone
When I close my eyes
I can feel your lips on mine
Nobody ever touched me like you did
There ain’t a thing I wouldn’t give
Baby, for just one more kiss
Don’t you see I’m cryin’
How could you leave me all alone
I’m cryin’
Just can’t make it on my own
I dream of you the whole day through
But when the night time falls
I’m all alone
Cryin’ all alone
My friends say I’ll love again
I wanna believe, but why pretend
I’m always gonna feel the same
No one will ever take your place
No, nothing can compare
With the love that we share
Don’t you see I’m cryin’
How could you leave me all alone
I’m cryin’
I just can’t make it on my own
I dream of you the whole day through
But when the night time falls
I’m all alone
Cryin’ all alone
I'm Cryin' -- Shanice
~*~*~*~*~*~
I tapped the cigarette I was smoking gently, letting the ashes fall into the sand as I walked. I thought that coming to the beach would be a good idea. That the smell would be good for my lungs, that the sound would soothe my nerves, that the darkness would match my mood. But the beach just doesn't have the same appeal that it used to.
In fact, nothing has the same appeal that it used to. Ever since Dawson and I broke up again, nothing seems the same. I'm not sure that anything will ever be the same again.
No one told me that first love was supposed to hurt. But it hurts like someone cut me open and decided to scoop my heart out with a spoon. It's pain, and at sixteen, I've had enough pain. I could hold my breath wondering if anything good will come to me in my life, but I've learned the hard way that's not going to happen.
Just when I thought I could stop being so bitter and cynical about life, everything fell apart again. I feel betrayed by Dawson. I can rationalize why I shouldn't feel that way, but it doesn't matter, because I still do. Even love can't overcome that.
I'm not sure what that means for me, though. I still love him more than anything, but there's no way I can be with him and trust him, and respect him.
I keep trying to tell myself it's better this way, that I was way too serious for sixteen. I can almost believe it. But just when I decide to cut my losses and move on, I think of him. I hear his voice, or see his eyes shine, or picture his smile. It takes me ten steps back, and I'm worse off. I don't know how long it will take me to get over him. I don't know if I ever will.
When I finally settled into the sand, I was only about ten feet from another person. If it had been anything but the full moon, I wouldn't have noticed it was Pacey. His neck was twisted up as he looked at the stars. He must've felt my eyes on him, because I heard him speak.
"Nice night, huh?" he said, not even bothering to look at me.
"I guess you could say that," I mumbled, trying to find whatever it was his eyes were fixed on in the sky.
"Is that you, Joey?" he asked, finally looking at me.
"It's me," I sighed, suddenly realizing I was probably better off with him not knowing it was me. I took a deep drag of the cigarette. He would, no doubt, have questions about that too.
"So are you doing like me? Trying hard to get away from everything?" he asked.
"Yeah. Is it working?"
"Not a chance." His voice sounded so defeated, and in that moment I began to think I may have found the only person capable of being my equal in having reasons to hate the world.
I crawled over to his side then. I'm not sure why. I could've been looking for someone to feel sorry with me. I could've just been looking for a distraction. I really don't know what it was.
"Somehow I'm hoping that you're as miserable as I am," I said to him. I figured that was a good mix to strike up -- almost a question, and plenty of mis-aimed hostility.
"I suppose I could be," he said. His breath was saturated with the smell of liquor, but I'm not sure how much he had been drinking. "I'm not really sure how you're feeling. You don't talk to me."
I knew what he meant, of course. And I didn't talk to him, hardly at all, in fact. I'd think about it sometimes, and never know why. Pacey was just Pacey, and there was no rhyme or reason as to why we're this or that to each other. That's just how it would be. Maybe it's just because of bad timing that I've barely uttered twenty words to him in the past six months.
I couldn't say that to him, so I ignored it. I put my cigarette out in the sand, and looked at the stars. "I keep hoping it'll all go away," I said. "That suddenly everything will be so simple--just like it used to be."
"Welcome to the real world," he said, his tone biting. "It really sucks."
"You wait your whole life for someone who loves you--"
"And something completely out of your control takes it away from you," he finished.
It was an equal playing field after all. We were both hurting the same, even if we did take different roads to get there. Suddenly, I felt a connection to Pacey.
"I'm in so much pain," I said, my voice coming out hoarse. "I'm so lonely, Pace."
"Me too," he whispered.
It was a surprisingly strange moment. People like Joey Potter and Pacey Witter are just not supposed to show weakness. We're not supposed to be lonely. That's probably the only reason we could share that with each other.
"So what does it mean?" he asked.
"It means that I don't wanna be alone anymore, Pace," I said. I knew what I was saying. I'm just not entirely sure of why I said it. I just want to forget. And maybe it's time I put all that thinking aside, and just learn to be.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "How do you take it?"
"How did you want me to take it?"
"I just want you to take it," I said softly. "Take it as it is."
He moved closer to me, running his thumb along my right cheekbone. "Is that what you mean?" he breathed. "Close enough?"
"Maybe," I said. Suddenly, I didn't feel so lonely. I didn't feel like Dawson would forever be the only thing in my life. Pacey was what I needed, as insane as I know that sounds.
I could feel his hot breath on my face. His thumb traced my jawbone, and moved across my bottom lip. I closed my eyes for a moment. "I miss having someone touch me," I said.
"I miss having someone to touch," he said simply. We weren't there because we wanted to be there: We were there in spite of everyone else, trying to prove we didn't need anyone else, when, in that moment, we desperately needed each other.
"Kiss me," I said. And he did. His lips brushed gently against mine. They were rough, chapped. The kiss was tentative, and we were both still very tense. His hand slowly came up to caress my cheek, and it felt good. I could feel all the anxiety and stress rushing out of my body.
He pulled back, and I felt his eyes peering into me. He moved his middle and index fingers along my bottom lip. I wanted to say something, but I just didn't feel like I could pick the right words, much less put them into sentences or say them.
He leaned closer, his fingers rested near my chin when our lips met again. As an invitation, I parted my lips. I felt his tongue slowly trace the path his fingers had just seconds earlier.
Our tongues seemed to dance to a perfect harmony, as we stayed there, unaware of whatever else there was around us. This wasn't about passion. It had nothing to do with fervor. This was about comfort. It felt good to be there with him, nothing expected, nothing gained but connecting with another human being.
He moved his hand down my ribs, stopping to stroke my thigh just below my shorts. I moved my hand to his cheek, twining the other in his wild, brown hair.
I don't know how long we stayed there like that. When we parted, we didn't give each other any space. I could still feel the heat from his body as I fought to catch my breath. My hands still rested on his head.
"Thank you," I whispered. It was all I could think to say to him. They were two commonly said words, but in this situation, I felt like they had so much meaning.
"Stay with me," he said. I nodded my head softly.
He laid down in the sand, and pulled me to him. We stayed close to each other, and he held me tight as I rested my head on his shoulder.
We didn't say anything else. We just laid there in the dark, looking at the stars. It wasn't long before I fell to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It took me a few minutes to realize where I was as I woke up. I wasn't exactly sure how I spent the night on the beach without freezing. When I felt the strong arms that surrounded me, I understood.
I felt safe, wrapped up in someone else. I didn't want to move. I knew that what had happened between me and Pacey had been shallow. We were both just looking for comfort where ever we could find it.
"Jo, are you awake?" I heard him whisper.
I turned over on my back to look at him. "Yeah," I said. I reached up to wipe a bit of sleep from the corner of his eye, and he smiled gently.
"Thank you for staying," he said.
"I needed to," I responded. Something about the moment made me uneasy. Perhaps it was because I thought we would lay there all day if one of us didn't move. "I really need a cigarette," I sighed.
He nodded and sat up. Using the backs of his hands, he wiped his eyes. His elbows rested on his knees as he watched me struggle with the match. Right then I decided the first thing I was going to do today was finally buy a lighter. He took the matchbook from me, and lit the cigarette.
I breathed a sigh of relief, after I inhaled deeply. "When did you start smoking?" he asked me.
"Couple weeks," I said. "It helps soothe the nerves." I looked back at him for a moment noticing his pale face, his weary eyes. "How long have you been drinking?"
"About the same, I suppose," he answered. "I'm not going out every night and getting drunk. It's just enough to take the edge off."
I nodded my head. We were both looking to take the edge off, I suppose. That's obviously why we're here together. Of course, I'm still not sure why I don't want to leave.
"I want to leave this place," he said. "I'm so tired of looking at the same things I've looked at all my life. I'm so tired of memories at every corner."
"So let's get out of here," I said. It was more thinking out loud than a real suggestion. It seemed so Freudian, like words I wouldn't say if I thought about them, but still something I wanted to do with every fiber of my being.
"Where should we go?"
We. He said we. I'm not sure why the prospect makes me absolutely giddy, other than the fact that I'm aching to get away from the same old tattered sites.
"We should go somewhere with more going on than in this place," I said.
"That's just about everywhere," he sighed.
"You really want to go somewhere?" I asked. I wanted to be sure that this just wasn't some off-the-cuff remark, because I was already excited at the prospect of going somewhere and being alone with Pacey. I'm not sure why I want to be alone with Pacey. Somehow, being with him has made the pain lessen.
I'm not looking to fall in love or feel anything for that matter. I just want to be with him. I want to let him kiss me, and hold me, and touch me. I want to feel desirable and loved. I think I deserve that much.
"Will you go?" he asked, in lieu of answering my question.
I nodded. "I want to get out of here as badly as you do. I guess the question that remains is where do we go and how do we get there."
"Bus?" he asked. "I've got a credit card."
"Your dad's credit card?" I asked cautiously.
"I don't give a fuck," he said. "I'll think about that when I get back."
"So where to?" I asked, taking another drag from the cigarette.
"Somewhere that's alive," he said. It seemed rather ironic to me that he used the word alive, almost implying we weren't alive. Perhaps we weren't.
"New York?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I was thinking somewhere more like Vegas."
"You want to ride the bus to Las Vegas?" I said. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Maybe," he said. "I just wanna get away, forget about here if I can."
"How about Atlantic City?"
"So let's go," he said. "Right now."
I have to admit, I wasn't expecting the "right now." It was the best way, though. We just get up and leave, not thinking twice, not second guessing a thing.
It was part of living. It was time to be alive.
~*~*~*~*~*~
We both got into our houses unnoticed, figuring it was best to call home after we were already there. I'm sure that Bessie would be easier on me than Pacey's dad would be on him. Of course, he didn't seem to care, so I tried not to think about it.
The whole time going back to my house, and throwing some clothes into a plastic grocery bag, I didn't think twice about doing this. That is very un-Joey-like behavior. I wanted to go. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to forget.
Pacey and I had walked to the bus station in relative silence, as I chain smoked. Once we were on the bus and going, I felt like I had to say something. He seemed so solemn, I wanted to choose my words carefully. "Are we running away?" I asked.
He nodded his head, and said, "Yes." He looked over at me questioningly. "Does that bother you?"
"I feel like I should be strong enough to face it," I said. "But I realized that I'm not."
"Me either," he said. "Do you think that's why we're together?"
"I don't care why we're together," I said, rather truthfully. "I'm just glad we are. I just want to forget."
"This is going to be good for the both of us," he said. "We don't have to think or talk about it. We can just be."
"Sounds like something new," I said, feebly attempting to smile.
"Get some rest," he said. "This is going to take a while."
I knew he was right. I laid my head on his shoulder, linking my arm in his. He began to stroke my hand softly, as I fought to keep my eyes open.
This was very strange to me. Pacey and I rarely connected, and the few times we have, we've never shared space like this. This should scare me. It should disgust me. Something. Three months ago, I wouldn't have dreamt that I would be here. But right now being here seems so right to me.
As I drifted off to sleep, I fought desperately not to second-guess myself. I was sixteen years old, unattached, and had every right to be there. Pacey and I were living life at the same tempo, and that was what mattered most.
~*~*~*~*~*~