He could feel it, as the cigarette burned slowly between his index and middle finger. The holding back. The nervous glances. The uneasy movements. He knew them all so well now.
   His life was full of moments like this. Ever since he could remember almost, someone always tried to hold back something from him.
   Groaning in frustration, he ran his hand through his hair. "Just say it already. Damn!"

   Her eyes looked bleak, and he could tell he put that look there. He knew it was him that dulled their once vibrant color with his harsh words and crazy mood swings that even had him off balance most of the time.
   He and everyone else was always left wondering when he was going to be okay, or when he'd be screaming like a madman for no apparent reasons. Except those that made sense somehow in his imperfect little mind.
   That was why he had tried so hard to stay away from her in the beginning. Why he always went the other way when he saw her coming.
   But after a tearful confrontation, he couldn't help himself. And he tried to take all that he could get from her. All that she would give, all that that he could steal without her knowing.

   She jumped at his harsh voice, and trembled slightly.
   Regretting it for a moment, he smashed the tip of his cigarette in the ashtray and straightened himself out on the couch. Sitting up, and pulling down the hem of his shirt, then unfurling his long legs. "Tell me what you've been trying so hard not to, but can't seem to not tell me anymore." He encouraged, more gently this time, the bitterness a slick underlying emotion.
   Yet he refused to put his arm around her. He would give her no comfort this morning.

   "You're never here anymore." She mumbled through hands that covered her face.
   "Excuse me? What?"
   Removing her hands and sighing loudly, she opened her mouth to repeat herself. "You're never-"
   "I heard what you said! I want to know what do you mean by that? You know I can't be here twenty-four-seven! You knew that before we even got serious!"
   She threw her arms wide. "Even when you're here, you're not!"
   He mimicked her moves. "What the hell kind of answer is that!"
   Closing her eyes, to try and calm down, she slowly stated, "Every time, you're always thinking of something else. You're always doing something else. Leaving me behind once again, like you do every damn time you go out on the road! You can't even give me a damn minute of your shitty ass precious time!"
   Realization slowly dawned, and he slowly started to back away from her.

   "What do you want from me?" He questioned her quietly, trying his level best to press his hands together so that they wouldn't have the chance to shake in front of her.
   "God!" She screamed, pushing herself from the couch angrily and hastily pacing. "What do you think I want?!"
   He growled low in his throat, "How am I supposed to know that? You're the one ranting and raving now about me not being here. So what do you want?"
   Sitting forward some, he braced his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his laced hands. "What do you want? A piece of my soul? My heart?"
   She launched herself at him, beating her hands against the tops of his shoulders and chest. "Damnit! I deserve something don't I? For all those times you left me, for all the times you wouldn't even look at me while you were here!"

   Grabbing her fists, and holding them together, he tried to calm her down before she did herself or him a lot of damage.
   When she stopped struggling against his grip, he set her away from him and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."
   It came out weak and whispery, and he wasn't all too sure that she had heard him until he saw her shoulders slump in defeat.
   "I don't want your sorry's." She explained with a deceptive calm voice, her hands clenched at her sides.
   "It's all that I can give you." His wide shoulders shrugged, "Besides goodbye."

   Standing, he pressed a chaste kiss against her cheek and moved around the room in a shuffle. "Take care, Shy."
   He didn't watch her gather up her coat. He didn't watch as she watched him for long moments. And he didn't watch as she stepped out of the room.
   Nor did he see her out the door, and watched her walk away from him.
   Forcing himself, he moved from the room, and walking down the hallway to avoid being there. He was under strict beliefs. If you didn't see it, then maybe it wasn't true. It wasn't happening.

   Moving towards the window in his room, he blindly looked out and watched the bare trees sway in the wind.
   Watched as the world spun around as he stood still and looked on. And he thought.
   Thought about all he should have done, and didn't do. All the words he should have said, but didn't even think to speak them.
   Then he thought of all the times that he missed an occasion. All the times he chose not to see the withdrawn or heartbroken looks on his girlfriend's face. Every time he ignored her when he came back, in favor of staying inside his room and relishing the quietness of familiarity.
   Of every time he refused to call her just because he didn't want to.

   He hated himself. Hated how he allowed himself to even think about being able to make some kind of relationship with her. Hated how he let himself be suckered into trying to in the first place.
   Clenching his teeth, he stepped away from the window, shut the blinds, and moved to close his bedroom door.
   The impact that he now had another hole in his life was devastating. And depressing as hell.
   Everyone had talked him into that relationship with Shy. Convincing him that it’s what he needed in his life.
   That he needed her.

   Looking around his room, he tried to think of all the reasons why he should be happy she was gone now.
   He would no longer have to feel guilty about missing something. Be in fear of her being harassed by media hounds or deranged fans.
   Wouldn't have to mark dates on the calendar in red to remind him of something other than practice and work.

   He smiled as he slowly felt a weight being lifted off his chest and shoulders, and took in a deep breath of air. Zac threw himself face down on his bed. Damn, he hated mornings. All his confrontations had happened in the morning. Every bad talk, every let down. All in the morning. Never late night. Never afternoon. Always morning.
   "Fuck." He groaned softly, his pillow muffling it. "I'm sleeping 'til noon from now on." He grumbled. "And no more relationships. No more. I'm too damned tired of them now."
   The pillow heated from his breath, and warmed his nose and cheeks. Smiling to himself, he rolled over, shut off his mind, snuggled into the pillow and fell asleep.