Appetite for Destruction

I Better Change My Sinking Thoughts (Before They Pull Me Under)

I was used to the quiet of pre-dawn, the way the fog lingered in the air that made my mouth smoky and my skin ice, a strange but welcome sensation. Everything was just beginning to stir, just a little, and the sky was overcast and grey; the kind of grey where if you looked too long your eyes began to hurt. It made the world look washed out. I thought it was fitting, considering my current state of mind.

I stumbled along in the wake of morning traffic, the three cups of coffee I'd had before leaving Peter's apartment doing nothing to alleviate the exhaustion weighing me down. I hadn't slept, again, and the lack of sleep and stress was going to send me spiralling into a breakdown soon.

When the familiar building came into sight I slowed down a little. Going back to the loft suddenly seemed like a terrible idea, but the longer I stayed away the harder it would be to actually return. I wasn't sure if I could live in the loft without Derek; we'd made it a home together, argued over taking down walls and who got which room, dragged the furniture up the dozens of stairs. Maybe I'd move into one of the other rooms of the building, make a new home without Derek.

The walk up the stairs was over much too soon and I found myself staring at the heavy door that separated me from the loft. I had to steel myself for a moment before pulling open the door and stepping inside. I froze at the sight that greeted me.

He was standing in front of the wall of windows, morning light shining in from behind him, a perfect picture. This was him, and not the version I last saw, bloody and pale and terrified as he toppled over the edge. No, this was the Derek from my memories, alive and well.

I'd been mourning. I'd been miserable. My brother was dead.

Was.

Because that was the point.

Derek was meant to be dead. Not standing in the middle of the loft like he'd been here the whole time, like he hadn't fallen to his death before my eyes. I just stared at him, wondering if he was a ghost or a hallucination. So many times for the past two days I'd conjured this reunion with my brother, yet not once had I anticipated that I would see him alive again.

The seconds stretched agonizingly between us and then Derek said, "Ginger?" And that deep, familiar voice confirmed to me that this was real, that Derek was standing right there. Derek was alive. My brother was alive. It took everything in me not to burst into tears and tackle him with a hug.

Instead I grit my teeth and balled my hands into fists as I closed the distance between us. When I was standing directly in front of him I examined his features, to be sure of him, then pulled my right hand back and punched him in the face.

Derek must have expected it as he shifted slightly to lessen the blow; he could have avoided it completely, but instead he chose to allow me to physically pour my emotions onto him. The pain in my hand was nothing compared to the pain I'd endured every day since seeing him fall.

"You're an asshole," I snarled, and then I was clinging desperately to him, burying my face in his shoulder as the tears came. Every worry and doubt I'd been experiencing this whole time floated away with the feel of his hands on my back, the warmth of his chest seeping into my core.

"I'm sorry," He said quietly, like he was divulging a secret. I choked on a trembling breath, squeezing my eyes shut against the hot sting. I didn't want to move from the warmth of his embrace.

"You're still an asshole." I said, more rasp to my voice and less edge. I felt complete again, less like I was making myself walk with a broken leg and quietly bleeding out the whole way. "I'm only mad because you didn't sign your car over to me."

"Yeah, I should have done that." He agreed, and I couldn't help but smile a little. "I'm sorry." I knew he wasn't talking about the car.

"Oh," a new voice said, and I pulled away from Derek to look over at the source. A woman was standing in the doorway to Derek's room, and I frowned at her, eyes running over the wavy brown hair and light blue eyes, the rosy cheeks and kind face. She looked very familiar to me but I didn't know why -