keep your eyes on me - part 4.
Remember this? Here's part four. C:
“Barney?”
“Mm.”
“Barney, dear, get off.”
“Wha- oh. Sorry.”
He retracts his arm reluctantly from where it was slung over her waist.
“You were crying in your sleep, Cassie,” he murmurs. “I thought it might - I don’t know. Comfort you a bit.”
“Was I?” she says in mild alarm, touching her cheeks and finding them crusty from dried tears.
He watches her carefully. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”
“I don’t think so,” she mumbles, blinking rapidly.
He doesn’t reply, he just finds her hand.
“It’s Saturday,” he says eventually, offering her a smile. “You can sleep in.”
“But I have to get home,” she says blearily. “My dad will be - worried, yeah.”
“I called him last night,” she slumps back down. “It’s fine, you can stay the whole weekend if you want.”
Her eyelids flutter closed, and she lets out a breath. Her face is pale, eyes lined with weariness, and this isn’t his Cassie (the girl who smiles and smiles); he aches for her.
“Cassie,” he murmurs, gathering both her hands into his now. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, trying to tug their hands apart but failing. His grip is strong.
“You look sad,” he says stoutly.
“I’m not,” she says, her voice slightly breathless. “I’m fine, honest.”
“Cassie,” he shuffles closer. “Listen, it’s okay to tell me -“
“There’s nothing to tell!” she cries, shrinking away.
They stare at each other for a moment, faces still less than a foot apart. Barney swallows. Cassie glances away.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m all right, I promise.”
“Sure?” he says, boldly reaching out to touch the soft skin of her arm.
“Yeah,” and she smiles.
--
She does stay for the weekend, and it’s the best one he’s had in a long time.
They finish all of their homework on Saturday, and he drags her out on a walk round the harbour in the afternoon. It’s freezing but neither of them care. They name the boats and lean on the harbour walls. They buy some fudge and Cassie looks round the crockery shops.
This is perfect, he thinks.
Cassie smiles and laughs a surprising amount for someone with a hangover, he discovers. She shrieks and giggles when he pretends to shove her into the harbour. He withstands her feeble pummelling of her fists on his chest when he ‘saves’ her.
“You,” she gasps between laughing fits. “Are an arsehole.”
“Well,” he says, stalking away from her, but turning back and grinning. She snickers and loops her arm through his.
“Right,” she says, hand smoothing down her wavy hair. “I want to look in Beside The Sea.”
“Okay,” he steers them back towards the town. “Something for your dad?”
“No,” she’s gazing over at the big red building again. “For my room.”
He nods, trying to ignore the uncomfortable squirming in his stomach. “Haven’t seen them around anywhere.”
“Who?” she asks sharply.
“Those - those boys,” he says nervously. “Weren’t you looking for them?”
“Not really,” she replies slowly, appraising him with her dark eyes.
“Never mind,” he walks a little faster, but he hears her exasperated sigh.
--
They go home to find his parents reading the papers and the television on in the living room, so they scamper upstairs to his room with their fudge. Cassie’s chattering about her finds in Beside The Sea; a glass star stained purple, beautiful wooden wind chimes and a tiny canvas
painting of boats.
“Look at it the light, Barney!” she says breathlessly.
“Whoa,” he says, following her gaze. “That’s really pretty, Cassie.”
“And the painting,” she says, cradling it in her hands. “I love the colours.”
“It’s nice and bright,” he remarks, breaking off a piece of his chocolate fudge and shoving it into his mouth. “Fudge?”
“Ooh, yes, my orange chocolate one, please.”
The fudge depletes rather quickly.
--
“N-no, I don’t - D-Daddy, please, I’m sorry-“
He’s jolted awake again, and automatically reaches out for her. She’s sobbing, hands clutched tight over her face and her legs locked up so she’s curled into a ball.
“Cassie?” he murmurs, hands stroking hers and shaking her gently. “Cassie, love, it’s all right, he’s not here.”
“P-please don’t shout, Daddy-“
“Hey, hey, Cassie, wake up.”
“B-Barney?”
“Yeah, it’s me, you’re all right,” he says, cupping the back of her head as her fingers crawl away from her eyes. She’s hiccupping, gasping for air.
“He was horrible again,” she mouths, and he starts to run his fingers through her hair. “He told me I was stupid.”
“You’re not,” he hisses fiercely. “You’re wonderful, Cassie.”
“B-but I didn’t remember to buy the milk,” she wails, almost collapsing into tears again.
“Look at me,” he says, fingers digging into her scalp slightly. “Cassie, look at me.”
Tears dripping from her jaw, she does.
“Your dad,” he begins, not letting his voice tremble. “Your dad doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t realise how - how special you are.”
“I-“
“Shh,” he says, pulling her into his arms now. “Listen to me, okay? He doesn’t get you, doesn’t know you. And he should, because he’s your dad.”
He inhales shakily. “He’s - he’s friggin’ out of his mind, all right? He doesn’t treat you like he should. He should be damn proud of you, love.”
She’s sobbing again, tiny sobs, her eyes wide and wet.
“I’m proud of you,” he continues, resting his forehead on hers. “I love-“
He breaks off, because he’s not ready. Not yet. He needs to think about and define what exactly this is, what he feels between them and when he looks at her.
“I love - your things. That you find,” he says swiftly, registering a frown flicker for a second on her features. “Because you see things in everything, like stuff I wouldn’t see. And - I love that.”
He feels his cheeks heat suddenly, and ducks his head.
“Barney?” her voice hitches on the first syllable, and he looks up just in time for her arms to come around him too.
“Don’t listen to him,” he finishes, nose buried in her hair. “You’re precious.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she mumbles into his shoulder.
“You’d be okay, I reckon,” he says.
“Nah,” she shifts her head a little. “I wouldn’t have anyone to tell me I’m worth anything.”
His throat closes up and he just holds her tighter.
“Barney?”
“Mm.”
“Barney, dear, get off.”
“Wha- oh. Sorry.”
He retracts his arm reluctantly from where it was slung over her waist.
“You were crying in your sleep, Cassie,” he murmurs. “I thought it might - I don’t know. Comfort you a bit.”
“Was I?” she says in mild alarm, touching her cheeks and finding them crusty from dried tears.
He watches her carefully. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”
“I don’t think so,” she mumbles, blinking rapidly.
He doesn’t reply, he just finds her hand.
“It’s Saturday,” he says eventually, offering her a smile. “You can sleep in.”
“But I have to get home,” she says blearily. “My dad will be - worried, yeah.”
“I called him last night,” she slumps back down. “It’s fine, you can stay the whole weekend if you want.”
Her eyelids flutter closed, and she lets out a breath. Her face is pale, eyes lined with weariness, and this isn’t his Cassie (the girl who smiles and smiles); he aches for her.
“Cassie,” he murmurs, gathering both her hands into his now. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, trying to tug their hands apart but failing. His grip is strong.
“You look sad,” he says stoutly.
“I’m not,” she says, her voice slightly breathless. “I’m fine, honest.”
“Cassie,” he shuffles closer. “Listen, it’s okay to tell me -“
“There’s nothing to tell!” she cries, shrinking away.
They stare at each other for a moment, faces still less than a foot apart. Barney swallows. Cassie glances away.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m all right, I promise.”
“Sure?” he says, boldly reaching out to touch the soft skin of her arm.
“Yeah,” and she smiles.
--
She does stay for the weekend, and it’s the best one he’s had in a long time.
They finish all of their homework on Saturday, and he drags her out on a walk round the harbour in the afternoon. It’s freezing but neither of them care. They name the boats and lean on the harbour walls. They buy some fudge and Cassie looks round the crockery shops.
This is perfect, he thinks.
Cassie smiles and laughs a surprising amount for someone with a hangover, he discovers. She shrieks and giggles when he pretends to shove her into the harbour. He withstands her feeble pummelling of her fists on his chest when he ‘saves’ her.
“You,” she gasps between laughing fits. “Are an arsehole.”
“Well,” he says, stalking away from her, but turning back and grinning. She snickers and loops her arm through his.
“Right,” she says, hand smoothing down her wavy hair. “I want to look in Beside The Sea.”
“Okay,” he steers them back towards the town. “Something for your dad?”
“No,” she’s gazing over at the big red building again. “For my room.”
He nods, trying to ignore the uncomfortable squirming in his stomach. “Haven’t seen them around anywhere.”
“Who?” she asks sharply.
“Those - those boys,” he says nervously. “Weren’t you looking for them?”
“Not really,” she replies slowly, appraising him with her dark eyes.
“Never mind,” he walks a little faster, but he hears her exasperated sigh.
--
They go home to find his parents reading the papers and the television on in the living room, so they scamper upstairs to his room with their fudge. Cassie’s chattering about her finds in Beside The Sea; a glass star stained purple, beautiful wooden wind chimes and a tiny canvas
painting of boats.
“Look at it the light, Barney!” she says breathlessly.
“Whoa,” he says, following her gaze. “That’s really pretty, Cassie.”
“And the painting,” she says, cradling it in her hands. “I love the colours.”
“It’s nice and bright,” he remarks, breaking off a piece of his chocolate fudge and shoving it into his mouth. “Fudge?”
“Ooh, yes, my orange chocolate one, please.”
The fudge depletes rather quickly.
--
“N-no, I don’t - D-Daddy, please, I’m sorry-“
He’s jolted awake again, and automatically reaches out for her. She’s sobbing, hands clutched tight over her face and her legs locked up so she’s curled into a ball.
“Cassie?” he murmurs, hands stroking hers and shaking her gently. “Cassie, love, it’s all right, he’s not here.”
“P-please don’t shout, Daddy-“
“Hey, hey, Cassie, wake up.”
“B-Barney?”
“Yeah, it’s me, you’re all right,” he says, cupping the back of her head as her fingers crawl away from her eyes. She’s hiccupping, gasping for air.
“He was horrible again,” she mouths, and he starts to run his fingers through her hair. “He told me I was stupid.”
“You’re not,” he hisses fiercely. “You’re wonderful, Cassie.”
“B-but I didn’t remember to buy the milk,” she wails, almost collapsing into tears again.
“Look at me,” he says, fingers digging into her scalp slightly. “Cassie, look at me.”
Tears dripping from her jaw, she does.
“Your dad,” he begins, not letting his voice tremble. “Your dad doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t realise how - how special you are.”
“I-“
“Shh,” he says, pulling her into his arms now. “Listen to me, okay? He doesn’t get you, doesn’t know you. And he should, because he’s your dad.”
He inhales shakily. “He’s - he’s friggin’ out of his mind, all right? He doesn’t treat you like he should. He should be damn proud of you, love.”
She’s sobbing again, tiny sobs, her eyes wide and wet.
“I’m proud of you,” he continues, resting his forehead on hers. “I love-“
He breaks off, because he’s not ready. Not yet. He needs to think about and define what exactly this is, what he feels between them and when he looks at her.
“I love - your things. That you find,” he says swiftly, registering a frown flicker for a second on her features. “Because you see things in everything, like stuff I wouldn’t see. And - I love that.”
He feels his cheeks heat suddenly, and ducks his head.
“Barney?” her voice hitches on the first syllable, and he looks up just in time for her arms to come around him too.
“Don’t listen to him,” he finishes, nose buried in her hair. “You’re precious.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she mumbles into his shoulder.
“You’d be okay, I reckon,” he says.
“Nah,” she shifts her head a little. “I wouldn’t have anyone to tell me I’m worth anything.”
His throat closes up and he just holds her tighter.