A.N: Thanks to all of you guys for giving such great response to Thin Walls. They made me happy :) You know those stories that suddenly get into your head and won't leave until you've written them, and then, looking back, you realize how strange it is or something? Yeah, this story is one of them. Here's another random, I-have-no-idea-where-the-hell-this-came-from oneshot. My mind is a crazy, weird thing, haha. This time, I'm trying out the first person style with Derek. Hopefully it isn't too terrible...have fun (hopefully) reading!

Lights Off

You can spend as much time as you want in the shower, Casey. You can scrub your skin until it's raw. But you won't ever be able to wash the feel of me away from it.

It's funny, actually, how clueless and naive Dad and Nora can be sometimes—we always get into a fight or mess something up whenever they're gone, so you would think by now that they'd learned not to leave us alone in the house. But no, they decide to go for the weekend. It's also funny, how everything works out—somehow, the other sibs aren't going to be home for the night too.

Just you and me.

Hasn't anyone learned yet that you and me alone in a house together is a recipe for disaster?

I won't give you a reason why I stayed home last night. Why I didn't go out with my friends, on a date, or do something else. I won't tell you why I chose to stay in the same place as you instead.

You don't deserve it.

What was that argument of ours about, again? Not that it matters, anyway—we'll fight over anything. We always have. We grab whatever excuse we can take, just so long as we can insult and argue with each other. Just because. (Do you feel it too, Casey? The rush, the thrill? Or is it just me?)

You came into my room and yelled at me (You should've realized by then, sweetheart, that you were wasting your breath.) You. You were the one who came forward. You yelled first, said the first insult, started the fight.

So in retrospect, this is all your fault.

I'll let you in on something: I always thought that when it happened, there'd be some amount of alcohol involved. Because you're you. Perfect, prim little Casey, who always needs an excuse for everything she does. So that when you make a mistake, it won't be entirely your fault. Because you can't afford to make mistakes, right?

(All humans have flaws, Casey. I thought you knew that. After all, you're the smart one, aren't you?)

There was no alcohol, though. Just anger. Electricity. How we crossed the line isn't exactly clear to me—then again, it doesn't matter, anyway. It was so easy, after all this time, to forget that damn line even existed, forget everything that stood between us, and just…let go.

Wrong and right didn't stand a fucking chance against us last night.

I had you up against the wall, my lips were everywhere, and god, it felt so good. You gasped and whimpered and for the first time, you lost the Perfect Mask you always wore. In my arms, you were the Casey I knew and saw—the flawed one, the one you hid so well beneath your smiles and grades. The real one.

That's what surrender feels like, Case. Felt good, didn't it?

You shivered when I touched your bare skin, and I felt powerful. When your body hit the mattress, you said my name like it was two words again, and I almost lost control. I could barely think straight—and it was all because of you.

This is what you do to me, Casey. You drive me completely crazy. (And it's so damn unfair that I still can't hate you in spite of it.)

Then…..in the midst of it all, you suddenly reached out and turned off my lamp, the only source of light in the room.

It's funny, really, how one simple gesture can cause so much pain (And that, kiddies, is the reason why I wish I didn't have a heart.)

Here's a part I won't forget: As the dark settled, I stopped. Didn't do anything. The only sound was our breathing. You didn't ask questions, and I didn't trust myself to speak. It still hurt, even more since I understood why you did it.

You turned off the light so that you couldn't see while we sinned.

In the dark, no can see you—the real you, anyway. But I still can. And I think that's why you want to hate me so much. Because I know, Casey. I know who you really are. I know what you want.

You wanted me. And it scared you, because what good, perfect daughters would want their stepbrothers to fuck them, to take them over the edge?

In the dark, you can pretend. Pretend it's not me, because you aren't ready to admit this whole thing to yourself yet. Pretend it's some nice boyfriend of yours that everyone approves of and wouldn't raise that many eyebrows if they found out you were sleeping with him (compared to me.) You did it so you could get what you wanted, get the satisfaction you've been craving for so long, and at the same time, manage not to feel so guilty about it. Because it's dark. And it's so goddamn easy to pretend.

Since when did you become so heartless?

And more importantly, since when did I lose this game we've been playing?

(When did I become so easy to break? Weren't you supposed to be the fragile one?)

I didn't pull away though. I didn't tell you to leave. I gave you what you wanted because I wanted it too. Pathetic idiot that I had become, I was willing to take any scrap you were willing to give me. Because. (You have me. Can't you see that yet?)

I did more than that, though. Every kiss, every touch was meant to mark, to claim. Tomorrow, you can feel as many shades of regret as you want. But you won't ever forget it, forget me, and how I made you feel.

It'll drive you crazy. That, you deserve. After all, you dragged me down to this. It's only fair that you go down with me.

We run into each other in the hallway later the next morning. The silence stretches on and we don't do anything but look at each other. I break first and try to walk past you, but you grab my arm.

"Derek," you say. There's a pause before you speak again. You look me straight in the eyes. "No regrets."

Suddenly, I don't feel so empty anymore.

You aren't ready yet (and how messed up is it that I am? When did the universe go haywire and twist our roles around?). That's one of the reasons why you turned the lights off. I get it now. But you have a look in your eyes that tells me, Someday, Derek. And then I feel it.

It feels a lot like hope.

I nod. "No regrets." You let go of my arm and we go in opposite directions. I go to my room and lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The pillow smells like that strawberry shampoo you love to use so much, and I can still feel you. Nothing else has changed, though, and for now, we won't do anything else but walk away.

Someday, Derek. Someday.

And because I'm so far gone, I'll wait, but one day, I swear to god, we're going to finish what we started, and damn it, we're going to do it right.

And the lights will be on the entire time.