A/N: Haven't a clue where this one is going but angst is always good for the muse so here goes.
Key West Blues
Prologue
It had been a long day of pain, piled upon an even longer month of pain – blinding, cutting, pain
And more pain when she had said what she'd said. And why had he done what he'd done when she had said it – just look at her, watch her walk away. He didn't even know.
Later on, he'd tried to do the right thing, had said he was sorry, that they needed to talk. She'd merely said, "Sure, later." Her manner so calm, her tone so cool like she already decided that they were over. Like whatever he had to say wouldn't make a difference, like he shouldn't even bother. And fear had replaced pain ... or maybe just revealed it.
Now he stood at his open locker, one hand pressed to the hard, cold metal of the adjacent locker, the other palming the sharp edge of his door, feeling neither cold nor sharpness, staring into the black recesses of the locker, wondering what it was he even wanted.
Fuck that. He knew what he wanted. He wanted the pain to go away.
He hadn't been himself since Ruben had died. She'd understood his closing off, had stood by patiently, waiting, hoping, that he'd turn to her for support when he was ready, that she'd mean as much to him as he meant to her.
But when he'd finally started interacting with her again it had been in a lighthearted manner like nothing had ever happened and it had felt wrong. But she'd gone along with it, giving leeway, even teasing him when he forgot her birthday, although she could understand why he would forget it. After all she understood grief and pain and loss. But maybe she just didn't understand him.
Therefore she'd been resolute after he'd turned her down for lunch. It wasn't the isolated incident but the whole month of incidents that had led her to her decision and she needed a clean break – to move on.
She'd rehearsed it ten different ways a hundred times over until she felt she could say it without caving into emotion. And after she had said it, she'd walked away when she'd seen his face – a face that said he hadn't a clue.
Anything he had said after that had been tarnished and insincere.
All she wanted now was for the pain to go away.
