Notes: I promised myself I wasn't going to write a 47 Second Post-Ep. And then I promised myself I wouldn't post the 47 Second Post-Ep. But here we are. All thanks and blame can be placed at Ms. Penguin's feet.
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Less Than Loving Her More
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And it was fine, when it was just that he loved her more.
Because he could live with loving her more than she loved him, had been living with it, and it was always the case, wasn't it? No partnership, no relationship was equal. There was always one person who loved the other more, who needed the other more. There was no such thing as equality in love, no sense of fair or just. Hearts weren't split down the middle. Love wasn't weighed or measured it just was and sometimes it was more, sometimes it was less and more give than take, that was them, and that was okay. Had been okay.
But this?
This was not okay.
Because she didn't love him at all, did she?
No.
Not at all. Because this couldn't be love. It wasn't. Need, maybe, but not love. Because this whole time? This whole god damn time? She knew. She fucking knew. The whole time and she knew all of it.
Every time he'd opened his mouth to tell her. Every minute he'd spent agonised over silence. Over the need for it. Every word he'd held back, every moment they hadn't shared. Everything they hadn't celebrated. Hadn't mourned. Every time he hadn't said I love you because she wasn't ready.
And she? She remembered every minute of it. And so she must know. Must know how his heart had poured out along side hers in the grass. Must remember the splash of his tears against her face.
God, but how much of his life had he wasted following her around? Pining after her like a lovesick fool? How much of his heart had he wasted?
And she'd known. She'd let him. She'd led him.
She'd known and then she'd ignored him for months and that was what? A punishment for loving her?
Had to be.
Only –
Some things are better not remembered.
– And she'd been telling him then, hadn't she? Daring him to tell her again, lay himself bare, but he'd believed her and that made him the idiot, didn't it?
It'd been so easy for her to ignore him for three months. To lock him out of her life. To throw him away.
And he, idiot that he was, he still believed her when she'd shown up in his life again. I needed time. He still followed her. He still loved her. She'd played him, played off his hopes, his desires. She'd known exactly which button to press, when to press it, because he'd given her the key, shown her the beat of his heart, thought it was his last chance to share it with her.
And after.
Even after he'd never thought she'd use it against him, never thought she'd use it to control him.
He'd never thought she was the kind of person who could.
But he was wrong, because she had, hadn't she? Yeah, that'd been exactly what she'd done.
Not ready yet. Except she wasn't even talking about him, was she? Wasn't talking about being ready for him. Just another lie. Another game. She played him, led him like a dog on a leash, like one of her suspects in an interrogation room. Fed him enough information to make him follow her, make him hand over what she wanted, and he'd believed her. Because he'd loved her. Trusted her.
She hadn't even waited to ask him for information about her mother's case.
And he hadn't even realised.
He'd just believed her.
Because he'd wanted to and she'd made it easy for him and yeah, he wants to still. Wants to keep loving her, wants to believe it's only more to her less, not more to her not at all.
But he can't.
How can he?
Because she was laughing at him the whole time.
God.
He was such an idiot.
But no.
No more.
Because he doesn't need her. Doesn't want to need her. And he'll get over her, move past her.
He deserved more. More than being played with, more than being stringed along for a year. He deserved someone who'd love him. He wanted someone who would. Someone who could.
No, he wasn't going to waste any more of his life on someone who didn't want him.
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Fin.