"(Don't) Let Me Go"
By: singyourmelody
Disclaimer: Song lyrics taken from The Fray's "Never Say Never." Don't own these characters, although my birthday is coming up. Just saying. Also, this is set in the future. Not sure how far in the future, just in the future.
"we're pulling apart
and coming together
again and again"
He never says it. Not out loud. Not to her. She knows he feels it. It's in the little things, her grandmother once told her. And she believes that.
She believes it when he takes her hand after she's had a hard day on set. They're not even walking anywhere, but are just sitting. He's flipping through a magazine and she's trying to relax on the couch. Her head is back and her eyes are closed and she is letting the calm surround her when suddenly she feels his fingers on hers. He laces them together. She opens her eyes and turns her head to look at him, but he's intently reading an article. A soft smile forms on her face as she rests her head back again. They sit there for an hour.
And she believes it when he's so careful not to wake her in the mornings. His alarm goes off much earlier than hers, but he tiptoes out of bed and into the bathroom, silently closing the door behind him, taking extra time to turn the doorknob slowly. She almost always wakes up when she hears the shower running, but she'd never tell him that. He lightly kisses her forehead before leaving for the day. The feeling of his lips on her skin when the room is still dark and she's still partially dreaming quickly becomes her favorite part of the day.
It's the little things. And those "little" things are what make this next part the hardest.
Not working out. Wasn't supposed to be a forever sort of thing. Better off going separate ways now. Saving from worse pain later.
It was good, and then it wasn't.
She misses his laugh. She misses his ridiculous self-confidence that she was always a little bit envious of. And she misses who she was with him. A better version of herself. As if he wiped away some of the smudge marks, leaving a crystal clear glass behind. She was transparent. Luminous. And he smashed her into a million pieces.
She could only think of one thing. He never said it. Not out loud. Not to her. And she was grateful for one thing.
She had never said it either.
He knows he never said it. Not out loud. Not to her. Not even to himself.
And the whole thing is hard for two reasons. One. He's not sure he felt it. Normally that was never a problem. He could say whatever he needed to whenever he needed to. He was an actor. It's what he did.
But then comes number Two. He had to be honest with her. He was never completely honest with anybody. But he was with her. He didn't even know why. Sure they had a connection. And maybe that's why he couldn't lie to her. Couldn't tell her those three magic words that all girls read about in fairy tales when they are young. So he stayed silent.
Looking back on their relationship, he's pretty proud of himself. He wasn't always the best boyfriend, but he did actually put forth effort. He knew she wasn't easy when they got together. He wasn't easy either. It's what made them kind of fit.
He almost had an epiphany once. A moment where he thought he had figured it all out.
He had a fever and was stuck in bed. She was there of course, bringing him water, tissues, trying to tell him jokes. He told her not to get too close because she had a big shoot the next day and he didn't want to risk her getting sick as well. She knelt next to him, using her cool hand to gently touch his warm forehead. He looked deep into her chocolate brown eyes and started to protest that she was going to get sick, but she just shushed him. Pulling back the covers, she climbed in next to him, wrapping one arm over his torso, as they slowly fell asleep.
When he woke up, his fever had broken and she was still there, next to him. And then something happened. Something that felt like a sugar rush and that feeling your stomach gets when you speed too quickly over a steep hill, all mixed up together. She stirred next to him. And just as soon as it started, it was over. Removing her arm from around his middle, he rolled over and went back to sleep.
Was that it? Was that supposed to be love? Was it this fleeting moment where everything is perfect? And then you realize that moment is gone. So what is left? The pristine shell of a relationship. Outside is still radiating a soft light. Inside is completely empty.
It needed to happen. The ending. So it did.
It's only weeks later, after he's been beating himself up about the whole situation, that he realizes what she knew all along. True, he never said it. But neither did she.
It takes two to make a thing go right, the song says.
And two to let it go completely wrong.
But the story doesn't end there.
Her first post-relationship date is actually pretty normal. Nice guy. Buys her flowers, wears a tie. It's all very standard. And she doesn't have to think about what he's thinking, because, frankly, she doesn't really care that much. She's not sure if this means she's not over him. Or if it means her senses have become a bit dull. Either way, she's impressed she made it on this date at all. For someone smashed into a million pieces, she's actually pretty well put together.
Her date opens the car door for her when they arrive at her building. He holds out his hand and helps her out of the car, but then doesn't let go as they walk towards her door. He has a big hand, and it's kind of sweaty, and she just knows, deep down, it's all wrong. They arrive at her stoop and she frees her hand, says goodnight, and disappears through the door.
His first post-relationship date changes his life. And he's not sure how it started. Only he is. He arrives a few minutes late, picks her up in his fancy car, takes her to a fancy restaurant, considers making her a part of his fancy life.
It's the star treatment and he's really turning on the charm. And she seems willing. He takes her back to his apartment. The one that theyshared, only not anymore. And her lips are moving over his cheekbone and onto his neck and he's trying to get into it. He really is. But something is wrong. She's a bit too perky. And won't ever call him on his crap. And probably wouldn't climb into bed with him when he was sick.
But she's here. And she's willing.
And then he knows. An inner voice is shouting in his ears. It's the sound of maturity and it is deafening. He pulls away and she looks at him, confused.
He tries to say something, but his eyes betray him and she grabs her purse and leaves.
Silence always was his strong suit.
But maybe not any more.
Sometimes she watches reruns of her first show on late night TV. Things were much simpler then. They were younger. It was innocent. Life was, was . . .
She opens the door on the third knock and can't hide her surprise at seeing him there. It's two o'clock in the morning and it's raining outside and he's standing outside her apartment door.
She lets him in.
"You never said it," is all he says.
She'd like to pretend that she doesn't know what "it" is, but that would be a lie, and honestly, they are way past lying to each other.
"Neither did you," she says, shutting the door behind him.
"Why did it matter whether or not I said it? You could of said it."
"Why would I of done that?"
"Why were you waiting for me?" he asked.
She doesn't answer that and he smiles triumphantly.
"You weren't sure either," he says finally.
"I thought I was," she says quietly. "But then you left. Or, I guess more accurately, I left. And now I don't know."
He stares at her for a moment.
"You don't know?"
She stares back.
"You don't know?" he repeats again.
"Come off it. You don't know either."
"I love you," he says simply.
"What?"
"I love you. I didn't know for sure until tonight. But I do now. It's so simple really. I don't even know what was holding me back in the first place. Fear? Uncertainty about the future? I don't know. I just know this. More than I've known anything else in my life. I love you."
"Would you stop saying that for two seconds? You don't love me. If you did you wouldn't of broken things off in the first place."
"Do you love me?"
"What?"
"Do you love me? It's not a hard question. Although honestly, I don't know how I would've answered it a month ago."
She narrows her eyes and looks at him. Really looks at him. Sandy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, small freckle beneath his left eyebrow. The boy she's known since she was fifteen. The boy who knows her better than anyone. The first boy she'd ever made out with. The first boy she'd ever fought with. The first boy she'd ever moved in with. The first boy who ever completely destroyed her. The first boy she'd ever felt with . . .
"That's not fair for you to ask me that. I never asked you for that. I never told you to love me," she says finally.
He takes a step towards her and says, "Did you? Did you really?"
"Stop it."
He takes another step towards her and cups his hand behind her head.
"Fine," he says.
"Fine," she whispers back, her eyes fluttering closed.
"Good."
"Good."
He leans in so close that she can feel his breath on her lips.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you, too," she replies, right before he kisses her.
The alarm chirps and a lazy arm reaches over to hit the off button.
"Not yet," she whispers, as he moves to get out of bed and turns on the light. She pulls his arm and snuggles up against his side.
She buries her head in the crook of his neck as he tangles his legs with hers.
After a few minutes, she groggily opens her eyes to find him watching her.
"How about not at all today?" he asks.
She smiles and leans over to shut the light back off.
"Perfect."
A/N: An end. Thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts. Love.