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The whole relationship was based on a "push, push back" basis. It worked out fine for them. But now she's losing her touch. Her comments have lost the snide smile they once had. Her timing is too slow, and the stinging pain she feels after he speaks isn't normal.
He supposes it started after the phone call. The phone call that had her leave for a while, then come back, different. He didn't know what the phone call said or what she had been doing, but he caught a glimpse of a black and blue mark on her arm as she pulled a jacket over her short sleeved shirt. He couldn't bring himself to ask, and she never mentioned it. He keeps pushing. At first he was waiting for her response, hoping that eventually she'd get back into the familiar pattern, but now it's more habit than anything else. He doesn't expect a proper reply, as much as he wants one.
He notices how tired she seems. How worn out and exhausted she looks every day. And it doesn't seem to matter if she stayed up all night or got ten hours of sleep. There were always dark circles under her eyes. Always.
She moved so much slower than she used to. The cut on her cheek proved that. She never would have let that happen before. He hadn't been worried, but then she showed up hurt and he was surprised.
He can't stop pushing her. He supposes it's because if he doesn't, their relationship will die out. Without the normal dynamic, what's left to hold them together? She seems worse every time, but he can't stop. It happens before he realizes it, and then it's too late to apologize.
It all comes to a head one night, on the roof in the rain. He thinks it's just like every movie he's ever seen – except in the movies no one seems bothered by the cold, and the icy droplets that hurt as they pound your frozen skin. And everything is blurred, your clothes are wet and sticking to you, and there really isn't anything romantic about it.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, angrily, and he stares stupidly, unable to think of how to explain himself. Part of him wants to give her the whole speech. The big, dramatic one, that usually ends in a passionate kiss with the music swelling in the background. Wants to tell her that he will do anything to make her feel better – he just wants her back. The other part wants to make a snide comment and wait for her to reply. But this one time he manages to shut up and all he says is,
"It's too cold and wet up here. Let's go inside and get dry."
She hesitates, unsure now, of what is going to happen. She knows just what he was supposed to say – she even knows that if he gave a big speech she would probably fall for it. But he hasn't done either and she is thrown off her game. It doesn't take much to do that – not since…
Finally, they head in, and they stand on either side of the lockers and strip. He hands her a towel over the barrier between them, and she gets dry, changing into the extra clothes she has here – oversized sweats. When he asks her if she's done she considers telling him no, but doesn't. She can't make herself.
He has no shirt on. He wonders briefly if it's too intimate, but he has no shirt to wear, and he hopes she'll forgive it. He joins her on the cheap bench, saying nothing. The water dripping off her hair is the only sound in the whole room. Finally he manages,
"You know my number…don't you?"
"Yeah," she replies, "Speed dial 4."
"Use it."
They aren't completely fixed yet, but something tells him they will be. After all the other things they've been through, they can get through this thing too.
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