"What do you mean, you're leaving?"
"Exactly that." She sounded tired. She wouldn't look at him as she tossed her clothes in a bag, but her mouth was pinched, as though she fought to hold in words that were trying to force themselves out. And he wondered – was she trying not to hurt him more than necessary, or did she just not care enough anymore to tell him what was wrong?
"You can't leave. You can't just –" he motioned vaguely, at a loss for words, "– leave."
Her mouth softened a little, a trace of sadness lingering in the corners with a slight tremble. Her eyes were dark with pain, quiet and resigned.
"I've been leaving for a while, now," she said softly. "A bit at a time, as you spent more and more time working and less and less time with me. You just…never noticed." She slid her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes briefly. Her lips twisted wryly in remembrance. "Even when you were here you weren't here. You weren't involved, not really. It's okay. You don't need me around. I understand. It'll be easier this way – I won't be making any demands on your time."
He realized that she wasn't angry – maybe she'd moved past anger already, or maybe she was never angry in the first place. She was just talking, without bitterness, without spite, without emotion at all.
"Honey…"
She held up a hand, stopping him before he could speak. "I don't want to fight," she said. "I just want…I just want it to be over. Quick and painless, okay?"
He wanted to ask how she expected it to be painless when she was ripping his heart out of his chest. But he bit his tongue. She didn't want to hear it.
--
He stared at the small, silver key on the coffee table. It meant finality – she'd left her key behind, she really wasn't coming back. She'd cut the ties binding them as easily as a knife slides through butter, and now he wished he'd done more to bind her to him, worked harder to keep her happy. Told her he loved her more often. Spent more time with her.
And the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right – she had tried to draw him out more often, tried to get him to stay home more often, to spend time with her, and he'd continually brushed her off. He'd shoved her aside for the sake of his business. He enjoyed the faction work, it was satisfying and successful, and he was making a sizeable income. But when he thought about it, a lot of the things he'd insisted he had to oversee personally could have been done just as well by employees.
And now that he'd allowed his career to drive away his girlfriend, he was discovering that it wasn't work he loved so much as the sense of accomplishment he always felt when he finally packed it in for the day and found his loving girlfriend waiting for him. He'd had a great life, and he'd neglected the most important part of it.
And now that part was gone. And Djose was so empty without her. All that was left of her was a few loose ribbons she'd forgotten in a side table drawer, and the scent of her hair on his pillow. And even that would fade in time.
--
"So you wanna tell me why you asked me here?" Rikku took a sip of her water, finally working up the nerve to ask what she'd been wondering for the last twenty minutes or so.
Nooj sighed. "Gippal's been spending a lot of time in bars, lately."
Rikku slanted Nooj a concerned look from across the table, but managed to school her features into a nonchalant expression quickly enough. "It's no business of mine."
"Of course it is," Nooj replied. "Since you left, he's not himself. He spends his nights getting drunk – he's even gotten himself cut off a few times. Two nights ago, he called me to pick him up because the bartender took his hover keys. Without you there, he's spiraling out of control. The man needs you."
"He doesn't." She frowned down into her soup. "He never did. Oh, sure, he was interested in having a girlfriend. But not investing anything of himself in a real relationship. I think he expected me to sit on a shelf and look pretty – like a doll – until he was ready to play with me again. He needed his job. He needed his friends. But he never needed me."
"That's not true," Nooj argued. "I think he was…secure. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in your relationship, it was that he was so sure of you that he let his security blind him to the fact that you had needs, as well. I'm not going to argue that Gippal was the best significant other in the world," Nooj said, "because he wasn't. But he did love you, Rikku. It's been almost four months, and he's still not over you."
She wasn't over him, yet, either. He had been such a big part of her life – a childhood friend and later a lover – that cutting him out of it completely was a much harder task than she had thought it would be. But he was just so absorbed in his work that he hadn't time for anything else, and Rikku's pride wouldn't let her remain in a relationship where she was ignored.
"I can't let his problems become mine," she said regretfully. "I'm sorry that he's taking solace in alcohol, but it's just time to face the facts – it's over between Gippal and I. It's been over for a while."
"You were good for him, Rikku." Nooj looked disappointed – maybe he'd expected a different result. "I was hoping…"
Rikku shook her head firmly. "He'll get over it," she said resolutely. "Just…hope that he gets better before he gets worse." Still she hesitated, chewing her lower lip. "I'm not going back to him, but if…if he needs help, I'll be there. I still…care about him. I don't want him to get hurt."
Nooj nodded slowly, his lips compressed into a firm line. Though he said nothing, she could read in his face that he didn't share her conviction that Gippal would recover from her defection.
With nothing more to say between them, Rikku reached for the pouch at her waist, and pulled out enough gil to cover her tab. "I've gotta get back," she said. "But you know where to find me."
--
The call came in the middle of the night a couple of weeks later.
"He's in Kilika," Nooj said over the commsphere. "I'm in Luca – it'll be at least an hour before I can catch a ferry. You're closer. You mind?" He named the place.
"I'll get him," she sighed, pulling on a coat. "It's just a couple blocks away. What's he doing over here, anyway?"
"Kilika has the most relaxed liquor laws," Nooj responded. "Djose is relatively uptight – since it was originally a temple. Luca has plenty of bars, but they only serve beer and wine. He's progressed from moderate to heavy drinking."
Rikku sighed her disgust – it wasn't that she disliked alcohol, but Gippal was drinking for all the wrong reasons and he just wouldn't learn that he couldn't find what he was looking for at the bottom of a bottle. "All right, I'll go get him and take him home," she said. "No worries."
It was a relatively short walk to the bar – Kilika was a busy city even at night, and her apartment was right in the heart of the coastal town. Still, the seasons were quickly changing, and even in a relatively tropical climate like Kilika's, the autumn air brought in a chill at night. She shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them warm.
The bar was relatively upscale but nearly deserted as it was so close to closing time. Gippal was hunched over the bar, his head on his arms.
"You here for him?" the bartender asked, nodding towards the end of the bar. Gippal was unresponsive – probably asleep.
She nodded. "Sorry. I'll get him out of here."
"Good. He's a total buzz kill – had people complaining about him bringing the place down all night. Alcohol's a depressant, y'know. He's drinking when he's down, and it's just making him damn depressing to be around." He shook his head. "Poor kid."
Her lips twisted wryly. No one had called Gippal a kid in recent memory, but with his face relaxed and his lower lip thrust out in a vaguely petulant manner, it was fitting.
"Gippal," she said. "It's time to go."
He blinked blearily, surprised to hear her voice.
For a few moments he stared at her as if he didn't quite understand. His green gaze was nothing but…blank. Emotionless.
"Rikku?" He asked finally, hesitantly.
"Yeah." She removed one hand from her pocket and held it towards him. "Come on," she said. "I'll take you home."
His eyebrows drew together. "I called Nooj."
"Nooj called me." She shrugged. "He's too far away to have made it in time to get you. So come on already. It's late, and I'm tired."
Docilely, he took her hand, allowing her to take him out of the bar. She lead him through the winding walkways towards the docks.
"You've got to be more responsible," she chided. "Nooj is really worried about you. This…this business of hanging around bars and drinking until you can't stand up…it isn't like you, Gippal."
He said nothing, but his hold on her fingers tightened just a fraction. He stumbled a little over a loose board, too inebriated to right himself alone. She caught him, supporting him while he steadied himself.
"Thanks." His head dropped onto her shoulder briefly, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo. His arms had been around her a fraction too long, and she wiggled out of them.
"Don't get any ideas," she said harshly. "I'm just making sure you don't get into more trouble on your way home."
Too drained to argue, Gippal let her escort him onto the waiting ferry. She fished his wallet out of his pocket, paying the attendant from his gil rather than her own.
He spent most of the short trip hung over the side of the ferry, expelling the copious amount of liquor he'd ingested. Of course Rikku had no sympathy for him, as he'd made the choice to drink it in the first place.
When the ship finally docked, Gippal was ready to give thanks to an end to his misery – though he'd never really gotten seasick before, being drunk on a boat was not pleasant and he'd been on the verge of praying for death to spare him any further agony when Rikku had nudged him with the toe of her boot and said it was time to go.
He stumbled off the boat, trailing slowly after Rikku as they walked up the sandy beach towards the highroad. Gippal sighed with relief as the stink of the salty sea air gradually faded to the earthy scent of good, fresh dirt.
Rikku remained silent – she felt obligated to make sure he got home okay because of their past romance, but she didn't like being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to babysit him, especially when he'd been acting so phenomenally stupid.
They made it to Djose, and Rikku held out her hand expectantly. "Keys," she said.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Left 'em at the bar I think." He slurred just a little – maybe the effects of the alcohol were wearing off somewhat.
"Damn." Rikku jerked a pin out of her hair, irritated at having to pick a lock so late at night. At least he didn't point out that if she'd kept her key, she wouldn't have to break in.
The door swung open and she tucked the pin back into her hair. He started up the stairs and she followed – if only to make sure he didn't break his neck. She waited in the bedroom as he fumbled noisily around in the bathroom, performing his nightly ablutions.
"I'll get you a glass of water and give you a little privacy while you get ready for bed," she said when he emerged.
He flopped back on the bed, bouncing a little. "Why bother? It's not like you've never seen me naked before."
She gritted her teeth. "Maybe I just don't want to see you naked now," she responded in a clipped tone, stomping down the stairs to the kitchen. Nothing had changed since she'd left – Djose looked exactly the same, only her herbal teas no longer littered the kitchen counter and all her assorted knick knacks were gone. He hadn't rearranged or redecorated in any way.
She got a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, then headed back upstairs, pleased to find Gippal undressed and tucked safely beneath the covers when she returned.
She set the glass down on the nightstand. "Don't make anyone worry about you anymore, okay?" She admonished. "Find a better pastime. Get a hobby. Hell, get a girlfriend. It's about time you –" She let out a small cry as his hand shot out to capture her wrist, jerking her down. Off balance, she stumbled, tripping right onto the bed, bracing herself on her arms to avoid falling directly on top of him.
But he snaked one arm around her waist, hugging her closer. His free hand dived into her hair, pressing her head against his bare chest. "Don't say that," he said. "You know I don't want anyone else."
Something in her heart wrenched to hear him say that so fervently. But even as her eyes watered, she shoved away from him, desperate to put a little space between them. It was too little, too late.
"Just…just don't make me clean up your messes anymore. I can't spend my nights tracking down my ex-boyfriend." She shoved her hands into her pockets so he wouldn't notice how they trembled.
"I'll change. I won't work so much. I'll never set foot in another bar. Please." He pressed one hand to his forehead, smoothing the frown that creased his brow. "Please come home."
She'd managed to stop thinking of Djose as home a long time ago. Zipping up her coat, she sighed heavily.
"People don't change, Gippal," she said. "Not really. And…you've made so many promises before. Fool me twice, shame on me, you know? I just…I can't go through it again. I'm sorry." She stopped briefly in the doorway, the faint light from the hallway silhouetting her. "Goodbye."
--
Rikku rubbed her temples, sighing her frustration. Obviously, Nooj had given Gippal her address. She'd returned to find her apartment filled to overflowing with vases of flowers, which her landlady had so nicely dropped off for her. And the vibrant array of flowers – while perfectly lovely – were giving her a nasty case of hay fever. She tossed them out in bucketfuls, sneezing violently.
She'd rejected Gippal's request for a date twice already that week – once, he'd ambushed her in the market with a box of her favorite chocolates, and the second time he'd somehow obtained her commsphere code (likely Nooj's doing again) and called her at home.
Somehow she'd forgotten how determined Gippal could be when he wanted something and, while it was somewhat flattering that he was pursuing her even months after they'd broken up, she was somewhat resentful that he hadn't made so much of an effort when they'd been dating. Was he only figuring out just now what a good thing he'd lost?
And all the flowers and candy in Spira wouldn't convince her that he'd changed, that in a few months he wouldn't revert to habit and leave her waiting up at night for him to finally come in. And it was a shame, because down deep she still loved him, and it hurt her to reject him every time he came calling. But she'd just been so tired of feeling abandoned…and she'd had to cut her losses.
She just wished he'd stay in Djose and leave her in peace so that she could finally get over him and move on with her life.
--
For Gippal, the night that Nooj had sent Rikku to retrieve him had been a turning point of sorts. As soon as Rikku had shown up, he'd felt ashamed. He hadn't wanted her to see him like that – miserably drunk and pathetically depressed.
And all the things she'd told him, while painful, had been truthful. He was making other people responsible for him to avoid taking responsibility for his own actions and personal failings. And while he'd promised to change, he'd done nothing to prove he would or could.
For the first time Gippal realized that just saying he would change wouldn't get him anywhere. Talk was cheap. He'd have to prove to her that she came first – which would be damned difficult if she wouldn't come near him. And even if he managed to prove himself to her, she still might not take him back – after all, they'd been broken up for nearly six months, now. That was plenty of time for her to fall in love with someone else.
Just the thought made him sick. Yes, he'd been a workaholic…but it didn't mean he didn't love her. He'd wanted to be successful, to be someone she could be proud of. To be someone her father would approve of, to give her all the things she deserved.
And, just like that, her voice popped into his head, chastising him for his idiocy.
"I never cared about things! I just wanted you!"
His head dropped into his hands as he sighed miserably. Why hadn't he realized that all those months ago? Why hadn't he realized that it didn't take money or material things to keep Rikku happy – all it took was time. And beyond that, she'd never cared whether or not her father approved of him. All that had mattered was that she loved him.
And it was only now that it was gone that he realized what a precious commodity that love had been.
--
Of course, he didn't stay in Djose – in fact, rumor got around that he'd been staying in Kilika lately. She wondered how he justified it, leaving Djose in the hands of his subordinates. At the same time, he seemed to have gotten the message that she couldn't be persuaded with flowers or cajoled into seeing him with candy or even coerced by his friends into giving him a second chance.
Still, she couldn't help but being a little anxious when a letter arrived one day from him – with a Kilika return address. She unfolded the sheets of paper within, holding her breath as his untidy scrawl was revealed on the top sheet.
Dear Rikku,
I realized a while ago that you were right all along. I was so comfortable with the way things were that I couldn't see that you weren't happy. I hope that someday you can forgive me for making you feel like you were second best. Even if I didn't treat you like it, you were always the most important part of my life.
Even if it's too late for us, I want you to know that I'll never let Djose take me over again. I let it take something precious from me, so now I'm letting it go.
I'm sorry.
Gippal
The next sheet of paper was a formal, typed letter of resignation – Gippal had recommended his best employee to take his place as faction leader and said he would be vacating Djose temple in a couple of weeks.
Shocked, Rikku dropped down on her couch as the breath shuddered out of her lungs. What was he thinking, giving up Djose? She flipped over the torn envelope to find the return address. She knew the street – it was all the way across town. Confused and worried, she left her apartment, forgetting her jacket in her haste. But still she ran, hurrying down to the river to catch a small passenger boat that would carry her up towards the section of town in which Gippal resided.
The rower wasn't propelling the boat forward with nearly the speed that Rikku would have liked. She sat there, jittery, with her heart caught in her throat and her stomach twisting uneasily, clutching his letter in her hand, hoping she would arrive in time to save him from making a colossal mistake. Hoping he hadn't yet officially resigned. Hoping he was even home.
She tripped off the dock, sprinting along the busy streets, muscles burning as she pushed herself as fast as she could go. The apartment building came into view – she took the stairs two at a time until she reached his floor. She stopped outside his door, pounding on it furiously, panting heavily.
There was no sound within, but she kept pounding frantically for several minutes until – finally – the door opened and he emerged, wearing only a pair of pants and clutching a towel. His hair was damp and a couple of droplets of water slid down his chest; he'd come directly from the shower.
His face showed his surprise at finding her there. "Rikku? What –"
Rikku cut him off, cheeks a vivid pink from exertion and anger. "What's the meaning of this?" She waved the crumpled papers before his face. "What do you mean, you're resigning?"
His gaze slid away from her face, to somewhere over her shoulder. He wrung the towel a little with his hands, a telling gesture. "Just that. I'm getting out of Djose. Relocating to Kilika."
Her knees buckled – she didn't know if it was from shock or sore muscles. Grabbing desperately at the doorframe, she managed to gasp out: "But you love Djose!"
He shoved his fingers through his wet hair, sighing. "Yeah," he said. "But…I love you more."
"It's for me?" She gaped at him, dumbfounded. "You're giving up Djose for me?"
"Yeah. See, I was hoping that maybe I'd move to Kilika, get a boring desk job, and maybe, in a couple of months, if you're still single –" he winced, as if the thought of her being involved with someone else was physically painful, "– I might find out if maybe you wanted to go on a date."
"But you'd hate having a desk job." She didn't know what possessed her to point out the obvious – but her knees were trembling and her throat felt raw and scratchy. She was a little afraid she might start crying.
"But I'd have you." He faltered. "Um, if you were interested, that is. At least you'd know for sure that I would never abandon you in favor of work."
The sob snuck up on her, escaping her lips before she could stop it – and then the tears came. He was willing to give up his job, his home – both of which he loved – on the off-chance that several months down the road she might consent to going on a date with him. He would take a job he hated to make her feel wanted, loved.
"Have you sent this in, yet?" she sniffled, holding up his letter of resignation.
"No. Off-island mail doesn't go out but twice a week." He shrugged. "Tomorrow's the earliest it can go out. I'll post it first thing in the morning."
"Don't." She swiped her fingers across her cheeks, wiping away the tear-tracks. "Don't send it in. Don't give up Djose."
"Rikku, if you're trying to say that there's no chance of us ever getting back together, you should know that I'm leaving Djose either way." He smiled sort of awkwardly, as if he were trying to assure her that if she didn't want him, he'd understand.
"Why?" She heard her voice break and didn't care. "Why would you do that?"
"I can't take living there without you anymore." He rubbed the back of his neck absently. "It's like the place is haunted. If there's no hope, I'd rather start all over in a place that isn't overrun with memories. Maybe Luca, if you'd rather not have me in Kilika." He cleared his throat. "Look, you don't have to stick around. I never thought you'd come here – I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry and I'm doing my best to change. Even if you don't want anything to do with me, I'm still changing."
She crumpled the papers in her hand, chucking the wadded-up ball at his head. "Don't leave Djose," she said. Because it had been their home, and she didn't want him to be miserable at a job he hated. She wanted him to be happy. Her heart hurt – he was forcing emotions to the surface that she'd thought she'd worked through a long time ago. She'd once told him that people didn't change, and she'd been convinced she was right. Only, he was proving her wrong.
And if he really did love her so much, then how could she reject him? Especially since she loved him, too – and she didn't want to quit. It hurt too much.
"Rikku…"
"You have to stay there." She twisted her fingers. "It's easy to be more important than a job you hate. If you leave Djose, how would I ever know whether or not I would really come first?"
Surprise arched his brows. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You want me to work in Djose to prove myself? Are you…does this mean…?"
She turned away, biting her lower lip. "I don't want you to give up something you love just because you think it'll make me happy."
His hands cupped her shoulders, warm and gentle. "It's just a building, just a stack of bricks. I like it, sure, but I don't need it. You're the important part." He sighed, feeling more at peace than he had in months. "Will you come home, then?"
She shrugged off his hands, pivoting with a glare. "No." Her hands curled into fist, frustrated. "Even if you're trying to be better, you still hurt me, Gippal – that doesn't go away just because you want it to, just because you change. I'm not moving back in with you on a whim, with the hopes that you can balance work and a girlfriend and keep all the promises you make."
"I'm sorry," he soothed. "That was thoughtless of me." He set his hands on her shoulders again, and although she watching him semi-suspiciously, she didn't throw off his hands or try to move away.
His thumb stroked the smooth skin of her shoulder. "Tell me what you want me to do," he said.
Her lips pursed, considering. "Go back to Djose," she said finally. "Go back to work. I'll be staying in Kilika, so if you want to go out, you'll have to make time to see me." She slipped from beneath his hands, heading towards the door. "If we're still seeing each other a couple of months down the road, we'll reevaluate."
He said nothing, but he knew that if she seriously intended to give him another chance, he sure as hell wasn't going to screw it up. "I'll call you at the end of the week, then."
"Okay." She paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "See you."
"Over the weekend," he replied. "If that's okay for you."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips - and he knew it was his job to bring her smile back to life. He was good at fixing things. He was confident he could repair their relationship, given time.
"That sounds fine," she said. She ducked her head, murmuring a farewell, and disappeared down the hallway.
This time he knew he wouldn't let their relationship die – he'd learned that some things were priceless, and time could never be regained. He'd let too many precious moments slip by already, and he'd long ago resolved never to do it again. He would not let this – his precious second chance – go to waste.
Briefly he thought about the small silver key she'd left behind, already imagining the day – not too long in coming, he hoped – when he would get to return it to her.
