Disclaimer: I don't own GLEE. Oh well.
Summary: Making up your mind is never easy, especially with your heart as a constant foe. Ken/Emma
A/N: This is inspire by the 50 word challenge going around. As always, read, review, and enjoy!
He unloosened his tie as he sat on the bed, giving his neck some much needed comfort while he stared at his reflection in his floor length mirror. He imagined how she might have looked at the alter, waiting to become his bride, waiting for their first kiss. He knew it would never be real, her softness pressed to his body, not even in his dreams. He rubbed his hands together, kneading the pain that surged through his entire body. He felt invalid, heavy like a sack of potatoes as he sat on the edge, wondering his next move. He prayed it would rain, so that he could hear the gentle sound, one he refused to admit he enjoyed with anyone else, not even Emma.
She might have been closed to him, never letting him in, but so was he. He opened his nightstand drawer, pulling out a chocolate protein bar, hoping it would calm his nerves. As he chewed, the happiness that he felt when he woke that morning had finally dwindled away, not even the treat could perk him up. He took a final breathe before he picked up the telephone, hearing Emma's phone on the other end. Before long, she answered, seemingly worrisome. "Hey, where are you?"
Ken took a deep breath, his ears inflamed on the other end of the receiver. "I'm not coming."
There was a sharp intake of breath before her timid voice came over the phone. "Ken..."
"I'm sorry, Emma." He rarely said her name, but he knew his nickname would suffice. Without more to say, he hung up, the pain returning.
He stood up again, walking over to the mirror and looked himself over, thinking he looked pretty sensual with his lips, something he had been trying to imitate for weeks. But he didn't find any of it helpful, the death of a relationship upon him. He wanted to feel more loss than he had, but he never had sex, held her or even kissed her. What had he had with her? A few moments in the faculty lounge when she cold tolerate sitting near me. Not even a casual touch was permitted. It was system of boundaries, one he couldn't indulge one of his many weaknesses, contact. He was hands on, but not even he could wipe her tears away, comfort her the way he wanted to.
He thought that the speed of everything, the engagement, the wedding, that it might have freaked her out, but he knew better. He needed to get her away from Schuster, with him swooping in like a fart in the wind, ruining any moments they might have had. But now he had his freedom. He didn't have to wear plastic gloves or be fearful of any germs taking her or his life, at least it seemed worth it. He could picture her running into Schuster's arms, the jealously driving him up the walls, but it was part of their relationship as much as the disinfectants.
His hands felt cold again, the draft from the open window blowing in. He could taste the dryness in the air, making his stomach hurt even more. It was her favorite type of weather, with it clean smell in the air, the sun drying all the wetness and making it all calm for a moment. He startled himself with the knowledge he had absorbed over the months they had been together, only proving his devotion to her. He wasn't sure if he would ever stop loving her, maybe forever, but he knew he had to try to get over it. As long as there was blood pumping in his veins, he still had chances to start again.
Her sickness might have been what blocked them in the beginning, but he knew it wasn't what kept her away. She loved Will the way he had always wanted to be. He had been close to him for a while, especially when Acafellas was alive and well, and it was easy to see the appeal, the way he could carry a melody even made him blush. But he had worked so much courage to ask Emma out all those months ago, and he snatched that away, like the star position in the group, like everyone's love, like Emma. Blaming him for everything that went wrong was as easy as going home, putting it on someone else's shoulders, the guilt felt better there.
The confusion didn't get bad until he left his wife. Emma seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at him more, as if she could pull karma points from whomever to get what she really wanted. He found out during one of Sue's rants during a Cheerios practice, talking to one of the coaches. He felt the need to confront him, but fear keep him back, not for himself, but if Emma caught wind of it, he knew it wouldn't end pretty. And like a lightning bolt, the realization set in. He had to leave her, unsure his reaction if she left him. The bonds he tied to his heart over her were so strong he didn't know their extents.
He fiddled with his tie again, smirking at the notion he was on the market again, free to do whatever her wanted again. But did it matter? He could peruse through dating sites, social networking or whatever dating technology they had to offer, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. As much as he felt uncomfortable, the moments he had with her were a gift. Even the occasional smile she would offer was better than nothing at all. He hated all the feelings he held for this woman, making him sentimental and soft. He felt the need to do jumping jacks or lift weights until his arms fell off, but even the innocence of that act seemed tainted. He settled by doing a few sit-ups, staggering his breathing until its completion. Once he finished, his eyes seemed clouded over, a mist he couldn't shake. He wiped them away, not sure what made him get so emotional, realizing they were tears. He never cried if he could help it, knowing what ideas came to mind when a man of his stature let his emotions get away with him. He walked over to the window to get some air, looking at the sky with its cloudless vastness, almost clear enough to see the heavens that Emma used to talk about so often. A perfect day. Dammit.
He imagined this was hell on Earth, the knowing of great joys but never having them. That even the sun could bring you pain with it in your eyes and not on your face. He longed for the moon to hurry up and come so he could have an excuse to drink and go to sleep. Waves of wanting and anger come in close recession, but he halted them again, thinking of her hair and her smile and hoping whatever she ended up doing, she could be happy. He wanted to be that guy that could be happy for the person that broke his heart. He wanted to be that strong, even with all the weights her lifted and protein shakes he cooked up, that would never be an easy feat. But unlike the supernovas he use to read about in school, how the dead stars would collapse onto themselves, he knew that his story wasn't finished being written, and there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He just couldn't see it yet.
Hope you liked it. Thanks for reading! --MrsBigTuna