What was I doing? Why was I chasing him? This was crazy. I'd just ran into him again; it was an unpleasant exchange after a break up. But it was supposed to end there. That was the end of the story. I'd seen Adrian Ivashkov again, but he'd left and I'd gone back to life as planned. That was supposed to be where our story stopped. But now, against all odds, I was racing after him, the wind brushing my hair and my heart thumping with rage. How dare he? How dare he just walk right back into my life and pretend like every thing was okay? How dare he call me his and look at me and say my name? How dare he try to make me feel bad? How dare he play with me? He had no right!
In the old days I would have touched his arm, brought him closer to me and reprimanded him. Now I just stood a few feet away from him and called, "Adrian!" His back turned stiff and he slowly looked at me from over his shoulder. I reveled in the surprise on his face for a moment, proud to be one of the few people who could put such a transparent expression of surprise on his face. The surprise was gone just as soon as it had appeared. He looked at me through some what weary eyes, scanning my face for something. "What do you want?" He asked shortly, turning fully to face me now and crossing his arms. The coldness in his voice was enough to spur me on. I stormed up to him, wanting to kick him, throw fire at him, do something. Instead I kept my face as calm as I could, though I was sure my eyes were giving away how angry and confused I really was.
"What do you want?" I repeated, pointing a finger at him. I was sure the gesture made me look like a five year old but at this point I wasn't sure I cared. He didn't answer me, and I hadn't really expected him to. He just looked at me with the same tired expression. I stood up straighter, determined to get my point across even if I wasn't quite sure what the point was. "Or better yet: who do you think you are?" This seemed to strike a chord with him because his eyes glinted with anger, all regard for hiding his emotions apparently gone.
"Who do I think I am?" He said slowly. "I'll tell you who I am. I'm the guy who waited a year for you to call, to text, to email, to write, do anything. I waited a year for you to explain why you ended it! I'm the guy who treated you the best I could when we were together, even though I had plenty of problems. I'm the guy who waited patiently for you to get over your Alchemist shit for months before we were even together!" He was nearly yelling now, his voice raising and his eyes narrowing. "I'm the guy who's heart you broke. You should know who the hell I am, Sydney. The question is, who do you think you are?"
The question left me aghast. I glared at him. "Gee, Adrian, you thought you knew me so well. Why don't you tell me?" I said sarcastically. I was surprised when he took a step closer to me, close enough that I could smell him; the scent of pine and cologne and something that was just his. It was a scent I had once reveled in, a scent I had once breathed in before kissing him or when we were falling asleep together. And now it was the scent that haunted my dreams. I still couldn't believe any of this was happening right now. We were over and now he was back in my life, so suddenly that it was like he was a hurricane that had just swept through my life once again, threatening to destroy the foundation I had built in the past year.
"I do know you well," He said, putting an extra emphasis on the word know. "You're a scared little girl and you ran away from me because our love didn't fit into your neat, pretty boxes any more." I had thought I was done surprising myself now, but I did something even more surprising then. I leaned forward, shifted my weight, and slapped him across the face. He looked stunned to say the least. I had never slapped him.
"You have no clue what my reasoning behind leaving is and don't pretend you do!" Now I was yelling, not caring that we were in a public place. How did all my inhibitions go flying out of the window when he was around? I lowered my voice, taking in a deep breath and looking him in the eyes. "I left for my own reasons, and they were good ones. If you knew what the were I can guarantee you wouldn't be standing here, telling me how well you know me and how scared I am."
Adrian touched the now red place on his cheek where I'd slapped him, almost looking amazed and awed by me slapping him. What was wrong with him? Why was he looking at me like he had that night we'd made A.Y.E t-shirts? Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he arguing any more? It was so much easier to be mad at him when he was biting my head off, going into detail about how much pain I had caused him and how much he missed me. That's what I expected him to do. Then again, as this whole morning had shown, Adrian was a highly astonishing person.
After just looking at me and touching his cheek for a little while, he finally said, "I might be a bit more sympathetic if you actually told me your reasons. I could respect Rose when she left. She told me her reasons; she was up front. And she had a good reason. But I never loved her the way I loved you. And she never seemed as happy with me as you did. And she never inspired me like you did. And you left out of no where, giving me no real reason. What was I supposed to think? That you'd just left because you had to?" I wanted to say yes, that was the exact reason why I left. I was black mailed. I didn't want to leave. It wasn't easy for me. But it was necessary, for both of our well beings. But instead I just looked up at his pleading green eyes, saying nothing.
"I did leave because I had to. And you need to trust me when I say it wasn't an easy thing for me to do. You need to believe me when I say that I did love you. But we have to be over; it's for the best." The words echoed in my head. It's for the best. It's for the best. It's for the best. I repeated that sentence in my head like a mantra. It was for the best. Even if it hurt now, the pain would subside someday and he would move on and I would move on and our love would just be a tiny spot way back in the sunset. Every thing would be fine without him. It was for the best. Or at least that's what I told myself.
He looked down at me for a long time, biting his lip and begging with his eyes. His hand twitched at his side, as though it was longing to reach out and brush away my hair or touch my cheek. He seemed to think better of doing so though because he shoved his hands into his pockets. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or saddened. "Do you really believe that, Sage?" He finally murmured.
Did I? No, I didn't. But I wouldn't tell him that. He had to move on. He had to find some one else. He deserved some one ten times better than me. He deserved some one more strong, more courageous than me. Some one who would be willing to choose love over job. I was selfish. I didn't- and probably never would- deserve him. "Yeah, I do." I whispered, my voice sounding lame even to myself. But he didn't question me, didn't say I was lying. I could see in his face that he wanted to. And maybe he wanted to do even more than that. Maybe he even wanted to kiss me and whisper that he still loved me and beg for me back. Or maybe that was just what I wanted him to do.
He nodded slowly after a few moments. "I hope you're happy with your decision then." He finally said. He was trying to look strong, that much I could tell. But inside he was crumbling. I could see it in his eyes. I was crumbling at the same time. The second good bye was even worse than the first. Was there ever a right time to give up, to say good bye? I didn't think there was. But I'd never really say good bye. He'd always be with me, always making me wonder what would have happened had I stayed. Would we get married? Have kids? Would we settle down and go into hiding, try to become a normal couple? I wasn't sure, but these questions all burned in the back of my brain. Tears were in my eyes all of the sudden, and I pushed them back. I didn't reply to his statement but I said now what I had always been afraid to say the last time.
"I'll love you forever, Adrian Ivashkov."
He looked at me, startled by my sentiment. "Ditto, Sydney Sage." He said quietly. I had been expecting him to say that I should stay then, that we should run off right now. That things could go back to the way they were. But they couldn't, could they? We were already too far gone, weren't we? Before I could say anything else, he had turned back around and was walking towards his car, the one I had named the Ivaskinator, and climbing in. He never looked back.
At least it was over, right? The hard part was done. We were ending. And it hurt, but the pain would subside. I never had to see Adrian again. At least I hoped.