Started this one forever ago and finally finished it. In my opinion, it's the rewrite we all need.
Enjoy!
««« ×ǁ CAN OPENER CHRONICLES ǁ× »»»
Stepping off the elevator, he's still in a daze – his mind racing with thoughts as the memories continue to plague him.
Digging through his pockets, he retrieves his keys as he arrives at his front door. Even as he turns the key into the lock, he has to fight the urge to turn back around and go after her. He can still hear the sound of her heels clicking against the floors echoing in his skull – his chest tightening as he recalls listening to her footsteps as they moved further and further away.
It's only been half an hour, but the compulsion to show up at her door hasn't lessened one bit. The drive home was torturous, spending the entirety of the trip struggling not to get the cabby's attention and give him a different address.
By the time he actually stepped out onto the sidewalk, he looked like a disheveled mess with the twenty minutes he spent fidgeting with his tie and running his fingers through his hair.
He thought he just needed some time, some space – a moment to breathe. He thought that he'd come to his senses and remember that the two of them just can't happen – he's not supposed to have more of her than he already does.
But, the more time that goes by, the more jumbled all of his reasons for keeping his distance become.
All he can do is think about her soft lips pressing against his, her gentle fingers grazing the nape of his neck, her perfect breasts pushed right up against him, and the smell of her perfume intoxicating his senses in ways he hasn't allowed since the other time.
He can't stop thinking about it – about her.
This vibrant and classy and brilliant woman who is somehow even more beautiful on the inside than she is on the outside, who knows him better than anyone else ever could, who has always steered him in the right direction, and who has never once shied away from his flaws.
She's thoughtful and compassionate; she's feisty and vivacious; and she is someone whose company he will never get sick of.
She's his confidant, his sounding board, his partner in crime.
She means more to him than he could ever explain, and it's not as if it's a new realization, but the gravity of it all is hitting him hard.
As he unlocks his door and pushes it open, his mind is still swimming with thoughts. He's more than halfway to convincing himself to change his clothes and head right on over to her place, when that polite and friendly greeting hits his ears and it all comes crashing down.
"Paula," he responds, trying his best to hide the surprise he feels at her presence.
In the whirlwind that has been the last hour of his day, he had completely forgotten about her – she hadn't crossed his mind even once. It's why just the sight of her standing in his condo causes a pit of guilt and shame to grow in his stomach.
She's giving him a strange look, eyeing him up and down and clearly trying to decipher whatever is going on in his head – it's something he's quite used to experiencing from Donna, but being on the other end of Paula's examination is not nearly as welcome.
It comes to him quickly, the realization.
Just a few seconds under her scrutinizing gaze and it's clear.
He knows exactly what he has to do.
(→→ ←←)
Listening as his front door closes, he falls back a few steps and collapses on his couch, rubbing his temples to ease the growing headache. His mind is an absolute disaster right now – he's confused as hell and completely ridden with guilt.
Witnessing the hurt in Paula's eyes was not something he ever wanted. He genuinely cared for her and he hates the fact that he's the cause of her pain.
Even still, he knows he did the right thing, feeling confident with his decision.
Given the feelings bursting inside him and the thoughts swirling around his head, it was clear that continuing that relationship was no longer an option.
It wouldn't be fair to her – it wouldn't be fair to either of them.
Yes, it was the right thing to do, regardless of how terrified it makes him.
The thing is, now that there is one less obstacle in his way, it's becoming increasingly difficult to talk himself out of what he really wants to do.
He almost makes the decision four different times before he pushes himself off the couch and wanders into his bedroom, still attempting to work everything out in his head.
As he changes out of his suit, he replays those few moments over and over again, trying to decode her actions.
After all these years, he thought their lines were clear, but then she goes and blows up his whole life with a single kiss.
He just doesn't understand. Why did she do it?
What does it mean?
Why did she walk away?
The whole thing leaves him utterly perplexed and frustrated and just wanting answers.
And suddenly, he's no longer able to convince himself otherwise – he needs them, tonight.
(→→ ←←)
It's maybe fifteen minutes later that he's within reach of her front door, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind racing with thoughts.
The moment he slid into the back seat of the cab, he began second guessing himself, and it hasn't stopped since arriving at her doorstep.
He's run through every possible scenario, overanalyzing the situation, and conjuring up each and every way it could go. He's scared shitless – petrified that they could end up somewhere he really doesn't want them to be, but, for once, he's determined to see this through.
He needs to know.
Taking a deep breath, he makes the decision and taps his knuckles against her door.
It's just a beat later that he hears her moving through her apartment and, suddenly, it's all so real. In an instant, all of those familiar instincts are washing over him, telling him to run and avoid and suppress, just like he always has.
He fights the impulse, but as her footsteps move closer, his heartrate skyrockets and the nerves return in full force.
Typically, he's not one to get nervous – especially not like this.
But, it's clear that whatever happens tonight, their relationship won't ever be the same and that's distressing, to say the least.
"Harvey," she greets him, the obvious surprise in her tone as she opens the door to find him standing on the other side. "What are you doing here?" She questions, looking as uneasy as he's ever seen her.
Truly, she must know.
"Can we talk?" He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Nodding her head, she pushes the door open, inviting him in. His lips curve just enough to thank her as he steps inside, allowing her to lead him towards her couch.
Suddenly, they're standing in her living room, both waiting for the other to speak as an awkward silence falls over them, neither one sure what to say.
She is as fidgety as he feels and it's a strange thing to witness given that she is always so composed. If he wasn't so anxious himself, he would probably find it amusing, but he's too busy trying to find the right words to dwell on it.
"Drink?" She offers, when the silence becomes too much.
He nods his head, but she's not even looking in his direction as she makes her way to the drink cart, just needing something to do with her hands.
"So… what's up?" She wonders, as she swiftly pours them each a glass.
He almost scoffs in response, but he's able to hold back despite the absurdity of her question. Clearly, she knows what's up.
"Well, I mean… you… you kissed me," he points out, not knowing how else to say it, as he watches her make her way towards him, a tumbler in each hand.
"I know," she replies, her voice a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment with a touch of apology, as she hands him a scotch.
Graciously accepting the glass, he takes a large sip, savoring the burn in his throat. "Why?" He wonders, full of curiosity.
"I… I don't know," she sighs, clearly struggling to formulate a response. "I had just talked to Mike and then Louis came into my office and made this whole impassioned speech about Sheila and… I guess I let them get into my head," she shrugs. "And then you – you walked in, and I… I just had to know," she tries to explain.
"Had to know what?" He questions.
"If there was something between us," she admits, a slight shrug of her shoulder revealing her uncertainty.
Nodding his head, his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. "And?"
"And?" She repeats, taken aback by the question. In fact, his entire demeanor has caught her off guard. She had been expecting anger or disappointment or just outright denial, but the way he's acting right now… it's dangerous because it's giving her hope.
"Is there?" He clarifies. "Is there something between us?" He says, putting his glass down on the coffee table and taking a tentative step forward.
Again, the question throws her for a loop. The fact that he's actually trying to have this conversation with her goes against everything she's ever known about the man and she doesn't know what to do with it.
"I – I don't know," she responds, unwilling to be the first to admit it. "I mean… did you… feel anything earlier… when we…" she drifts off, unable to actually say the words.
He doesn't respond at first, and she's sure this will end exactly how it always does – with him backtracking or denying or avoiding. She's sure he'll be walking out the door in no time.
But, he doesn't.
Instead, he looks her right in the eyes and says, "Yeah… I felt something," he confesses, practically exhaling the word.
It's not a real answer, but it's leaps and bounds more than what she was anticipating, and it causes a small flutter in her stomach.
"Yeah, I guess I did, too," she concedes, giving as much as she gets.
"Then, why did you leave?" He questions as he takes another step towards her.
"I guess I was afraid to stay," she admits with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Why?" He wants to know.
"Because… I didn't know what you were thinking… and I was too afraid to find out," she confesses, still tightly gripping her glass, her nerves running rampant.
"You want to know what I was thinking?" He asks, his voice soft and his eyes piercing as he continues to slowly inch towards her
Donna sucks in a breath, nervous to confirm that she does, but he doesn't even wait for a response. Instead, he's taking another step forward, closing almost all of the distance between them.
She feels her body getting warm as she remains frozen in place, watching as he invades her space and tilts his face a bit closer to hers.
"I was thinking that I wanted to kiss you again – that I didn't want to stop kissing you in the first place," he reveals, his gaze locked on hers.
"Harvey…" She exhales, surprise and longing in her voice as her heartrate skyrockets with his close proximity and unexpected admissions.
"I know," he sighs, his eyes momentarily flickering closed as he savors the sound of his name on her lips. "I just…" he begins, opening his eyes again to find her hazel irises staring back at him from underneath her lashes, so many questions in her gaze. "Donna," he declares, conveying so much with just the way he says her name.
Releasing a breath, Harvey reaches out for her, his fingertips grazing the back of her neck as his thumb brushes against her jaw. "I really want to kiss you again," he tells her while his eyes flicker to her mouth, watching as her teeth dig into her bottom lip. His other hand rests on her waist and as much as he wants more, he takes a moment to savor how good it feels to be this close.
He waits for her to say something, but she remains silent and studies his face, instead. Clearly, she's searching for something, so he just waits, letting her look.
He has nothing to hide anymore.
Still, when he feels the way she leans into his touch, he figures that has to be a good sign. So, he takes another chance. "Donna…" he says, again, almost a whisper on his lips. This time, it's him that is examining her face, looking for permission.
Exhaling a breath, her eyes meet his and the question on her lips is clear as day. "What about Paula?" She inquires, scanning his face for the answer as she awaits his response.
"That's over," he tells her immediately, wanting her to know. "I ended it," he adds, watching as her eyes widen before an immense amount of relief flows through her. Still, she's not done with her questions.
"Why?"
Harvey doesn't respond right away, taking a moment to let the question roll around in his brain as he absent-mindedly toys with her hair.
"Because it wasn't right," he tries to explain. "Because she's not the one… because she's not you," he continues, admitting more than he ever thought he would.
Somehow, her eyes get even wider this time. She's completely stunned by his admission, unable to say anything as she goes over his words in her head.
"When you kissed me tonight, I just knew," he expresses. "What you and I have, I could never have that with her. I could never have it with anyone else," he conveys, her face in his hands as he pours his heart out to her. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to see it," he apologizes, genuinely full of regret for all the years she spent thinking she was anything less than everything to him.
Still struggling to respond, she acknowledges his words with a slight bob of her head, while trying her best to keep her emotions under control. She can already feel her eyes glistening with unshed tears and she's just trying to keep herself together, but he's not making it easy.
Meanwhile, her silence is making him nervous, his palms falling from her face. He's never been as good at reading her as she is at reading him.
"So uh… what do you think?" He asks her, looking truly anxious for the first time tonight as he distracts himself by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Donna inhales a breath, exhaling slowly as a smile creeps out onto her lips. "I think you should kiss me," she says.
The words hit him right in the chest, causing a giant grin to spread across his face and a giggle to fall from her lips. "Yeah?" He asks, having trouble believing it.
"Yeah," she confirms with a nod.
So, he does.
He kisses her with everything he has and more.
And this time, when she pulls away, she's pulling him with her.
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