A/N Muhahahaha. That's all I have to say.
He was on his too many-th cup of coffee when she found him. He wanted it to be scotch, but it was barely noon. Instead, he gulped down the coffee in the same way that he gulped down tumbler after tumbler of scotch. She walked into the cafe he was in and ordered a coffee for herself before siting down across from him, reading the other side of the paper that he kept propped up as a barrier between them.
"You wanna flip to A8 so I can finish this article?" She asked and he handed her the entire front section rather than have to look at her, and instead started on the crossword. "Are you going to talk?" She asked him as he filled in a few of the easy words.
"Nice weather in Dallas." He said nonchalantly, trying to ignore her into leaving.
"It's a thousand degrees." She said, and he shrugged.
"It's sunny." She glared at him and he kept his focus on the crossword.
"What do you mean it would never work?"
"It just won't." He said, taking another gulp of coffee. He could feel his nerves completely shot from the sheer amount of caffeine in his body.
"Why not?" She asked, and he focused on filling in number eight across, the main character of the Beaumarchais operas. Figaro.
"You deserve someone who'll love you unconditionally no matter what." He said, moving on to the next blank.
"And you couldn't do that?" He didn't want to be having this conversation. Was she seriously saying that she could possibly be considering this? That she possibly could see herself with him?
"No." He said, trying to focus on the crossword. Small yellow bird shares a name with a town in New York. Woodstock.
"Why can't you?"
"Because I come with too much baggage. Three letters, Who song. It's a-" She looked at the crossword.
"Boy." She said, and he filled it in. "And what do you mean too much baggage?" She asked, trying to see if she knew any of the other answers on his crossword. "Didn't you say friends give each other grief?"
"Grief, not this." He said, thinking of actress Monroe.
"What exactly is this?" She asked as he filled in Marilyn.
"This?" He gestured between them. "This, whatever it is." She pulled the crossword out from in front of him.
"What do you want it to be?" Her honey colored eyes locked onto his.
"I want you to be happy and you need, you deserve, someone who doesn't come with all the strings attached that I do. You need someone just like Woody, only someone who loves you." He wanted to get up and leave again. He certainly didn't blame her for running, it really was something quite effective.
"You don't love me?" She asked, and he knew he was backed into a corner.
"It doesn't matter if I do or I don't, we're not going to work out, end of discussion." He said, reaching back for the crossword, which she sat on the table behind her.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because it won't and it's not worth risking this," He gestured between them again.
"This, as in, friendship?" She said and he nodded.
"Risking this, for a romantic thing. We've gone ten years without reaching this point, we don't ever have to go there." She looked hard into his eyes before staring down at the table.
"How much do you love me?" He looked at her questioning, trying to think of something to say. "Did you mean it, that you love me even with all my faults?" He nodded. Her faults were what made her, well, her. He couldn't picture her without them. "So why don't you want this?" He did want it, that was what made it so hard.
"Because I don't want to be another ex boyfriend." He said, getting up and walking out, knowing that his words had stung.