hi everyone, a quicker and actual shorter update than usual.. but it just felt right to end this chapter the way it does. I want to thank everyone for the reviews and likes and hehe, am I sorry about that last ending? Not really (mainly because it wasn't exactly planned and I shocked myself too when it came down to writing the scene).. As for some of you following me on twitter, and might have seen, I did indeed jot down an outline for a different multichapter fic, but I have absolutely NO intention of writing it just yet (or at all), I just needed it to get out of my head and I'm focussing on MM for now. Anyway, thanks for following the story and here's the next part. I really hope you'll continue to support it. Enjoy and as always, I'd love to know what you think.
x- M
MISTLETOE MYSTERY
CHAPTER XIV
After that, she ends the call, hands trembling, and her stomach drops so fast her knees almost sink into the snow. It's enough of a wobble to raise her hand and fake a smile at the passer-by eyeing her worryingly, anything to indicate she's okay.
Except she isn't.
Not at all.
.
"We're over."
The call ends before Harvey has a chance to get a word in, an opportunity to ask what is going on or ask what happened for Donna to react like this. He would already know if he could spare a second thought to it, but all he hears are her parting words over and over again.
"We're over. We're over. We're over."
His breath stammers in his throat, and he finds himself staring at his phone, but the ended call screen only confirms that this did happen. He draws in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and he turns to look around then. Taking in his surroundings, he'd momentarily forgotten where he was, and when Mike stares at him in return, he quickly shakes his head and snaps out of it.
"You okay, man?"
"I'm fine," he snaps back, but Mike knows him well enough to realise his demeanour gives away he's far from that. However, Mike also knows there's no point in pushing back on the subject, so he nods, returning to the show on the television in front of him.
Harvey scans the room around him- it's just Mike sitting in their living room. He exhales once until he catches sight of his phone again, stuffing it into his pocket with vigour as his feet carry him to the door. There isn't much thought to his actions, just his body moving and dragging him down three flights of stairs until he finds himself pounding his fist against the wooden door.
Once, twice, three times. Like usual, except it doesn't get answered, the door doesn't swing open, and he doesn't get to see her beautiful face.
He slaps his open palm against the frame once more, but the result is the same - silence.
"Donna," he growls, anger seething out of him in a deep breath. He raises his hand once more, but instead of slamming it on the door, it simply lands there. His forehead soon follows, leaning on it just beside the three brass numbers, and he whispers her name this time around.
"Donna, please."
He stays there like that for a minute until he hears a door open and closing on another level, and Harvey remembers where he is. Slowly pushing off of the door, he reaches for his phone. Fingers hitting the key, he considers using it, but she evidently doesn't want to see or talk to him, so he recedes.
Dragging his feet back up the stairs, he has a pit in his stomach and a pressure on his chest he hasn't felt in years. If ever. The closest his memory serves is his parents' divorce, but in a way, this is worse. The world he built himself after the one he grew up in crumbled down into pieces, now falling apart too, and he has no idea how to deal with it.
So Harvey does what he witnessed his father doing, downing away his sorrows with a glass of scotch as he plummets down in his desk chair and he tosses his phone on the surface in front of him.
.
There are tears in her eyes by the time she gets home, her fingers numb from the cold because she couldn't be bothered to put on some gloves. The trembling something she could excuse to the weather instead of him, but she knows better.
"Hey."
Donna flinches at the mere sound of Rachel's voice coming from the living room, hand falling against her chest and her back against the closed door. She breathes in deeply, wipes away the tear that rolls down her cheek, and she takes a moment to compose herself before shouting her greeting in return.
Rachel presses a finger down on her book, dropping it in her lap as she watches Donna make her way through the hallway. "Everything okay?" she asks, catching the redhead shudder.
Donna presses her lips into a smile, nods at Rachel and simply continues removing her coat. "It's just freezing outside, don't you think?" She rubs her hands together and brings them to her lips, blowing her warm breath over them for good measure as she avoids Rachel's questioning gaze. "I'm just going to pop into the shower."
.
The bottle of scotch is significantly more empty than it was when he poured his first drink, and he swivels the remainder of liquid around in his tumbler before bringing it to his lips. He inhales a whiff of his alcohol and places the glass down instead.
His head spins, his gaze is glassy, and the amount of alcohol he has consumed should indicate otherwise, but he's still sober. Painfully so, cause he can still hear her parting words and every single accusation thrown in his direction preceding that.
He's gone through every emotion in the span of an hour; confused, angry, hurt, betrayed, and when his gaze lands on the painting above his desk for the umpteenth time that night, it settles into understanding.
His thumb hovers above the first number under his speed dial, her name presented on his screen as a dare he doesn't take. He wants nothing more than to talk to her and tell her he is sorry, but he knows the chances of that happening are slim to none.
She left him standing in the hallway earlier that day, and the prospect of being directed straight to voicemail is too real. He longs to hear her voice, but the familiar 'tell me something interesting, and I might call back' won't come even close to fulfilling that need.
A sudden thought crosses his mind, the possibility of her not being interested enough in his apology to reach out. He swallows thickly, eyes the blacked-out screen in his hand once more, and any courage he had built up to call her vanishes, so he opens up his messages instead.
I'm sorry.
He types out the short message but hits backspace almost immediately after, and he closes his eyes. Let's his brain wreck over the words, but he's never been good with them.
I didn't tell your mother.
He hits send before he can talk himself out of it, he needs her to know, and she might not want to see him or hear him. But if he texts her, at least she'll know what he has to say.
He glances up at the painting again, and he thinks about his family. His father and Marcus know about the pact they made and suddenly wonders why her mother knowing is such a big deal as opposed to his family. His anger almost makes a comeback when he realises the difference. Gordon and Marcus are aware they're playing pretend, whereas Donna's mother thinks it's real. Something he didn't deny, not that he got the chance to do so, but Donna is the one lying to her family now.
"Shit," he groans, letting his head lean against his free hand. He rubs his forehead and runs his hand through his hair as he realises he made her do exactly what his mother made him do all those years ago. "Shit, shit."
But I didn't correct her either.
I'm sorry.
.
She rolls around over her bed, staring at her iPhone on the empty pillow beside her. She got the three notification messages two hours ago, and she knows they're from Harvey, but she hasn't looked yet. She is distracting herself and Rachel by offering to make dinner and doing the dishes as an excuse for the mess she made. She even pulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine, hoping the brunette would join her in drinking her sorrows over a sappy movie, but Rachel has one last paper to finish and declined.
She sighs, and deep down, she knows it's for the best because Rachel would ask questions. Not any, but especially the hard ones, the ones Donna has no intention of answering. Mostly because she has no clue what the answer to them is.
She bites down on her lip and stares at her phone again, narrowing in her gaze on the screen, and if it's taunting her thoughts, it lights up, revealing the background image of her and Harvey.
It's fake, but they look happy.
What they were doing was fake, but it still made her feel happy—confused, a little edgy, but mostly happy.
She sighs then, rolling on her back, and she brings her hands to cover her eyes as she goes over the events of the last couple of hours. The phone call with her mother, the one-sided argument she had with Harvey over the same medium and then those parting words.
We're over.
She's the one who said them, and rationally she knows it's for the best. The charade had to come to an end; eventually, December 31st, to be precise, she regrets blurting out the words.
There are only twelve; she pauses her thought and peers at the clock on the wall, eleven days left of their pact and minus the holidays, there are truly only so many days remaining where she gets to experience being with him.
It's all she'll ever have, and as screwed up as it sounds, she wants them. Deep down, she wants them.
A part of her thinks she might be able to see him tomorrow. To pretend this never happened, keeping up appearances for just a couple of days more if it weren't for those three texts, messages that are indisputably voicing his opinion to her outburst.
Maybe he agrees. Perhaps he thinks it's for the best.
Her heartbeat increases at the intruding thoughts, and her lower lip trembles on an exhale. The following week's course is spelt out and within reach, but she can't bring herself to read it.
She can't bring herself to give up the fantasy all together – being near him, laughing with him, finding excuses to touch him and hold him close. Feeling her digits link with his as he holds her hand, the way his thumb runs over her knuckles as their linked hands swing back and forth as they walk and talk.
She knows her clothes and her sheets will still smell like him for the coming days, but she isn't ready to give up on the warmth radiating off of him as he sleeps next to her, the way his arm drapes over her in his sleep and moulds her against his frame. The soft kiss pressed against her temple or his sleepy voice mumbling her name in the morning.
She pulls the free pillow out from under the phone, dropping it back on top of it as she rolls on her side before facing the space he would normally occupy. She closes her eyes at last- ignoring the inevitable future, she thinks about the video she recorded ten days ago instead.
.
Harvey stares at the red numbers displayed on his alarm, blinking once; it turns from 2.05 am to 2.06 am. He automatically brings his hand to cover his mouth, but he's too tired to yawn yet unable to succumb to sleep—the unease of the situation with Donna keeping him awake.
He leans forward, arm stretched out, and he gives his alarm a push to the edge. His fingertips fall onto his phone as he moves back, the screen lights up. But, apart from Donna's picture in the background, there's no sign of life from her side, not yet.
He fishes his phone from the nightstand for the fourth time that night, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. The text messages to Donna still on his screen; he lets his gaze drift over them from top to bottom once more.
The 'delivered' presented under it is taunting his patience. He thinks he might have been prepared for her to see them and forgo on answering; seeing she didn't even look at them hurts more.
Harvey grunts, tosses the phone back and kicks the blanket aside as he rolls over to the other side of his bed. The vanilla scent of Donna's shampoo ingrained on his pillow overwhelms his senses, and he pulls it out from under his head, tossing it to the far end of the room.
.
It's almost three in the morning, and Donna's still awake, now not just sleepy but downright exhausted. She'd give anything to fall into a deep slumber and forget the mess she made today, but she has already tried the hot drink, the breathing exercises and the counting.
If only she were a guy, she could orgasm herself to sleep. She almost laughs at the thought, but it's a nagging one that has her cup her breast over her shirt, the other slipping in her panties all the same a minute later.
She runs her fingers over her lips, circling her clit before slipping a finger inside her and a soft moan rolls off of her tongue as she closes her eyes. Then, head tilting back into her pillow, she works her fingers inside her, her body responding but not as quickly as she'd like.
She rolls over, grinds against her hand and then automatically reaches for the box with her trusty vibrator under her bed when she remembers the new toy she bought a few days back. The five star-reviews all promising a release from under a minute to as quick as in mere seconds. She kicks the sheets aside, crawling over her bed to the dresser.
Removing the satisfier from the box, she quickly scans the instructions and then flicks on the big button feeling the silver-toned gadget coming to life in her hand. Lifting her hips to slide her panties down her legs, Donna scoots over her bed before she lays down back and moves the toy between her legs.
Adjusting the settings to another level, it's mere seconds after pressing the satisfier against her throbbing core that Harvey's lingering scent on her sheets and Rachel's words take over her mind.
Suddenly it's his hand spreading her open, his tongue lapping over her slit and his mouth closing in on her clit, sucking until she comes undone a couple of seconds later. She's too out of breath to moan his name, but he is the only thing on her mind.
.
Thursday, Dec 20
"Fuck man," Tanner grunts as Harvey increases his pace and runs out in front of him once again. "What's gotten into you?" he yells as he ups his game and catches up with his roommate in a couple of yards.
"Nothing," he shrugs, jogging on his spot at the pedestrian crossing. His eyes remain focused on the traffic light instead of his friend. "You're just too slow, I guess."
"Ooh, fuck off." Tanner pushes Harvey's shoulder the second the light turns, kicking off his run before Harvey can, and he stays ahead for one street until they turn onto campus.
They jog the last 20 yards side by side, pushing ahead of one another every other step as they near the apartment building. Tanner winning the final stretch as Harvey's pace automatically slows down when he spots them – Donna and Rachel walking side by side as they exit the building.
He turns to look to his left, gaze landing on the redhead and narrowing in with every step he comes closer. He watches her fall silent, watches her take in a deep breath the second her gaze meets his, and it doesn't matter that he doesn't have anything to say, his throat drying up as his body doesn't stop and neither does hers. Both are walking along, right past one another, and apart from their locked gazes, the exchange is nothing more than one between two strangers.
He looks away first, turns ahead as he reaches the stairs up to the entrance. Then, dragging his feet up the three steps, he grabs hold of the door as Tanner rushes through first. The movement enough for him to stall, and he peers over his shoulder in her direction, but she keeps walking ahead.
"Did you hear me?" Rachel asks, tapping her elbow against Donna's as she clutches her yoga mat under her arm.
"Huh." Donna snaps out of her thoughts, presses her lips into a thin line and nods. "Yeah," she lies. "Sounds great," she adds, agreeing to Rachel's suggestion, even though she has no idea what it is that got suggested.
She longingly looks over her shoulder instead, hoping to see him standing there, but she catches the tail end of the entrance door falling shut. The sound echoing through her as her heart aches – she misses him.
.
Rachel pulls a bottle of red wine from the kitchen, turning it over in her hand to read the label, and she peers back towards the living room, but there's no sign of the redhead yet. "You ready yet?" she calls out, checking her watch.
Donna spins her phone around on her table with her index finger, absentmindedly staring in the distance as she hears Rachel call out for her. Finally, Donna snaps from her daze; she looks down at the script in front of her and sighs at her non-existent concentration today.
"Uhm," she mutters. Scrambling onto her feet, she remembers agreeing to something this morning, but she still hasn't figured out what that was and whatever it is, she's in no way ready—still dressed in her yoga pants from that morning, a simple sweater thrown on top of it.
"No," she yells back truthfully. "Sorry, I forgot the time. Why uhm… don't you go ahead and I'll uhm… meet you there?"
Rachel walks over to Donna's room, slowly pushes the door open and eyes her friend. A chuckle leaves her lips as Rachel spots the messy bun on top of Donna's head and the slippers on her feet. "You sure? I can wait."
"No, no." Donna shakes her head and waves with her head, dismissing Rachel's suggestion. "Just go, and I'll see you there."
"Okay."
It's only when Donna hears the door fall shut that she exhales, shoulder slumping, and she kicks off her slippers and brings her hand to her hair to undo the tie.
After a quick shower, she gets dressed and mentally prepares herself for meeting up with Rachel, wherever that may be. But her excitement stagnates every time she thinks about Harvey and how they, or rather she, left things - she has to fix her mess.
Starting with her parting words and his messages, she snatches her phone from her desk and opens them up at last.
I didn't tell your mother.
But I didn't correct her either.
I'm sorry.
The messages don't address her parting words, but a weight lifts off of her shoulders all the same because she remembers the most important thing; he's her best friend.
He'll always be her best friend. Even if he'll never be ready for them to be the more she got a glimpse of the last weeks. It might feel like settling now, but she knows in the end, having him in her life is what she wants most, in any way she can take and if that's simply being her best friend. She'll take it.
She's out of the door, rushing up the three flights of stairs in a beat. She doesn't bother catching her breath, marching straight up to the door. Donna's balled up hand falls against the door in three firm knocks.
Harvey exhales at the banging, a familiar rhythm. A part of him doesn't want to get his hopes up; the other tells him that if he's right and she's standing on the other side of the door, he'll do anything in his power to make things right again.
Dragging his body off the couch, he makes his way down the hallway. Fingers crossing behind his back for a second as he takes a deep breath, and then he pulls the door open.
Her breath falters the second she lays her eyes on him, everything suddenly falling back into place.
Harvey exhales in relief when he spots her, a soft smile already tugging on the corner of his lips as he opens the door further—an unspoken exchange of apologies as he takes a step back, followed by another two.
And when she lunches forward, taking three significant strides until her arms are around his neck and his arms fall around her waist in a tight hug, he realises he doesn't just want to make things right. He wants to make things work; he wants for them to become an actual couple.
Her head rests on his shoulder, her hands gripping onto his shirt as she holds him close and breathes him in for a moment. "I'm sorry."
He hears her whisper an apology, but he shakes his head and turns his chin to press against her temple. "I'm sorry too," he breathes, hand squeezing her shoulder as he closes his eyes and revels in their closeness.
Tanner passes a beer to Sean and then peers around the corner into the hallway. A low laugh leaving his lips as he sees the two wrapped up in one another's arms. Nothing wrong, my ass, he thinks with a shake of her head.
"Get a room."
Donna startles at the sudden intrusion of Tanner's voice, eyes widening and only as she distances herself from Harvey does she realise the background noise. All the other voices that are chatting back and forth. Mike, Rachel, Sean, Dana. Everyone is there.
Harvey watches Donna look back and forth between the gathering in the living room and him. He nudges her elbow with his hand, offering her a soft smile before a verbal explanation. "The movie night you –"
"Right," she mumbles, nodding as she puts the pieces together again. They did this every year with their group of friends; she should have known.
"Come on," he says, motioning for her to follow him with a nod of his head. He tugs on her hand with his own and guides her to the rest of the group.
She waves at her friends, and while her smile is genuine this time around, she is still a little shaken. The warm hand on the small of her back not helping, she glances over her shoulder at Harvey, finding him already looking at her, and her stomach does a somersault. One she has to ignore now, and she shuffles a little, just out of his touch. "Can we ..uhm… talk?"
He hides the way his chest tightens at her request with a firm nod. He signals his bedroom with a wave of his hand, and he stays one step behind her as she makes her way over to his room.
She stops pacing back and forth when she hears the door close; turning around, she faces him again, and Donna wishes she didn't feel nervous, but she does – at least a little. She notices how he remains stood, too, and it brings her off her game even more because this isn't them.
Donna moves to his bed then, sitting down on the edge. Fingers nervously tapping against her knee, she folds them in her lap when the duvet dents as he sits down next to her.
"I'm sorry," she says again, lifting her gaze from her feet as she peeks up at him. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. That wasn't fair; it wasn't your fault."
Harvey lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding; there's so much he wants to say. Some of it already done over text; he merely nods now. But, out of fear of making it worse, it's a talent he has, after all.
Harvey draws his right thumb over his left, letting his elbows lean on his knees as he observes the way her gaze trails from him to the painting on his wall, and his own follows. "It's my mom's," he admits then.
His words leave her speechless for a moment, mostly because she knows he has no contact with his mother whatsoever and has no intention of reconciling with her. So for him to have a piece of her in his room all along is huge – him so casually bringing it up even more, and if she weren't so shocked, she would have seen it as growth.
"I figured," she whispers, at last, protecting herself from the myriad of feelings and thoughts of what-ifs this shakes loose.
His gaze clouds, and his head tilts back ever so slightly.
She isn't even looking at him, but she can feel the confusion in the look he's giving her. Twiddling with her thumbs, she pieces her thoughts together into an answer. How she's seen his room change a couple of times over the years, but that painting, that strange painting, was always there - and she knows him well enough that he'd only hold onto something like that if it has a special meaning. Like the shirt, his dad got him, the baseball from when he won that scholarship, his father's records. She remembers a particular one then, cover laced with family pictures.
"I saw the picture on one of your dad's records."
He breaks his gaze away and looks down, swallows thickly, and Harvey bites on his tongue.
"Are you okay?"
He shakes his head and blinks back the tears forming in his eyes. "It's uhm…" He presses his fist against his top lip and nose, scraping his throat once. "The last happy memory I uhm… have of my mom."
Donna's mouth slowly parts at his admission; she eyes the painting again and then thinks to the particular picture from the record. Harvey as a kid looking up to his mother painting. "But," she stammers. "You were – "
"Eight," he fills in her unasked question, turning to look at her again when he feels her left hand fold over his right.
She soothingly runs her thumb over the back of her best friend's hand until it stops trembling under her touch. She gives him a gentle squeeze when it does, and as much as it pains her to say it. Cause if he ever changes his mind, it most likely won't be with her. She needs him to know. "You could do it, you know."
"What?"
"You told me what happened with your mom," she starts, recalling a conversation she had with him in a bar years ago. "And I know you said you don't want a relationship, but I just need you to know that you could."
She pauses as his gaze meets her.
"She's going to be really lucky; you know that, right?" Donna whispers with one last squeeze of his hand before she removes hers from his.
Harvey gazes at her, still tuck on the earlier part of their conversation. Then, fingers twitching beside his thigh at the lack of her touch, he shakes his head in confusion. "Who?"
"The girl you'll end up falling in love with."
He jerks back and frowns now. The smile that started to tug on the corner of his lip disappears as he tries to comprehend what the only girl he's ever loved is saying. "Donna –"
"Hey, lovebirds, are we going to watch this movie, or what?" It's Alex' voice blasting through the room, paired with a knock on his door that interrupts their conversation, and they part instantly.
"Just start the damn thing," Harvey belts back after a beat, taking a deep breath before he turns to look at her again. A lot has been said between them, but the current state of their pact still unspoken – and their friends are none the wiser.
Either they come out and inform them now, or they have to keep up appearances. Harvey runs his thumb over his nose, drawing his lips between teeth as he fumbles over the words. "Do you still want this to be over?"
She pulls on the edge of her sleeve, draws in a breath and takes a moment to think things over. She knows it would be best to end it now. It would be way easier to get back to being best friends if this was it.
But they have four days of planned activities left, watching a movie tonight – the guy's lame excuse of planning an event. Then, strolling over the market tomorrow, a yearly excuse for her to look for a guy she can't and now doesn't want to remember. Ice-skating the day after – Katrina's idea of reliving her glory days on the rink and then there's the Christmas Eve Eve's sleepover Rachel's been so excited about for weeks.
And if there's one thing she finds more difficult than sabotaging her happiness, it is taking away that of their friends.
So against better judgement, and because deep down she isn't ready for it to be over, she whispers: "No."