Heartfelt Makeover #2
I swallow that down, torn between the butterflies and the itch that I shouldn’t have butterflies, but this isn’t a moment for spiraling.
I take a deep breath and just go with a more pragmatic attitude towards the conversation.
Giving in to curiosity without revealing any of my emotions.
I shouldn’t even do that much, but there’s this thin line between should and shouldn’t when it comes to Marcus that I can’t seem to stop walking along.
“So what you're saying is it was a like-at-first-sight thing?” I ask him, grabbing some moisturizer to get started.
“I don't think so. I think it was lust at first sight, definitely, but I think the obsession came from knowing you two shouldn’t be messing around but you were gonna live in the same house and he was trying to find some way to rationalize how to be in your space without wanting to be in your space, if you catch my drift,” he says with a pink tint highlighting his cheeks.
“Didn’t work,” I unhelpfully supply, more focused on getting his face prepped for makeup application than on the conversation. I’m taking everything he says in; I can’t help it, considering the subject matter, but my brain is focused more on listening than on replying at the moment.
“No, definitely not. I think he was trying to tackle you like a class assignment. Find the problem, research everything about it to figure out how to solve it. The flaw is you're a person, not an assignment, so it made the obsession worse instead of finding a solution,” he says.
I furrow my brow at that. “I was like a class assignment?”
Tristan shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, in all fairness, he’d never been in a similar situation before, and his best friend is a guy who randomly saw a stranger’s face in a crowd and obsessively stalked the city for months searching for the stranger again.
So it’s not like he had the strongest panel of advisors to rely on.
We may be intelligent when it comes to books, but that doesn’t mean either of us was equipped for romance. ”
I cluck my tongue at that. “But yet, Marcus has no problem cutting up at parties and getting laid,” I point out.
Tristan chuckles lightly. “Have you seen Marcus?
Gorgeous football player, business savvy, respectful, loves his mama, and has a wallet so thick it can't be closed. Do you think he needs to be smooth as well? Take the cheesiness of his lines, for example. It works because he says them with his whole handsome, confident chest, not because they are witty on any level.”
I sit back for a second and really let that sink in. “So what you’re saying is a socially inept mastermind is wooing me?” I ask, more than a little gobsmacked by the revelation.
Tristan opens his eyes for a moment now that my hands are temporarily not dabbing creams and powders on his face, and they search mine with something indecipherable in them.
“I mean, not at this direct moment he’s not, but in general, eventually, someday, maybe yeah,” he says, still searching for some sort of reaction.
And I get it. I may theoretically be his future sibling-in-law because he and Qi aren’t actually engaged, but he’s also Marcus’s best bro, so the middleman fence Tristan is on can’t be easy for him at all.
Realizing that, though, doesn’t stop my next question because the way he worded it sounds significant. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s backing off like you asked him to.
It means that his feelings are unchanged, but he’s swallowing it down because you said you’ve had enough.
He wants to be with you if you want to be with him, but he doesn’t want to force you, so he’s not wooing you right now.
But if he sees an opportunity where he thinks he might have a shot, then I don’t think he’ll hesitate,” he says solidly.
“What he should do is move on from this completely. I’m obviously not good for him, or for anybody,” I point out, hoping Tristan at least can recognize the need to reason with Marcus a bit more.
Tristan leans back into my space, a clear invitation to get back to work.
I don’t know if he realizes this conversation will be easier if I have a task on hand to focus on, or if it’s for him as well.
I’ve noticed on more than one occasion that being social at any level isn't exactly his superpower.
Yet another reason he fits in so well with my family, and especially Qi.
“Well, one, that’s not your call; it’s his.
And two, you’re right, you aren’t good for anyone right now.
People aren’t great all the time; we all have bad moments.
However, those bad moments don’t define us for a lifetime, just for that moment.
This is your bad moment. When you get to the other side of it, you’ll be amazing for anyone you give a chance to,” he says, and I swallow hard at that because he’s not negating the mess I am, but he’s still giving me the faith that I can be better.
I don’t know if the faith is misplaced, but knowing it’s there is fundamentally huge for me.
“Four years is one hell of a bad moment,” I point out.
“Four years is nothing in the grand scheme of your life, Qiang. There’s nothing here that can’t be overcome,” he says solidly back.
I don’t know what to say. My chest is tight, torn between hope and despair, with so many emotions swirling through me that I can’t even grasp whether it’s altogether positive or negative. I reach for the bronzer when his eyes snap open again and meet mine.
“He cries,” he says simply.
“Who, Marcus?”
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. The pain in his eyes is enough for me to know who he’s talking about. In all fairness, I knew it when he first said it; I just didn’t want to hear it. Still don’t, but it’s necessary and deserved that I do.
“No, Qi,” he confirms my suspicions.
He nods his head towards the bronzer and closes his eyes again, and I lean in to get back to the makeover.
“He cries because you lied to him. He cries because you guys aren’t getting along very well right now.
He cries because he thinks he’s failing you when you need him the most. And he cries because he’s angry with you and thinks he’s hurting you more than you already are, and it makes him feel shitty,” he says quietly, saying what he needs to say, but also trying to keep his face steady while I work.
I let out a heavy sigh because I really don’t know what to say. Nothing seems enough, and then every time I try to gather words, they all come at me at once, and it’s too much.
It was easier to hide when I wasn’t around Qi all the time.
I don’t know why I was under the impression that moving in with him and seeing him all the time wouldn’t change anything.
I don’t know if I should have known better, or if I was really stupid enough to believe I could keep hiding even when he was right in front of me.
Arrogance and selfishness. And all it leads to is unfairly hurting the very best person I’ve ever known.
“I promise that I understand that you’re legitimately hurting and very upset, and I really, truly, from the very bottom of my heart hate that.
You didn’t deserve what was done to you, and you very much deserve the space to feel your feelings.
But there’s gotta be a give somewhere when the only ones getting the backlash from your pain are the ones who care about you the most. In one night, you hurt my best friend's feelings, you hurt your own feelings, and the love of my life cried himself to sleep. You are too good a person to be okay with these things, and I just– at what point do you realize that the one hurting you the most right now is yourself?” he vents out a bit heatedly, causing me to pause while he gets it out.
I know a big part of this is that Tristan can’t stand to see Qi hurting at all.
If ever a man had a weakness, that one is his.
And I’m the cause. He can’t send me away without causing more damage, and he can’t keep me around without causing damage.
His hands are tied, and the frustration of not being able to make Qi’s pain disappear with the snap of his fingers is clear on his face with an expression that is very familiar to one I’ve seen Marcus have when he looks at me sometimes.
“I know, I just–” I trail off, not knowing the words I need to articulate right now.
I knew this conversation was going to happen, and I knew it was gonna be hard, which is why I delayed it for several days. But fuck me, if knowing a thing and experiencing it aren’t two wholly different things.
Tristan’s thumb runs lightly across my wrist, pulling my attention back to his face.
“This is not something that can’t be overcome, Qiang.
You deserve the chance to work through this and to find some peace and happiness again.
You deserve to work things out with Qi and get back to where you were before shit hit the fan.
And you deserve to find happiness in a future that you choose to have, not the one you feel like you should have, or even one you’ve convinced yourself you deserve because you’re selling yourself short. ”
I nod my head, blinking back tears and motioning for him to come forward so I can work on highlighting his eyes.
“I tried therapy. I really tried in the beginning, and I hated it. They kept wanting me to relive everything in vivid detail, and it made everything worse, not better,” I try to explain.
“Look up,” I add with a thin brush in my hand.
I’m not trying to excuse the past four years of negligence in this department, but I haven’t really sat down and explained to anyone what happened back then and why I gave up on therapy instead of sticking it out as I should have.