30
Asher
When we were teenagers, Rhea made me watch this dumb movie about vampires and werewolves. I don’t remember the name, all I remember is it wasn’t the first in the series or the last so I was lost as fuck, but what I do remember is this scene where the main girl got her heart broken.
I didn’t get it.
She sat stoically in the same chair for months, staring out the window like she was waiting for him to return, and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just move on with her life. She sat there for days, weeks, months, withdrew from her friends and obsessed over this vampire until she hallucinated his presence, and I remember thinking wow, this shit definitely isn’t real. No one has that much of a hold over someone... it’s fucking impossible.
I think I get it now.
I’m not sitting and staring out the window, but now that I understand how it feels for a person to leave with your heart, I get why she didn’t want to do anything else. Mundane tasks feel like I’m running against the wind, and every time Manson gives me that disappointed look, I want to disappear into nothing.
Was that girl actually waiting on her man to come back? Or was she simply waiting for death because it was preferable?
When we’re not working, we’re both staring at her location and arguing about whether we did the right thing, and each time we do the air around us turns sour.
I don’t know if we did the right thing, but if she wanted to come home, I think Blair would have told us, so I use that knowledge to stand my ground every time Manson begins chipping at my armor. “It was never real, Manson. I want it to be fucking real, and if she comes back to us, then we’ll know.”
“You gave her fifty fucking grand!” he pushes. “You used to understand that she needed a goddamn reason to be here, that’s why we did all of it. The collar, the cuffs, stealing all of her shit. What reason would she have to come back now?”
Love.
I can’t even make myself say the word, so I just lean forward to brace my elbows on my knees and drop my face into my hands. “I thought I didn’t care that it wasn’t real, but I do. And you do, too. Don’t feed me that bullshit when you’ve got the biggest heart out of all of us. Deep down you know we had to do this.”
“No, deep down I knew we were fucking getting there.” He tugs on his hair, pacing back and forth in front of me. “We should’ve waited. A few weeks of kindness wasn’t enough to erase the shit we did.”
“No, it wasn’t. That’s exactly why we had to do this,” I argue. “She gets to choose now.”
“You’re missing the goddamn point. Why would she choose to come back when we barely showed her the good?” He pivots, facing me with a wild look in his eyes. “I don’t fucking want her to come back.”
“What?”
He’s not making sense, and I don’t have it in me to figure out what he means.
“This shit will never end. Real, not real. How are we gonna handle it if she comes back then fucking leaves again?”
“She won’t.” I stand to stop him from his useless pacing. “That’s my fucking point. If we didn’t do this we’d never know if one day she might decide she’ll never love us and leave, but if we gave her the choice and she chose to come back in spite of having all the money to start new, we’d know she’s 100% choosing us. That it’s real.”
“When did you start having faith?”
Good fucking question, and I’m surprised I already know the answer. “The moment I let myself believe she might learn to love me.”
Manson’s face softens as he reaches out to take my hand. “I’m glad you have it, then. Cause I sure as fuck don’t. I wouldn’t love us if I were her.”
Sadly, I lace my fingers with the only person who has ever chosen me and nod. “If I was her I’d run as far as I could from me. I’d come back for you, though.”
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.” He leans in to kiss me, but it’s brief. “Sorry you never got to do that while she was awake, by the way. It’s a different world.”
I know. I also know I haven’t earned that... I probably never will. “Glad you did at least. If she never comes home, I get it if you want to leave too. You could go find her.”
Even saying it hurts in a way I’ve never experienced before, but I find I actually mean it.
“Fuck you. We get her back together or we never get her back at all,” he mutters. “But it’s... different now, isn’t it? With us.”
“I don’t think that hole will ever be filled, and I honestly don’t even want to try. Only she can fill it.”
“Then let’s hope she comes home. Go check her location again, tell me where she’s at.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
It’s weird they’re already home from that fancy restaurant, but I guess our girl decided to do takeout instead. When I tell him her location I know he feels just as relieved as I do about her staying indoors. Blair’s one of the toughest people I know, and if they’re at home together, we know she’ll be safe between the two of them. They can kick some ass if they need to, but to make us feel a little better, we make ourselves comfortable on the couch and pull up the video feed to see for ourselves.
We may have let her go free from under our noses, but she’ll never truly be rid of us. It’s not in our nature.