✧･Chapter 6 This Isnt Me
Six Years Ago, Morning After the Wedding
I woke up with a dull ache behind my eyes and something heavier sitting in my chest.
At first, I didn't question it. Just another morning after too much to drink, another unfamiliar room, another slow climb back into awareness. My head pulsed faintly, my mouth dry, my body reluctant to move as I stayed there with my eyes closed, letting myself exist in that quiet, in-between space.
Jesus Chirst.
I let my eyes open, squinting as I looked across the room, the sunlight spilling through the curtains, but not bright enough to cause a worse headache that I already had.
I shifted, or at least, I had tried too. My arm was pinned, half-numb and when I glanced over, my throat almost fell into my chest.
Oh my God, Mae.
My breathing hitched as I stared down at her, and everything hit at once. Not just the night - the elevator, the tension, the way she stopped me from leaving, the kiss that should've been a mistake but hadn't felt like one for a second - but everything that had come before that, too.
Every look I'd held a second too long, every joke that had meant more than I let on, every moment I'd pretended wasn't building into something I didn't want to name.
Mae was pressed into me, her arm draped across my waist, her face tucked near my shoulder, her breathing slow and even like nothing in the world was wrong.
Like she hadn't just completely shifted something I'd been trying very hard not to acknowledge for weeks, months, longer than I wanted to admit.
Her hair was a mess, soft where it brushed against my skin, and she was still in that dress, wrinkled and half-twisted from last night.
My gaze dropped back to her, slower now, taking in details I couldn't seem to stop myself from noticing. The way her fingers curled slightly against my side, like she'd reached for me in her sleep and never let go. The faint crease in her brow, even now, like something in her never fully rested.
I knew her and that was the problem itself. This wasn't some stranger I could forget the second I left the room. This was Mae, who I'd already let matter more than she should've, Mae, who I'd been circling for too long, pretending it was nothing when it had never been nothing.
And now, she was here. In my arms, like this.
I swallowed, my throat dry, my thoughts suddenly too loud and too quiet all at once. Because there wasn't a version of this where I got to pretend it didn't mean something. Not anymore, not after last night.
"Fuck." I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment.
The word had barely left my mouth when I felt her shift.
Mae inhaled sharply, her body tensing against mine before she even fully woke up, like something in her already knew.
For a second she stayed there, still half-curled into me, her hand resting against my side, her face tucked close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath.
It was quiet, fragile in a way that made something in my chest tighten instead of settle.
Then she opened her eyes.
I didn't miss it - the exact moment everything hit her. The confusion flickered first, soft and unfocused, and then it was gone, replaced with something sharper like awareness, memory, and... regret.
Her body went rigid before she pulled away from me too quickly, the sudden loss of her warmth jarring enough to make me sit up. She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, dragging the sheet with her like she needed something between us, like she couldn't stand the space without a barrier.
I pushed myself up on one elbow, blinking through the lingering haze of sleep and the dull throb behind my eyes. "Hey," I said, my voice rough but instinctively light, like I could smooth this over before it turned into something worse. "Easy. You're okay."
She didn't look at me.
Mae pressed a hand to her forehead, her fingers digging in slightly as she tried to steady her breathing.
It wasn't subtle, whatever she was feeling, it was already spiraling, already slipping out of her control.
I'd seen people regret nights before, seen the panic, the backtracking, the need to make it disappear.
I just hadn't expected it from her.
"Mae?" I tried again, softer now, more careful.
She shook her head, like she could physically dislodge the night from her mind. "I-" Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard before trying again. "What-"
She stopped, jaw tightening, her shoulders pulling in like she was bracing for something.
And just like that, I felt myself fall into something familiar, a role I knew how to play. I exhaled slowly, leaning back a little, forcing my tone to stay easy, unaffected, like none of this mattered even as something sharp started pressing under my ribs.
"Hey, relax," I said, giving a small shrug. "It's fine. Seriously. It was just a drunk night. It doesn't have to be a whole thing."
That should've helped, it always had helped. But Mae finally looked at me, and instead of relief, her expression tightened. "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, it's not just that."
Something in my chest shifted.
"Okay," I said slowly, still trying to keep it light, even though it was getting harder. "Then what is it?"
She hesitated, like she didn't want to say it out loud but didn't know how not to. "What the hell happened, Claire?" Her voice was quieter now, but firmer.
I stared at her, my eyes narrowing slightly before I could stop myself. "You're joking." I said, and it came out sharper than I meant it to.
She didn't react right away, just kept looking at me, too steady, too serious and my stomach dropped.
"Mae-" I exhaled, dragging my hand through my hair, trying to reset, trying to pull this back before it spiraled. "Look, I get that this is new for you, okay? But you cannot seriously not remember anything from last night." I forced a small, almost disbelieving laugh. "That's not- no."
"I don't," she said, cutting in, her voice tight. "I remember drinking, I remember the reception, and then-" She gestured vaguely between us, frustration building. "Then I wake up here. With you."
Something hot and sharp flared up my spine. "With me," I repeated, quieter now, but heavier. "Yeah. You woke up with me."
Mae's jaw clenched. "Don't twist it."
"I'm not twisting anything," I shot back, the edge slipping through now. "I'm telling you what happened."
"No, you're not," she snapped. "You're acting like I should just- what? Accept it? Like this is normal?"
"Normal?" I let out a hollow laugh, pushing myself up off the bed now because sitting there suddenly felt impossible. "You kissed me, Mae."
She shook her head immediately. "I don't remember that."
"Yeah, I got that," I said, my voice sharper now. "You've said that part."
"I'm serious, Claire."
"So am I."
The room went tight, both of us standing on opposite sides of something that had already broken.
Mae crossed her arms like she was holding herself together. "Then tell me," she said, her voice steadier now, but only because she was forcing it to be. "Tell me what happened."
I stared at her for a second, really looked at her. At the distance, the denial, the way she was already pulling away like none of it had mattered.
Like I hadn't mattered and something in me snapped.
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh as I stood, running a hand through my hair before reaching for my dress off the floor. "You really don't remember?" I asked, my voice lighter than I felt, something brittle threading through it.
Mae didn't answer and that was answer enough. I shook my head, huffing out another laugh as I started pulling my dress back on, not even bothering to smooth it out at first. "Wow."
"Claire-"
"No, no, you want to know what happened?" I cut in, glancing at her as I fixed the strap on my shoulder, my movements sharper now. "I'll tell you what happened."
She went still.
I laughed again, quieter this time, but there was nothing amused about it as I reached up to fix my hair, fingers shaking just slightly before I forced them steady.
"You pulled me into your room," I said, meeting her eyes now. "You kissed me first. Not the other way around."
Mae's expression flickered.
"You don't remember that?" I tilted my head slightly, something almost mocking slipping into my tone to cover the way my chest was tightening. "Not you grabbing me like you were scared I'd walk away?"
"Stop-"
"Not me asking you what the hell you were doing?" I continued, talking over her now, because if I stopped, I might actually feel this. "Not you telling me that you wanted me?"
Mae shook her head, but it wasn't as firm this time. "Claire, I said-"
"Not you begging me not to stop?" I cut in, the words hitting harder now, sharper, because they were true. Because I remembered every second of it.
That landed and her face changed, just slightly, but enough.
"And you really don't remember," I went on, quieter now, but worse somehow. "How many times I made you come?"
"Claire," she snapped, her voice cracking slightly, color rising to her face. "Stop."
"Or that part, too?" I laughed again, shaking my head as I smoothed down the fabric of my dress, even though it didn't need it. I just needed something to do with my hands. "How you held onto me like I was the only thing keeping you grounded? How you kept saying 'don't stop.'"
"Stop it!"
The way she said it, louder this time, breaking, finally made me pause and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Mae was breathing harder now, her composure cracking completely, her eyes bright with something that wasn't just anger.
"You don't get to throw that at me like that," she said, her voice unsteady.
"I told you I don't remember, and you're just... what? Using it against me?"
I stared at her, something in my chest twisting painfully.
"Using it against you?" I repeated, quieter now, the anger still there but tangled up with something else, something worse. "I'm not using anything against you, Mae. I'm telling you what happened."
"Well, maybe I don't want to know like that!" she shot back, her voice rising again. "Maybe I don't want you standing there acting like - like it meant something when I don't even remember choosing it!"
That hit me hard and I went still, the words sinking in deeper than anything else she'd said.
"Right," I said after a second, my voice dropping, something colder settling in. "Because that's the problem."
Mae blinked, thrown off. "What?"
"You didn't choose it," I said, nodding slowly, even though my chest felt like it was caving in. "That's what you're stuck on." I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "God forbid you actually wanted me, right?"
"That's not what I said!"
"It's exactly what you said," I snapped, the control finally slipping completely. "You just dressed it up nicer."
"I'm trying to understand what happened!"
"And I'm telling you what happened!" I shot back. "You wanted me. You kissed me. You didn't hesitate, you didn't second guess it, you just - did it! And now you're sitting here acting like it was some kind of accident?"
Mae shook her head, backing up slightly like the words were too much. "I was drunk!"
"And I wasn't?" I fired back immediately. "Or does it only count for you?"
"That's not fair-"
"No, what's not fair," I cut in, my voice dropping again, quieter but sharper, "is you pretending it didn't mean anything just because you don't want it to."
Mae looked at me like she didn't recognize me anymore. Or maybe like she was starting to recognize something she didn't want to.
"I can't do this," she said finally, her voice breaking just slightly. "I can't... Claire, this isn't me."
And there it was, that word.Isn't.Like last night didn't count, like I didn't count. I let out a slow breath, nodding once as I grabbed my shoes, my movements calmer now as I moved to the door, my chest cracking open in the process of it.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I got that."
Mae didn't say anything. She just stood there, caught between something she wouldn't admit and something she didn't know how to face.
And for a second, just a second, I almost softened. Almost took it back, almost made it easier for her like I always did. But I couldn't, not this time.
So instead, I glanced at her one last time, something unreadable settling over my expression.
"Don't worry," I said, my voice light again, but hollow now. "You don't remember, right?" I gave a small shrug. "So it doesn't have to mean anything."
I reach for the door, my hand wrapping around the handle before I can second guess it, before I can turn around and say something softer, something that would only make this worse. I hear her shift behind me.
"Claire-"
Her voice catches just enough to make me pause, just for a second.
My grip tightens on the handle, my eyes closing briefly as something in my chest pulls hard in the opposite direction. For a moment, one dangerous and stupid moment, I almost turn back. Almost give in to it, to her, to whatever this thing is that I've been trying to ignore for far too long.
But I don't. Because I already know how this ends, I already know I'm too far gone.
I open the door before I can stop myself. "Get some water," I say instead, my voice flat, distant - unrecognizable even to me. "You'll feel better."
It's a meaningless thing to say, a deflection and a shield and we both knew it. I don't look at her again as I step out into the hallway. The door shuts behind me with a soft click that feels louder than it should, like something final snapping into place.
The hallway is too bright, too quiet, too normal, like nothing just happened.
I walk, not really paying attention to where I'm going, just putting distance between me and that door, between me and her. My steps are steady at first, controlled out of habit, but the further I get, the harder it is to keep that control in place.
Because it's not just the words.
It's the way she looked at me.
Like she needed to undo it. Like she needed to make it smaller, erase it, erase me from it entirely just so she could breathe again.
I let out a quiet, humorless breath, dragging a hand down my face as I press the elevator button. My reflection in the metal doors stares back at me like I'm composed enough.
It's almost convincing. Almost, because the second I blink, it cracks.
A tear slips free before I can stop it, warm and unwelcome as it trails down my cheek. I let out a soft, shaky laugh under my breath, more out of disbelief than anything else, quickly wiping it away with the heel of my hand like it didn't happen.
"Seriously?" I mutter to myself.
But it's not really a question, because I know exactly why it happened. I know exactly why this feels different.
It's her.
It's always been her, and that's the problem.
Because this isn't just another night. Not just another mistake I can brush off and walk away from like it never mattered.
I felt it... every second of it, and worse, I know she did too.
I know the way she held onto me wasn't nothing.
I know the way she said my name wasn't something you forget overnight.
But she's going to try anyway, and the worst part is, I can't even blame her for it.
Because she's not running from me.
She's running from what it means.