In The Between

✧･Chapter 26 Something We Lost

I don't let go. I should, I know I should.

The second the worst of it passes, the sobs easing into shaky breaths, the tight, crushing ache in my chest loosening just enough to think... I should step back. Wipe my face. Put space between us. Pretend I didn't just completely fall apart in her arms like I have no control over myself.

But I don't.

My hands are still twisted in the fabric at her back, fingers curled tight like if I loosen them even a little, she'll disappear again.

My face is still pressed into the side of her neck, and I can feel the damp warmth of my own tears against her skin, which only makes the embarrassment burn hotter.

God, this is so embarrassing.

I swallow hard, my breath hitching again as I try to steady it, but it comes out uneven anyway.

This isn't me. I don't do this, I don't cry like this, not in front of people, not ever, and definitely not in front of her.

But she's still holding me, like it's nothing and everything all at once.

Her hand is still at the back of my head, fingers buried lightly in my hair, not gripping, not forcing, just there.

Her other arm is wrapped around me, firm enough that I can feel it, that I can lean into it, but not so tight that it feels like I'm being trapped.

Like she's letting me choose this.

I drag in a slow breath, trying to pull myself together, and finally force my head to tilt back just enough to put a little space between us.

It's a mistake.

The second I do, the cool air hits my face, and I'm suddenly very aware of everything - how close we are, how I'm still half pressed against her, how my hands haven't moved, how her arms haven't either.

And her eyes, they're already on me. Soft in a way I don't think I've ever seen before. Not guarded, not distant, not careful, just there. Watching me like I'm something fragile, like I might break again if she looks away.

My stomach twists and I drop my gaze immediately, heat flooding my face as I let out a quiet, shaky breath.

"Don't," I mumble, my voice rough, barely holding together. I don't even know what I mean at first. Don't look at me, don't say anything, don't acknowledge this - but it all feels too big, too exposed.

Her hand shifts slightly in my hair, not pulling me back in, just brushing lightly, like she's smoothing something down that isn't there.

"I'm not doing anything," Mae says softly.

I huff out something that's almost a laugh, but it breaks halfway through, and I shake my head, tightening my grip on her again without meaning to.

"You're-" I stop, pressing my lips together. My voice is still unsteady, still giving me away. "You're looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

I hesitate, then shake my head again, a little sharper this time. "Like I just-" I cut myself off, my throat tightening. Like I just shattered in front of you. Like you're seeing something no one else does.

I don't finish it, because I can't. There's a small pause, and for a second, I think she's going to push. Ask. Try to make me say it.

Instead, her thumb brushes lightly along the side of my arm, slow, absent, like she doesn't even realize she's doing it.

"I've seen you cry before," she says quietly.

I let out a short, incredulous breath, finally glancing back up at her. "No, you haven't."

Her expression doesn't change. "Yeah," she says, just as soft. "I have."

I search her face, trying to figure out if she's just saying that to make me feel better, to ease whatever this is, but she doesn't look unsure. She doesn't look like she's guessing.

And somehow, that makes my chest ache worse.

"Not like that," I mutter, my voice dropping again. My grip loosens just slightly, but I don't pull away. I don't think I can yet. "Not-" I shake my head, looking away again. "Not where you can... feel it."

The words hang there, heavier than I meant them to. For a second, neither of us says anything.

I can still feel her hands on me. Still feel the warmth of her, the steadiness of her breathing, the way she hasn't tried to move me, hasn't tried to step back or create distance even though she should.

I shift, just slightly, my forehead brushing against her collarbone again as I let out a slow breath. It's quieter this time. Less sharp. But I don't let go.

"...this is embarrassing," I admit under my breath.

There's a faint pause.

"I don't think so."

I let out a weak, humorless huff. "That's because it's not happening to you."

Her hand stills for a second at that, and I almost regret it, but then her fingers move again, gentler this time, tracing a slow, grounding line along my arm.

"Claire," she says, and there's something in the way she says my name that makes my chest tighten all over again, "you don't have to-"

"I know," I cut in quickly, a little too fast. My fingers tighten again where they're still holding onto her. "I know, I just-"

I stop, because I don't even know how to finish that. I just don't want to move. I don't want this to stop. I don't want to step back and remember everything that's still broken between us.

So instead, I do the only thing I can right now.

I shift closer.

It's small, barely anything, but enough that I can feel her react, just slightly, like she wasn't expecting me to move toward her instead of away.

My face presses more firmly against her shoulder this time, my grip tightening again, less desperate now, but still there.

"Just... give me a second," I murmur, my voice quieter now, steadier, but still fragile at the edges and her arms tighten around me immediately, like the words alone were enough to make her hold on a little closer.

"I've got you," Mae says softly, her voice low against my ear. "Take all the time you need. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Something in my chest twists at that.

I let out a slow breath, my face pressing deeper into the crook of her neck without thinking, like I'm trying to hide there. Her hands slide up, one settling at the back of my neck, the other anchoring me against her, holding me there like she doesn't want to be anywhere else.

And the longer we stand like that, the louder everything in my head gets.

"I can hear you thinking," Mae murmurs after a moment, almost gently.

I groan under my breath, shaking my head against her. "That's not fair."

"It kind of is," she replies softly, a faint warmth in her voice. "You always get quiet like this when you're spiraling. Your shoulders tense, your breathing changes and you start overthinking everything before you even say it out loud."

I huff a quiet breath, but she's not wrong.

"What the hell are we doing, Mae?" I ask finally, my voice barely above a whisper, so quiet I'm not even sure it makes it all the way to her.

But she hears me, I can feel it in the way her body stills slightly, in the way her grip shifts.

"I don't know," she admits after a second, just as soft.

"I didn't come here with some plan or some perfect version of how this was supposed to go.

I just... I couldn't keep pretending anymore.

Not after that night. I needed to tell you the truth - all of it.

Even if you slammed the door in my face. "

Her fingers press a little more firmly at the back of my neck.

"I knew I might lose you anyway," she continues, her voice rougher now. "But I think I already have. And I couldn't just... let that be the last thing between us."

I let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You didn't plan this? Mae, you showed up at my event looking like that and you're telling me that wasn't intentional?"

Her lips twitch, just slightly.

"The dress was planned," she admits under her breath, and there's a faint, almost sheepish smile there now. "I'm not going to lie about that."

Her eyes flicker over my face, softer now. "I just didn't think I'd get this far," she adds quietly. "I didn't think you'd let me."

That hits harder than it should. I hold her gaze for a second longer than I mean to before the question slips out, quieter this time.

"Mae, what changed?" I whisper, my eyes searching hers, like maybe I'll find the answer written there before she even says it.

I watch her take in a slow, steady breath, like she's bracing herself for it.

"Everything," she says quietly. Her gaze drifts past me for a second before finding its way back. "And it wasn't because of the sex. Or you leaving that morning."

Her jaw tightens slightly.

"You didn't go away. You were still there...

in everything. In my work, in my head, in every quiet moment I couldn't distract myself out of.

" She lets out a small, shaky breath. "I kept thinking if I just did the right thing, the safe thing, it would stop.

That I'd stop feeling like I was constantly missing something. "

Her eyes flicker between mine, searching.

"I'm tired, Claire," she admits, her voice beginning to crack.

"I'm tired of being scared all the time.

Tired of hurting you because I won't just be honest. Tired of choosing what's easy over what's real.

" She swallows hard. "And yeah, I know I'm probably too late.

I know I fucked this up in every way I possibly could. "

Her voice breaks a little more, but she doesn't stop.

"I know I hurt you. I know I don't deserve to stand here and ask for anything from you, not your time, not your forgiveness, not... this." Her hand shifts slightly against me, like she's grounding herself in the fact that I'm still here. "But I couldn't keep pretending I didn't want you-"

She cuts herself off, exhaling shakily.

"All I want is you, Claire," she says finally, the words quieter but heavier. "I don't care how messy it is. I don't care how hard it gets or how much we have to work through. I just want you. I want to be with you. I want the good parts, the bad parts, in the between parts. All of it. With you."

A tear slips down her cheek.

"I should've said it a long time ago," she adds, almost like a confession. "I was just too afraid of what it would cost me. And I didn't realize until it was almost gone that losing you was the thing I should've been afraid of."

My hand moves before I can stop it, brushing the tear from her skin.

She closes her eyes at the touch, her face tilting into my palm like it's something she's been holding back from for years.

It all hits me square in the chest, and I know I should take a step back, tell her to leave, to give me time to think it all over. But I can't. Not when she's standing right in front of me, confessing everything I thought could never be true.

And the worst part? No matter what, no matter how much she hurts me, how much she pushes me away and drives me completely insane, I will always let her in. I will always say yes. I will always go back to her, no matter what.

"I'm still so mad at you." I whisper, and I can see Mae swallowing hard, nodding her head, still not opening her eyes.

"Look at me, Mae." I whisper, letting my hand drop to under her chin, lifting her head up to make her look at me, and she does.

"You're it for me." I say simply, clenching my jaw.

Her eyes search mine desperately, like she's trying to find something, like an out, an answer, anything, and when she doesn't, they start to break.

"Why does it feel like I've lost you then?" she whispers. It's so quiet it almost doesn't exist and my chest tightens.

"Because I'm still mad at you," I breathe. "I'm still hurt, and I don't know what to do with all of it. I don't know how to trust... this."

I step back just slightly, like I need space just to say it out loud. "Mae, have you actually thought all of this through?"

She looks up at me, and I can see the tears sitting heavy in her eyes now, threatening.

"Yes," she whispers.

"As much as I want this, all of this... you," I start, finally glancing away from her. "I can't be the reason why you lose your family." I whisper, not being able to stop the small crack in my voice and I can hear her inhale, like my words had hit her somewhere deep.

The words barely leave me before something in her breaks.

"You're not," she says quickly, but it's wrong. I can hear it.

My eyes snap back to hers. "Mae-"

"I already lost them."

Everything in me stills. "What?" I breathe.

Her face crumples, and this time she doesn't catch it. "I told them," she chokes out. "I told them about you. About how I feel, about- about us, and..."

Her voice fractures, her hand coming up to press hard against her chest like she can keep herself together.

"My dad," she swallows hard. "He's trying. He said he just wants me to be happy, but he doesn't understand it. I saw it, Claire. I saw him trying not to lose me."

My chest aches.

"And my mom..." her voice snaps completely, tears spilling freely now. "She was so angry."

Mae lets out a broken, breathless laugh that sounds nothing like her.

"She kept saying this isn't who I am. That this isn't how she raised me. That I'm throwing everything away for something that isn't real."

Her shoulders start shaking.

"I wasn't raised like that," she says quickly, desperately, her eyes locking onto mine like she needs me to believe this. "I wasn't raised with hate. They loved me. My whole life, they loved me so much, and that's what I was so scared of losing."

My throat burns.

"And I lost them anyway," she whispers.

The words land heavy and final.

"I lost them anyway, and I still-" her voice breaks again, completely unraveling now. "I still came here."

My breath catches.

"Because I'm not walking away from you again," she says, shaking her head hard, like she needs me to understand this part. "I did that before, many times, and I can't... Claire, I can't do that again."

Her voice is wrecked now, raw and shaking and real.

"It's not just now," she continues, stepping closer without even realizing it. "It's not just this moment. It's years, Claire. Years."

My heart stutters painfully in my chest.

"Years of wondering what it would feel like to wake up next to you," she says, her voice trembling with every word. "Years of picturing making you that weird coffee you like... the one that tastes like sugar and regret."

A broken laugh escapes her, wet with tears.

"Years of painting you from memory because I didn't let myself have the real thing," she chokes. "Years of imagining what it would be like to come home to you, to build something with you, to grow old with you."

Her voice cracks completely.

"You don't just get over that," she whispers. "You don't just wake up one day and stop loving someone like that."

Tears blur my vision.

"And I tried," she adds, quieter now, like it's something she hates admitting. "God, I tried so hard to be who they wanted me to be. I tried to want the right things, the easy things, the things that wouldn't cost me everything."

She shakes her head, her expression breaking all over again.

"But it was always you."

The words hit me like a blow.

"It's always been you," she says again, softer, more certain despite how wrecked she is. "And I'm done pretending that it's not."

Silence stretches between us, thick and unbearable.

"I already lost them," she whispers again, her voice barely holding together now. "I can't lose you too."

Something inside me caves in. Because all I can think - through the hurt, through the anger, through everything she put me through, is that she chose me. She actually chose me, and I hate how much that matters.

"Mae..." My voice breaks as I step forward without thinking, my hands hovering before finally landing on her arms.

She looks at me like she's bracing for me to pull away, like she expects it. And that somehow, that hurts more than anything she's said.

My grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground her. "I'm still mad at you," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I'm still so mad at you, Mae."

She nods immediately, tears spilling over, like she'll take anything I give her, like she deserves it.

"I know," she breathes.

My jaw clenches, my vision blurring.

"You don't get to just show up and say all of this and expect it to fix everything," I continue, my voice cracking under the weight of it. "You don't get to break me and then stand here and-"

My words fall apart, because she's crying. Not quietly, not holding it in. She's falling apart right in front of me and I hate how fast it tears through me.

"I'm not trying to fix it," she chokes out. "I know I can't. I just - I couldn't not tell you. Not after everything. Not after losing them, I couldn't lose you too without at least trying."

Her hands lift like she wants to touch me, but she stops herself halfway, like she doesn't think she's allowed and that breaks something in my chest.

"Hey..." I whisper, softer now, my hands sliding from her arms up to her face before I can stop myself and she freezes under my touch.

Like she didn't expect it, like she thought I wouldn't.

"You don't..." My voice shakes. "You don't get to look at me like that."

"Like what?" she asks, her voice barely there.

"Like I'm about to disappear," I breathe.

Her face crumples all over again.

And I can't fucking stand it.

My thumbs move before I can think, brushing under her eyes, catching tears that won't stop coming. She leans into it without meaning to, like her body remembers me before her mind can stop it.

That almost ruins me.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but it comes out uneven, like I don't even fully trust it myself.

Her breath stutters, shaky and broken, and her hands hover again, closer this time, like she's fighting herself less, but still not quite letting herself have me.

Like she's waiting, like she thinks I might still pull away.

All I know is that she's right here, falling apart, and every instinct in me is screaming to fix it, even when I'm still hurting too.

My hands slide more firmly against her face, holding her there, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes are red, glassy, wrecked.

All because of me. All for me. Something in my chest twists so hard it almost feels like it snaps.

"Mae..." I whisper and her name comes out softer this time, barely there. She exhales shakily, her forehead almost dropping forward like she can't hold herself up anymore.

So I close the distance for her and my forehead presses against hers, grounding her, grounding me. For a second, neither of us moves.

Just breathing. Just trying to exist in the same space without breaking it.

Her hands finally find me, not confident or steady. They clutch at my dress like she needs something solid to hold onto, like she's afraid I'll disappear if she doesn't.

And I let her.

God, I let her.

My fingers slide into her hair, holding her there, not tight - just enough to say I'm not going anywhere, not right now.

Her breath keeps catching, uneven, like she's trying to calm down but can't quite get there.

And I feel it, every single piece of it.

The loss, the fear. The way she chose me anyway.

It settles heavy in my chest, mixing with everything else until I can't separate it anymore.

Anger. Love. Hurt. Want. All tangled together.

"Hey," I murmur again, softer, more instinct than anything.

She shakes her head slightly, like she can't even form words anymore, so I don't ask for them.

I just stay, and my thumb drags slowly along her cheek again, catching another tear, and this time she leans into it fully, her eyes slipping shut.

And that's it. That's the moment something in me gives.

Not forgiveness, not yet. But something close to it. Something that looks a lot like letting her in anyway.

My grip tightens slightly in her hair, and before I can stop myself, I pull her into me.

And I kiss her.

It's not soft. It's not careful. It's everything at once.

All the frustration, all the hurt, all the love I never stopped feeling, it crashes into her like I don't know how else to say it.

She gasps against my mouth, her hands gripping me harder, like she was waiting for this, like she needed it just as much as I did.

There's nothing controlled about it.

It's messy with tears still on our skin, breaths uneven, mouths moving like we're trying to make up for something we lost.

Or something we never got to have.