That's Not Us

by aidsaf

Summary:

Having been together for four years, Ben suddenly cheats and this leaves Rey broken. Trying to move on and get over it is proven to be more difficult than expected.

Notes:

Okayyyyy, hi again. New year, new story, new angst. I loved Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story, and I just couldn't help myself. Sooo, here's some heavy angst. Have fun! And let me know what you think. xx

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Rey

I fell in love with him two seconds after I’d met him. It was almost like he was surrounded by blinking arrows, screaming ’It’s him! Look, it’s him!”. He had been sitting in the same spot, at the end of our regular booth, giving me that shy smile that he still occasionally gives me. That hesitant small smile that makes him look impossibly innocent and vulnerable. It always makes me a bit uneasy since it gives the false impression that I'm the one in power over him, when we both in fact know that isn't the case. Ben always gets what he wants, no matter the price. Even if it hurts someone else in the process of getting what he desires at the moment, he’s unable to acknowledge his role in it all. I used to admire him for that, his ability to go after what he wants, since I, myself, would always be too insecure, too unsure or too frightened to do so. However, as time went by I grew to hate that about him. I hate that he’s the type to beg for forgiveness instead of asking for permission. I hate that he’s selfish, without even knowing it himself. I hate that I always expect more, but that he continuously proves me wrong.

Being the one that gets hurt in the process does that to you. 

I catch myself looking at him from across the room as I’m ordering for both of us. Beer for me, scotch for him. He used to take whatever I had. He used to want what I wanted. Or maybe we used to want the same things. But lately his assumptions makes it difficult for me to look at him. His”Rey agrees, don’t you?” or ”We want the same thing” makes me nauseous. In his defence, there was a time that I probably did want the same things as he did, but somewhere along the way something changed. Maybe he changed. Or I did. Or maybe that was always the issue with us. He could never see me as me - an individual separate from him who had separate thoughts, desires and dreams. It came to a point where I existed just for him. And that used to be fine with me, it really was, until I realised that it wasn’t the same way around. He didn’t exist just for me, he never even took me into consideration. He saw me as a part of himself, but he never saw himself as a part of me. So looking at him, allowing myself to really see, I become not only aware of him being an entity separate from myself, but I also realise that he no longer belongs to me either. I’m not sure that he ever did, and that’s what breaks my heart. I have always belonged to him, ever since that night four years ago. I think I always will. So maybe he’s right to not see me as something separate from him, because I can’t think of a life without him in it either.  

I could tell that Ben was in the middle of a conversation that he was completely engrossed in. There’s something in the way Ben moves when he’s talking that gives him away, that makes you immediately notice if he’s interested or not. When he is, there’s no one better to talk to. When he’s not, he puts up a wall that is impossible to break through. I guess I’m on the opposite side of that wall these days. We hadn’t said anything on our way to the bar, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. We haven’t talked to each other for quite a while now. I don’t know when the yelling had shifted to silence, but now that it has I miss it. At least the yelling was filled with some type of emotion, even if it more often than not would be anger or hate. Silence, or empty words at best, have become our only form of communication. There’s a special kind of loss when acting like strangers with someone whom you have shared so much with. A suffocating feeling of loss. You’re basically mourning someone that is alive, or more correctly, you’re mourning that something you shared together. Because in reality, it’s that special something that is gone, not the person in question. But in some ways I’m also mourning him, the person he used to be with me and the interactions we used to have. I’m mourning the love we shared. So seeing that he was actually talking, I couldn’t help to feel jealous of Finn that was on the receiving end of his undivided attention. Which in itself is silly, I’m very well aware of that. 

Sometimes I wonder why I’m still in this relationship, why I even bother or why he even bothers. We both know that we’re not alright, we’re not fine, we’re not even close to okay. We haven’t been for a while. Even before he did what he did, although that was the final straw. For both of us. Still, I don’t know why I’m hanging on to something that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Ben had asked me as well, several times. Finn had too. He had tried to explain that people go through this all the time, that it’s nothing out of the ordinary, that maybe it would be healthy to just let go. But the thing is, that we weren’t supposed to be those kind of people. It was Ben and Rey, it was always supposed to be Ben and Rey. Or so I thought. 

Sometimes I wish that he would make it easy for me and be the one who leaves. 

As soon as the bartender hands me my card back, I make my way back to the group with the drinks in my hands. Ben looks up as I approach the table and I hand him his scotch, careful not to let my fingers touch his. 

”Thanks,” he mumbles. 

I just nod in response and walk over to my seat beside him.

”I was just congratulating Ben on his big promotion. I mean, I wouldn’t want to change what I do to what you do, though I wouldn’t say no to that pay check. But still, congrats man. It sounds incredibly boring, but I’m happy for you,” Poe rambles.

Oh, okay. A promotion.

”I had no idea. Congratulations, Ben. I guess all those hours at the office finally paid off.” 

Ben tenses at my words and I know that he’s hurt by them, because he knows what I mean with them. I don’t make any effort to comfort him or even bother giving him a single look to see if he’s okay, because in all honesty I don’t want him to be. All I can think of is that I want him to hurt as much as I have. I want him to feel what I feel. I want him to reach the point where he’s disgusted by me, as much as I’m disgusted by him. It’s his fault that I can’t look at him without seeing her face, it’s his fault that I can’t manage to not feel like I’m about to throw up by his smell. Even his fucking smell. The smell of pine, the musky undertone, the too-expensive shampoo. The smell of home. He managed to destroy that as well for me, because whenever I step into our apartment or get too close to him I get hit by that smell like a fucking wall. Except now it also reminds me of that overly sweet and syrupy fragrance that lingered in his shirt, hair and skin. It now lingers in our home, us, everything. 

I try to force a smile, but I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I’m not necessarily happy that he got promoted, or unhappy for that matter either. But I would’ve liked to know. I bet that she knows.

I don’t know when or how we got to this point where we don’t tell each other these things. At this point we’re basically strangers sharing an apartment, a bed - everything besides a life it seems like. I reach out for my jacket to dig after my lip balm and it almost falls out of my shaking hand as I try to apply some on my chapped lips. 

I just want to go home, wherever that might be. I want to hate him less, but most of all I really want to love him less. Because that’s what the root of the problem is, that’s why I’m an open wound. 

 

___________________________

 

After a couple of hours we get home. I step out of my shoes and go straight to the bathroom to take my makeup off and at the corner of my eye I can see that Ben retreats to the bedroom. When I’ve properly washed my face and brushed my teeth, I go to the bedroom and slip under the covers. I lay on my side, with my back faced to his. He’s sitting on his side of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. 

”A promotion, huh? Is she still working with you?” 

He takes a sharp breath, the bed shifts as he turns around. 

”Rey, I —” I instinctively swat away his hand that reached out to my arm, that barely touched my skin. I move closer to the wall, further away from him.

”Don’t touch me,” I hear myself hiss. 

He turns around and takes a defeated sigh. We’re not getting anywhere, he knows this. That’s why he’s silent. He knows arguing is pointless. 

I just wish that he would say something. Something that would make it all okay. Something that would solve everything. I don’t know what that might be, and I’m not sure if it’s even possible. 

Ben doesn’t say anything, he just takes his pillow and quietly walks away to sleep on the couch. That too, isn’t something out of the ordinary. I don’t say anything either, not more than what hasn’t already been said.

I close my eyes and try to think of the night I met him. It’s still one of my favourite memories. He had shorter hair back then, so short that you could see his big ears poking out. His eyes had been incredibly questioning, and a bit confused. They were kind though, but nonetheless inquisitive, as they observed me thoroughly. Before I could reach out to shake his hand to introduce myself, his unsure and shy smile transformed into the biggest and loveliest smile I had ever seen. Those kind of smiles that etches themselves into your memory and then refuses to fade away. Ben later told me that meeting me was like finding something you didn’t know you were in desperate need of. For me, it was a bit different. Meeting him was like being reunited with a part of myself I didn’t know was missing. 

Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Rey

Notes:

Thank you so much for all of the comments!! They make me tear up, you're all so nice to me. So, here's a new chapter - let me know what you think of it! There might be some typos, so bear with me, I'll correct it later!!

”I think it’s time for you to talk to him.” 

I quickly snap back to reality upon hearing Finn’s voice. I’d been staring at the couple across from us in the corner, wondering if they were on their first date or if it was their second one. I would put my money on it being their first one based on how much the guy was turning and twisting in his seat. On another thought, it could very well be their second one. The girl was confident enough to repeatedly touch his hand while she was talking. Hm. I’m not that sure. 

We’re sitting in a small café close to the radio station where Finn works, called the Artisan Roast. It’s one of those small pretentious coffee shops where influencers and hipsters love to spend majority of their lives in, taking endless amount of pictures in front of the world map that is covering one of their walls. I don’t know why I’m looking down my nose at these people when I, in all honesty, love spending my time in these kind of cafés too. I don’t really care if they have good coffee or not, not when it’s the feeling I’m looking for. A feeling of life happening around me without needing to participate in it. When I was younger I would come to these kinds of cafés by myself after school, order one overpriced coffee, which was the only thing I could afford back then. I would then sit there for hours, just looking at people and listen to conversations about their lives, imagining myself also having a life worth speaking of. Or someone to speak to. I would pretend to study or read so they wouldn’t notice me eavesdropping. I haven’t been in a café for a while now. Ben hates them. I asked him why once, and he answered that it was because he couldn’t hear me properly. But that was in the beginning of our relationship. I think it’s because of the coffee. He’s a coffee snob and he’s not that fond of sweets. With that in mind, I can imagine why café’s wouldn’t be that appealing to him.

”Hm?” 

”Have you been listening to what I’ve been saying these past five minutes?” 

I clear my throat, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

”No, I’m sorry. What did you say?” 

”I said that I think it’s time for you and Ben to talk about what’s going on. To do something about it,” Finn says slowly. 

”Why?” 

”Didn’t you notice how tense the atmosphere was last week? Oh my god, I literally thought I would die of discomfort.” He adds, ”Didn’t you notice how Poe continued to ramble on about nothing to fill out the awkward silence?” 

”Was it really that bad? I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” I shrug. 

”Shit, I can’t live like this. And I’m not, but you are!” He whispers harshly. 

”Yeah yeah, calm down!” I try to say as dismissively as I can. I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not with Finn.

”In my defence, I never thought this was a good idea. That you two were good for each other.” 

”Don’t say that. You don’t understand.” 

He never did understand what I saw in Ben. How I immediately knew that I couldn’t live without him the first time I talked to him. How he was the light of my life or how much he actually saved me. 

”I just—. I think I imagined you ending up with someone… nicer,” he says,  "I mean,” he adds, ”he’s nice - don’t get me wrong. But he’s a bit… cold?” 

”That’s not true.” 

He lifts his hands in surrender and sighs. 

”All I’m saying is that I think that you could do better.” 

I want to tell him that he’s gotten it completely wrong, that he has to be blind if he doesn’t see that someone like Ben is not someone you just stumble upon haphazardly. I want to tell him that Ben is so much more. I want to tell him that Ben isn’t cold - he’s actually the complete opposite, but circumstances forced him to act so. And I want to tell him that it’s not me that could do better, it’s Ben. Sometimes I’m afraid that it was because of me not being enough that led him to do it. What scares me even more is him realising it and despising me for it. For spending his time. 

I take a deep breath and try to ignore what Finn just said.

”Do you think that the couple behind you are on their first or second date?” I say, in an attempt to change the topic.

Finn slowly turns around to look at them.

”First,” he says and pauses, ”No, I want to change my answer,” he adds after a short while, ”It’s the second. He’s giving her the eyes. They could basically be heart-shaped, no one would notice any difference.” He points at his eyes while explaining.

”Hm. Do you think she knows?” 

He squints and thinks for a while before answering.

”I don’t know. Sometimes you’re blind to the love you get. It can be hard to accept love if you don’t believe that you’re worthy of it.”

Finn glances back at them, and I follow his gaze to try to see what he's seeing. I’m not sure if I’m able to. 

”Do you love me?” 

He breaks into a grin and shakes his head in response.

”Sometimes?” I ask again, smiling widely.

”Often.” 

”Not always?”

”That’s what often means, no?” 

I shake my head at him, feigning hurt. No matter what happens I know that I will always have Finn by my side. He’s not only the closest friend that I have, but also the one I’ve known for the longest, which is a safety net many take for granted. Time. I know that if I someday would forget who I am, I could always turn to Finn and ask him. That’s not something I take lightly, since it’s not something everyone has. I'm aware of that. Ben once told me that without me there’s no proof that he ever existed. I catch myself thinking about that quite often ever since.

”Should we go?” 

I nod and stand up to put on my coat. We quickly thank the waitress as we head out the door. 

 

___________________________

 

As we get closer to the building where Finn works, a young man with short and wavy blonde hair yells his name. Finn waves back at him as he starts running towards us. 

”Hey man, are you on your break?” The blonde stranger says a bit breathlessly. 

”No sorry, I was just getting back to work.”

”Oh, okay,” he says, looking disappointed. 

”Let’s grab a beer after work soon though? You should join us on Friday!” Finn looks at me as if he’s asking me for permission. I nod approvingly. 

”Yeah, I would like that!” 

”Oh Rey, this is Sebastian. He’s our new DJ at the station. New in town and all that,”  Finn grins as he pats Sebastian’s back. 

”Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Rey.” 

He reaches out his hand to shake mine. 

”Nice to meet you too Rey,” he smiles. He’s one of those who smiles with teeth, I notice. They’re really white and straight, a pair of nice-looking teeth, so I don’t blame him. 

”Okay, I need to get back to work. Talk to you later,” Finn says and hugs me quickly before walking into the building. 

”I need to get going too, but I guess I’ll see you this Friday then?” I say as I fiddle with my earphones I just dug out from my pocket. 

”Yes, see you then!” 

I smile politely as I turn to walk back home. I wrap my scarf tighter around my neck and put my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket to keep them from getting numb from the cold. It’s getting chillier, even though the worst part of winter should’ve been over by now. Maybe it means that we’ll get a warm summer. My mom would always say that a cold winter brings a warm summer. Not so sure about the credibility of that statement, but one could always hope. 

 

___________________________

 

When I open the door I notice that Ben’s shoes are in the hallway and I can hear that the speaker is on, with someone sounding a lot like him humming the lyrics to the song in the background. It’s really early for him to be home at this hour, he usually gets home later. I quietly take my shoes off and then carefully go down the hallway to see that he’s standing in the kitchen, cooking and singing. I haven’t heard him sing in a long time, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss it. He has a wonderful voice, even though he’s too self-conscious to use it. The secret is to catch him when he’s unaware of being watched, then maybe - just maybe - you’re lucky enough to hear him sing. I used to beg him to continue when he caught me listening without permission, but he would just shake his head and blush so furiously that even the tips of his ears would redden. 

He only sings when he’s happy. So instinctively, I wonder what’s gotten him in such a good mood. I can’t help to feel a bit irritated, which I know is completely irrational. But the thing is, I’m not happy. I can’t remember the last time I laughed, which is really unusual for me since I’m one of those obnoxious people that uses laughter as a response to everything. When I was younger I was convinced that was the reason why people liked being around me, since I would laugh at whatever they had to say, amusing or not. They would as a result constantly feel validated. People would either assume that I was an overly positive and happy person, or that they themselves were comedic geniuses. In the end, it's just my excessive sense of social responsibility that's the reason behind it. Laughter is a good way to make people feel at ease while at the same time diverting their attention from you. 

Ben saw through it though. He saw through it all. He didn’t divert his attention from me, just the opposite. He got worried when my hollow laugh would fill the room to lighten up the mood after having shared something personal with him. His unrelenting gaze would make me nervous, since it made me feel exposed. Exposed to what I really am. A fraud. Like a box with beautiful pattern on its exterior, but as you get closer to it you’ll notice that it’s empty. 

I slam open the door of the fridge, which makes him freeze and immediately stop singing. The abrupt silence makes the slight buzzing of the fridge echo through the room. 

”Oh, I didn’t hear you come home.”

”I just came in a second ago,” I pause. ”You’re back early.”

He hesitates. ”Umm, yeah. I hope that’s okay? With the new position I asked to work more from home.” 

”It’s your apartment, you can do as you choose.” 

”It’s yours too,” he says quietly. 

It was his to begin with, and I can't help to regret that we didn’t find a new place together when we decided that living together would be a good idea. Because I know at the end of the day, if something would happen, it’s his apartment and not mine. Not ours. There might come a day where he wakes up and decides that he’s had enough, which will ultimately leave me with nothing. There will be no rings to give back, no apartment filled with stuff to argue about, no kids to tie us together for all eternity. And it all feels a bit unworthy, since we shared so many other things. Things that can’t be touched or seen again, and that makes me wonder if I someday will wake up and question if it happened at all. If there was a time were we weren’t just Rey or Ben, but an ’us’, a ’we’. 

I take a deep breath and slowly close the fridge, without having taken anything out, to go to lean on the door frame. I stare at his back that is turned from me, still cooking. 

”Finn wants us all to grab a beer on Friday,” I say. 

”Yeah, Poe told me. Are you going?” 

”Yes. You?” 

”Yes,” he says quickly. He hesitates before adding, ”Actually, I wanted to tell you something… I have a deadline coming up this week so I might be coming home a bit later the rest of the week.” 

I feel my heartbeat picking up and my stomach sinking. Ben turns around when he notices me going quiet. Maybe I’ve even stopped breathing. Would he notice? Would he care? Would I? I try to rearrange my face to something I hope is nonchalant and casual looking. 

”Why are you telling me this?” 

He clears his throat and puts down his spatula. ”I just wanted you to know… I thought-. I just-.” He pauses. ”I’ll be home before dinner though. Every night.” 

He’s looking at me with pleading eyes. Exhausted eyes that are begging me to let this one go, to believe him.

”I don’t care. It’s your life. Do what you want.” I feel the self-hatred run through my veins like poison as the petty words escape my mouth. I turn away and walk out from the kitchen, feeling his eyes following every move. 

I’m so tired, I want to tell him. So tired. I want everything to be as it used to. I miss his kisses, I miss making him smile, I miss his touch. I want to love him as I used to. I don’t want to make him miserable, I don’t want to rob the happiness from him. I want to be able to forgive him, but there’s something stopping me. I know that he’s trying, I can see it but I can’t manage to feel it. I can’t feel anything, anything besides anger. I don’t recognise myself anymore. I can literally feel my personality slipping away from me. I’m transforming into something that is devoid of personality. Is that possible? What does that leave me with? An empty shell filled with hatred and anger? Maybe it’s growing from within. Maybe I’ve always been like this. Maybe he was the one that gave me personality and without him I’m regressing. Regressing to my former self, a truer version of myself. A version no one can love, not even I. 

I’m tired. So tired. 

Notes:

Here's some other stories of mine:

Black Beauty

To Belong and Longing to Be

Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Ben

Notes:

I don't have an excuse for myself. It's been a minute, I'm sorry. But now I'm back and I'll try to update more frequently. I want to give huge thanks to Heartshaped_Box for editing this and being the best beta!!! I've had a tough time writing these last couple of months, and I can't emphasise how grateful I am for her help and input.

This is an angsty chapter, and it will be angsty for a while. But hang in there, there's a HEA tag for a reason.

”I’m on my way. The traffic is insane, but I think I’ll be home in ten. Have you eaten? I could grab some dinner for us on the way.”

I look down at my phone to check the time. It’s not that late. I tried to get off work earlier today, even though I have that deadline hanging over my head. Actually, I’ve been trying to work less and spend as much time at home as possible in hopes of catching Rey’s attention. Or really just spend some time with her. She’s rarely home though, I can’t remember the last time we had dinner together. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a proper meal.

She goes quiet for a second, and if it weren’t for the music in the background I would’ve thought that she’d hung up on me.

”I’m not home. I’m actually at the bar right now.”

I really shouldn’t get upset or disappointed, I don’t think I have the right to. However, that’s easier said than done. Lately it feels like she’s going out of her way to avoid me, even if we’re in the same room, so I figured it was best for me to just keep quiet.

”I didn’t think you’d get off work this early,” she says weakly when I don’t answer immediately.

”It’s okay. I’ll just drop off my things at home and then come join you.”

”Sounds good. See you soon.”

”See you. Bye.”

I wait for the signal that indicates that she’s ended the call before taking a deep breath. I reach towards the compartment holder on my right to grab a pack of cigarettes I bought yesterday and I fumble a bit with the lighter before managing to finally light the cigarette. The thing is, I’m not a smoker. I never smoke when I’m sober, but lately I’ve had this feeling of not being able to breathe properly. My anxiety overwhelms me. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, weighing me down. Ironically, smoking relieves some of that weight. Or maybe that’s another thing I’m telling myself.

 

___________________________

 

We end up in a smoke-filled bar, with music blasting from every corner of the room and blue neon lights dancing on every surface. It's not really a bar, but rather a dingy club. Nightclubs aren’t really my scene, never have been. Sweaty bodies moving on the crowded dance floor and loud bass thumping in my ears speed my heartbeat up to the point that I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s just isn’t something I’m that comfortable with. The worst part of it though, is the expectation of letting loose. My friends seem to love it and I wish I did as well. I think it would be good for me to let loose, to be more laid back, to enjoy life more than I currently am. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed life as much as they do, not even in my happiest moments.

My mother would agree. When I was younger she always said that I didn't act like a normal kid, that I didn’t enjoy or appreciate things the way other children did, as if there was a dark cloud above my head raining down on me - clouding my judgment, keeping me from being happy. I remember getting really upset every time she said that, since I didn’t want her to think that I was ungrateful. My mother didn’t seem to understand that my loneliness was the root of all problems. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that I was lonely. I felt unseen and unwanted, my insecurities made it hard for me to believe that I was worthy of anyone's time. My parents were barely home and when they were, the physical distance only transformed into an emotional distance. They were always busy working, but I don’t blame them for that. I never did. I understand - now just as much as then - that they had to work. I wish though that they had tried to understand me as well. Just a little bit.

But then I met Rey. When I first set my eyes on her, I instantly knew that nothing would ever be the same, and oh how I longed for change. I was desperate for it.

Rey was everything I wasn’t. She moved with grace, smiled without effort and didn't spend her life trying to grasp at every single opportunity life had to offer. She lived without fear of not doing or being enough. She was calm, confident and content. I, on the other hand, have always been a chaser. I keep looking for more, the constant greed and fear of missing out or lagging behind stuck deep in my bones. I’m never able to enjoy a moment for what it is, instead I demand perfection and end up disappointed when it’s unachievable.

But at that moment, when she looked at me with dimples in her cheeks, not seeming to have a single care in the world - I was convinced that she held a key to something. Something I was looking for. I thought that if this girl could like someone like me then maybe, maybe, everything would be alright. If there was someone in this world, who could make all my troubles magically disappear, it was her.

And they did. For a while. But I've learned that some things you can’t run away from without them eventually catching up, and when they do, they’ll mock you for ever believing that you could actually outrun them. In the beginning I was utterly convinced that her blinding light would dampen my imperfections, but all it did was illuminate them.

We would have ended up in this mess sooner or later. Me fucking up only sped up the process. It all happened so fast: one minute she was standing in front of my desk, the next she was kissing me. I didn’t stop her. If I had, maybe everything would have been different. One kiss could’ve been inconsequential. Instead, I pressed my lips against hers while her hands where fumbling with my zipper. It’s not that I’ve ever felt anything for Bazine, I don’t even think it had anything to do with her. Her touch felt nice and in the darkness, I could pretend that nothing wrong was happening. At one point I even imagined it being Rey, but the curve of her neck covered with an overly sweet scent and her skin that just wasn't as soft gave it away. Though it wasn’t until she moaned headily in my ear, that something in me snapped. Her hands became too heavy, her lips too hard and her smell too overwhelming. I felt sick and as the nausea threatened to take over, I gently pushed her away.

I told Rey what had happened the moment I got home, like a snake trying to shed its skin. The look on her face was completely blank, no sign of anticipated and well-deserved outrage, not a trace of the anger I was expecting. The only thing she did was ask me if I was leaving her for Bazine. I told her that of course I wasn't. Then I went on like most cheating assholes - telling her how much I regretted it, how disgusted I was with myself and that it didn’t mean anything. When I was done with the universal mantra of dickheads, I felt some kind of dissociation. I didn’t know how I got there in the first place, how Rey and I had got to this point. It felt like I was a stranger in my own relationship, a stranger in my own body, not really recognising who we’d become. I didn’t like what I was seeing, so I told her that she should leave me. She started crying then.

I feel helpless when she cries. The anger and disgust she feels towards me is something I can handle a lot better. I told her that I wouldn’t blame her if she decided to leave me. I told her that she’d probably be happier if she did. Rey had a way of  fitting in anywhere she was. People were naturally drawn to her, longing to bask in her warmth. Just as I was back then. I used to love that about her, but watching her talk with that new guy Finn had introduced earlier was giving me a bad taste in my mouth. He was leaning close to her, talking directly into her ear over the music and it made my blood boil with pure jealousy. Earlier, when he joined them, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. The same kiss I'd tried to give her upon greeting her, the kiss she had evaded. I tried to look away as I felt my face redden with embarrassment.

I feel out of place in these situations where people hit on her, and not because of the potential of her leaving me for them. It’s rather the overwhelming feeling of not being enough, the realization that she should have picked better and the risk of her finding out. These situations make everything so abundantly clear to everyone how absurd it is that she chose me, and it leaves me feeling ashamed and guilty. Guilty for making her believe that I’m deserving of her and ashamed as the absurdity of her choice repeatedly makes itself known.

Feeling like I’m on the brink of collapsing, I decide that I’ve had enough for tonight. I make my way towards Rey, who’s in the middle of a conversation.

”I think I’m heading home,” I say loudly over the music.

”Oh. Right now?” Something flashes beneath the stoic expression she schools her face into whenever she sees me nowadays, but it quickly disappears before I can investigate the sudden shift.

”Uh, yeah. You should stay though, I’ll see you back at home?”

Something I said makes her brows furrow in irritation, and her lips part to reply, but before any sound comes out she purses them into a thin line and nods in reply.

 

___________________________

 

I wake up when she gets back home, recognising her footsteps before she opens the door. This building has really thin walls, which makes it nearly impossible to not hear everything that is going on behind the door to our apartment. The bedroom is quite isolated in comparison to the other rooms, but since I’ve been sleeping on the couch my struggle with sleep has gotten worse.

I can tell that she’s drunk in the way that she fumbles with the lock, and the clumsy attempts of trying to be quiet makes it clearer that she’s not sober. As she tiptoes to the living room, making her way to me, I instantly close my eyes and try to gain control over my breathing – pretending to be asleep. She stops when she gets to the door and stands there for quite some time. Even though my eyes are closed, I still feel her gaze on me.

Maybe she wants to check on me, see if I was home as I told her I would be. She doesn’t trust me, I know that. I should ask her what she wants, why she’s staring at me, if she'll ever be able to forgive me. I should ask her if she misses me as much as I’m missing her. Maybe I could even ask her if she’d let me sleep in the same bed as her tonight.

Before I manage to gather the courage to ask her anything, she turns on her heel and quietly walks away.

It’s in these moments that I wish I could call my parents and ask them for advice. Sometimes I hear them speak in my dreams, but lately their voices have become more and more distorted and it gets increasingly harder to imagine them as the time passes. My father’s deep rumbling laughter and the lilt of my mother’s voice don’t sound quite right anymore. It feels like it was a lifetime ago that I saw them last. I lost them way before death made it final. Their faces were the first thing that gradually vanished from my memory. I cried the first time I realised that I could barely remember the face of my own mother. It started out with their contours blurring until they eventually transformed into faceless creatures with distorted voices. 

Notes:

Here's some other stories of mine:

Black Beauty

To Belong and Longing to Be

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Rey

Notes:

Hi hello, I think I need to begin with apologising. It's been a minute. I'm so sorry. I've been stuck and just generally really hated everything I've written and tried to write - which is why this might be a bit short. It is also unbetad (If you read this Heartshaped_Box, would you like to continue to correct my mistakes?), so I apologise in advance for any typos. I'm not super happy with this chapter, but I don't completely hate it - which is an improvement hehe. I hope you'll like it tho!

I also have to thank you guys for all of the kind comments, I'm sorry I haven't answered to all of them but trust me when I say that they're the ones that made me return to this story!! Sending you all of my love.

I would love to hate him, but it’s really difficult to do so when he looks like that. He still looks like an angel. He still looks like he’s mine. Even more so when he’s asleep, when he’s unable to control his face. Without any warning, his face suddenly goes from being a closed book to an open one, and his dark hair, which usually is neatly tamed, transforms into wild waves that frame his face like a halo. In those moments he can fool anyone with his vulnerable face, looking infinitely younger and brighter. I repeatedly catch myself thinking that he must be the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. When I met him I couldn’t understand what he saw in me and that installed a fear in me that his affection and love were only temporary. Because someone like him couldn’t ever love someone like me. But he kept on looking at me as I’d hung the moon, and eventually, his adoring looks convinced me that I might be good enough for him.

When he cried in front of me for the first time my heart nearly burst out of its cage. It was then I made a promise to myself to never let anyone hurt him again. It wasn’t a completely selfless decision either, because seeing him in that state was a kind of torture I’ve never experienced before. Seeing his beautiful and gentle features contorted in complete misery and his big frame shaking with suppressed sobs was a sight I thought would haunt me forever. But then his parents died, and I think with them a part of him died too. Now that - that was a sight nightmares are built on.

I think, after a while, I gave up on pleasing him. I instead became resentful. Looking at his too-big frame covering the too-small couch, it becomes even more obvious. But in some ways, he seems more comfortable in accepting my hatred, compared to the love I used to shower him with. And that doesn’t only make me uneasy, but also infinitely more sad and miserable, which only makes me treat him more cruelly to get a rise out of him. Or any reaction other than complete surrender. Because treating him badly only makes me hate myself more, but somehow I can’t seem to let it go or stop since it is the only interaction I’m able to allow myself.

 

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”Is this a joke?”

”What? I’m just grabbing coffee with a friend,” I say with a stern voice, refusing to yield an inch as his judgmental eyes observe me.

"Does he, this Sebastian guy, know that he’s just a friend?” Ben replies coldly.

Being so attuned to him, to every single movement of his, the slight change of his tone doesn’t go without notice. He always does this when he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how to put it in such a way that won’t later be held over his head. The switch to the voice that isn’t only dry and cold, but also holds an extra layer of distance, makes my skin crawl and always manages to provoke me to a point where the only outcome is destruction.

”What are you implying?”

”No, I’m just wondering if he knows that you have a boyfriend. I mean, that’s something you usually announce when someone asks you out for a date,” he spits out. 

His statement sends a wave of disbelief rushing down my body.

”Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” I laugh humourlessly.

”Ah, so that’s what we’re doing. Okay, good to know.” Ben rakes a shaking hand through his hair. ”How long are you really going to punish me for what I did?”

After living under an unspoken ceasefire for so long, where we’ve both treaded lightly to avoid each other’s mines going off, it felt like we’ve both reached a minefield that neither one of us was willing to ignore nor avoid.

”Punish? When have I ever punished you?” I hiss.

”So, what should I call this”, he gestures at the space between us, ”Torture?”

An uncontrollable snort leaves my mouth. ”If this relationship is torture to you why don’t you just leave?”

A cruel laugh, without any hint of amusement, bounces between the walls. It dies out just as quickly as it arose. His piercing stare turns darker as an ugly sneer takes over his face, warning me that whatever comes next will be damning.

”Oh fuck off Rey,” he spits, ”You know what? In all honesty, you were the one who drove me to do it. Don’t act like you're the victim in all of this. You were barely speaking to me at that point, let alone fucking me. I may have cheated on you, but you were just waiting for an excuse to hate me!"

My gaze drew up slowly, meeting his violent stare and angrily shaking form. His lower lip was trembling and if it was any other time I would’ve noticed the shame that was covering his features. However, all I could feel was the strange mix of anger and embarrassment washing over me.

”I’m beginning to understand why your parents wanted nothing to do with you.”

I regret it as soon as the words leave my mouth. His face falls and his otherwise tall and proud stature sags, as all the air leaves the room. As much as I wish I could have it unsaid, I know it’s impossible. I’ve crossed an invisible line and no matter how much I rack my brain, looking for something to say that would make it alright, I can’t manage to find it.

”I-. You don’t-” He clears his throat and looks down at his feet. ”I think I have to go.”

I open my mouth to object, to beg him to stay, but nothing comes out.

Instead, I just stand there, frozen in place, as he gathers some of his belongings, puts on his shoes and coat. And when he walks out, he does so without glancing back.