Chapter Text
Colin POV
They were having the worst argument they had ever had, shouting at each other. They didn’t do this, this wasn’t them.
Eloise had let slip that Pen had started seeing some guy named Alfred. Alfred... who the fuck is called Alfred anyway? Stupid name, if you asked him.
He didn't really know why they were arguing. He had just heard Eloise say they were dating and his brain had short circuited. Because Pen didn't date. She should, he thought, he always thought she should, he was sure she did, in fact, but they didn't talk about it. Ever.
She should date me, he thought. Everything had changed, but he couldn't say that now.
Instead, he'd said something stupid, hurtful, he couldn't quite remember what right now because his head was spinning.
She had tried to leave, because quite rightly she was angry with him, but he had pulled her into the library.
The problem was that he couldn't get out of his own head for long enough to stop making it worse, and she had just stopped and stared at him.
What was she thinking? She was worth more than that loser (he didn’t know anything about him). She was worth everything, didn't she know that? Hadn't he told her that? He was sure he had along the way, but not in the way he desperately wanted to now.
She was breathing heavily, her eyes wet and glassy, cheeks flushed, pink on peach. Beautiful.
His best friend, his every waking thought, and she was dating a gigantic loser (he could only assume).
He didn't know the guy, but knew he wasn't right for her, no one was… and it irritated him, he was incensed, his skin crawling with the unfairness of it all, all the while knowing he had no right to feel that way.
He didn't know what to say, without saying everything he'd come to realise he'd been blind to for years, what he had ignored along the way, so they could stay who they are to each other.
What they are now. What they had always been.
Best friends, yes, but now... more, there was more here, there had to be, he had let himself hope for more.
But it was too late, he couldn't take the risk now. He should have done it then. He shouldn't have waited.
Should have told her when he knew.
Should… should… should… didn't.
Fucking idiot, he thought, not without irony.
Maybe he was the real loser here. The thought hit harder than he expected.
So he stared.
And she stared back.
“Colin…”
He let his gaze linger on her mouth, flitting back to her eyes, but she looked away from him.
“Colin... you have to let me try. You have to.”
He frowned, not understanding. “Try what Pen?” he asked, willing her to look back at him so he could know what she was thinking. He'd always been able to read her, hadn't he? He wasn't so sure anymore.
Her brow furrowed as she turned her gaze back to him, desperation flickering in her eyes. “You have to let me try to get over you,” she said, just above a whisper.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
NO! No, no, no. Cannot. Will not. Do not want to… he thought.
He wanted to climb out of his own skin because, what the fuck did she mean, get over him?
That would suggest more… and a spark of hope reignited, kindling catching light.
He couldn't take his eyes off her and she couldn't keep her eyes on him.
She looked tired, small and uncomfortable and he just wanted to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay, but he hadn't said anything in a minute. The silence was deafening, except for the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
Her expression moved from desperation to determination as she hurried to fill the silence.
“Colin, I think it’s best if… well, for both of us, mostly me, honestly… I'm not suggesting that you… we… ugh… I'm not saying... Christ! I just... you just need to let me get over you…”
He willed his heart to slow down, to understand what she was saying, because it sounded like... well it sounded like... and he really didn't want to do what she was asking of him as the hope continued to crackle in his chest, the embers glowing.
“The fuck I do, Pen…”
And he moved, not thinking, he was so tired of thinking, closing the gap between them as he held her face for a beat, searching her eyes.
“The fuck I do, Pen.”
He crashed into her and the fire was ablaze.
Bruising and soft, teeth, tongue, breath held and breath stolen.
A moan, barely above the whisper of her breath, and he came alive.
Everything aligned, effortless and absolute; nothing had ever felt more right.
He didn't know how long they'd been kissing, but he felt like he could no longer breathe. His hands held her face to his, as his thumbs stroked her cheeks, his body pinned her back against the bookshelf, whilst her delicate hands held onto his wrists.
God help him, his mind wandered, imagining where else those hands might touch...
They surfaced for air and his certainty shattered as quickly as it had come.
Forehead to forehead, eyes squeezed shut, he suddenly wasn’t so sure of anything at all. He hoped and he prayed that she was on the same page after what she had said, after she had kissed him back, after the fire was so evident between them.
But he felt the mood shift as the oxygen was sucked from the room and the fire went out. He knew then, knew he had made a mistake.
“Colin, you have to let me try," she repeated quietly, as she dropped her hands from his wrists and pulled away from him.
“Pen…” he called after her, his voice wrecked, heart breaking, as he watched her walk out the door.