|Repose Remembers (reposeremembers) wrote in repose,|
@ 2020-04-12 17:18:00
|Entry tags:||plot: memories, tandy bowen|
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing
Warning, this memory contains: A dash of cuteness, mostly
"If you want to be with someone, and you know that, then there's no time like the present to start looking. Yes?" You can hear the faint smile in his voice. The room is dark except for the light coming from your computer monitor. The sound is down; you're reading subtitles anyway. You're sitting on the bed together, shoulder-to-shoulder but not quite touching.
You're thinking really hard about your reply; you know he's smarter than you, more experienced. In fact, you look up to him, maybe even hero-worship just a little bit. You've looked for the flaws, the cracks in the armor, but quite honestly they've all been sealed over by adoration. You're not sure if the words are an invitation, or a trap. What you're certain of, though, is that you can't come out and say what you're really feeling. What you have been feeling for months. "I think...it's good to have friends. And not to fuck up being friends if you want something more and they don't." You lean in and you can feel his body heat warming your skin, but you're still not quite touching. It feels like enough. "Or is that just being a coward?"
"But you're never just friends with those people. Not unless those feelings fade. You can end a friendship by telling someone something like that, but was it really a friendship in the first place if a person has other motives? I'm not sure myself. Either way, it seems better to be honest and shoulder the risk, doesn't it?"
You don't want to think about it that way, that your entire friendship to this point has been an ulterior motive of some sort. Yes, he's become the one you run to, every time something's going wrong in your life (which seems like a lot). But that's because you trust him, you care about him, he's always been willing to listen or help, even protect you. You want to be protected. Touched, held. You say a mental fuck it and verify your arm is actually pressed against his. You tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. It's not the most comfortable thing ever but it's him and the fact that he's not shrugging you off or pushing you away, that he's just not enduring it in uncomfortable silence, that all encourages you. Fingers twisting together in your lap, you tell him about the friend who loved you, once. The friend you couldn't love back, and how you couldn't endure his sad eyes. You don't tell him how you don't want to find yourself looking at him with those same sad eyes.
"You felt bad for making someone else feel bad, because you're kind. It always hurts when someone doesn't feel the same as you do. But once you know, you have to process it and move on, I think. Refusing to let go just punishes the other person for not feeling the same way."
You hope you can face your eventual rejection with such a mature outlook. Maybe there's hope for you, yet. Decisions, though. Big decisions are hard. If you don't say the words, if you're not rejected, if you don't know things for sure, you can keep living on in blissful ignorance. You don't have to let go, to process, or to move on. There's no punishing him for anything if you don't know for sure he feels the same way. Of course, you hope he does. You're still young, and you've only known him for a few months, but you know you love him. The trepidation of facing any kind of future without him is so daunting, you resolve you would rather never say anything, to live in this place between love and friendship for the rest of your life than to give in and ruin things between you. No, he'd never cast you aside just for expressing how you really feel about him; you're reassured of that. It just seems so unlikely that he'd return the emotions, no matter how much you want it to be true.
So, why be brave? You'll leave it in his hands.
...strong hands, probably. And as you sit there watching the movie, if you don't let yourself drift into a little fantasy about how they'd feel, pinning your wrists down to the bed? Well, you can't really be blamed for that, can you?