Tatum didn't want to open up her eyes and see anything. Just like with her fight with Teagan, Tatum knew that Emma was right. She knew that what she had done was wrong. She had approached the whole situation the wrong way, just dropped it into Emma's lap in an inconsiderate way that she never would have done before. Tatum's imagining of how she'd one day tell Emma her feelings usually looked more like a proposal in her head. She'd always been too afraid to say a word, but if she ever did, she had wanted it to be romantic, the right moment. It had to mean something, because the depth of her feelings for Emma meant something to her. Though she had definitely had her share of x-rated fantasies (not to mention dreams) about her best friend, the idea of confessing her love to the brunette usually didn't involve forcibly shoving her tongue in her mouth and trying to worm a hand up her shirt.. though that had been nice, too.
But Emma deserved better than that. Still, knowing that she was in the wrong didn't make the sting of rejection hurt the redhead any less. Especially when Emma continued to go off on her, scoffed at her. It took all of Tatum's self control not to turn around and grab the other girl by her shoulders, shove her back onto her again. "What did you want me to fucking say?!" she snapped back instead, her voice cracking a little as she placed her hands over her face again, hiding behind them. "Like, how exactly do I start that fucking conversation? Like, really! Nice weather we're having, I've been masturbating to you since I was fifteen? Or maybe, I don't know, start off with the classic hey I've had a big fat lesbian crush on you basically since the first day I met you, lets chat about it? Yeah, because hearing that weird shit wouldn't make you fucking hate me more or anything!" Tatum scoffed at herself, "I'm a fucking freak, obviously, whatever!"
It was what everyone had always said, anyway, and she was starting to believe it. If her own best friend couldn't accept her, then who would? In Tatum's mind, there was only Emma.
The other girl's brand of tough love was unsurprising, although Tatum had never given cause for it to be used on her before. She knew Emma, she knew she would only take so much, and she was unsurprised when the brunette waved at the door and began suggesting her leaving. Her chest felt literally pained, her heart still racing and her stomach dancing with butterflies and bad feelings. But she managed to keep up a decent poker face even as her heart broke, as Emma told her that she didn't love her the same, that she couldn't, that things couldn't be good between them. No matter what she fantasized, and fantasized she had. They could be good, Tatum knew it, they were made for each other. Emma was just being too much of a cunt to see it. She was so stubborn.
She had half turned back toward the other girl, but her pitiful crying face was gone, even though her cheeks were wet with tears. Her face had contorted into one of rage as she looked back at her friend. She knew she had gotten herself into this mess, but she still felt betrayed, for the second time. Emma really was just like Teagan. Bitches, the both of them. And she was no princess. For one, they got happy endings. The love interest of a princess always loved them back. Her feelings for Emma were no fairytale. "You know what? That's fine, that's just fucking fine. I'll go. I don't need to fucking stay here," the redhead practically hissed, throwing her arms up into the air dramatically. "I don't need you and I don't need to be here with you and I don't need your fucking pity friendship!"
If Emma wanted her space, Tatum would give it to her. She was still too scorned and, deep down, embarrassed to look the other girl in the eye anyway. There was no way she could stay. But she wasn't going to just go without the last word.