♡ “googles me? please don’t tell me she’s seen my linkedin..” that would be a long, long list of all of the projects he’s dabbled in. so much for his perfect reputation, laurent’s online presence was sort of .. pathetic. it was his voice that had sweetened deals for himself, helped him survive all of this time. that same charm that he’d used the first time he met her family, mixed with the nervousness that came from a set of parents staring you down. her full house was one of the many things he’d envied her for. wished for siblings, maybe that’s why he’s so GOOD at growing close to nearly anyone. in a way, he did have his own sort of loneliness. t’s a surprise to know they still thought of him so fondly. he’d expected them to get a full rundown of how they had eventually broken up—all of the gory details, with swears of hating him forever.
♡ infidelity was by far the worst sin in a relationship—consequences of astronomical heights and a lifetime of guilt were insured. a double whammy the night he’d called her, had the nerve to confess with clenched fists and tears streaming down. and he looks back on the moment now through a hypercritical lens—little room for nuance, even though deep down he knows he was influenced. telling her he’d cheated and breaking up with her were separate entities, even though he’d done it on the same ten minute phone call. one was a mistake-confiding in a familiar face and getting caught up in a moment, while the other was something he couldn’t quite explain. how could you tell your high school sweetheart that things needed to end because the voice in your head said to cut all ties? without sounding insane, or like a massive coward. and maybe it was a little bit of guilt, maybe the shame had pushed him to it-but he was certain him and his … ailment were not nearly enough for juliet. best to cut the chord.
♡ he blamed himself exclusively for his indiscretions, held juliet responsible for no part. after all, she was doing what she was supposed to do-going on to be GREAT-to excel. over and over he had imagined what she must’ve looked like on the other end of that phone—and her current expression sends chills. this may be the closest thing to it. letting out the air of a balloon, they fizzled and flopped, and he searched for her gaze once more. his smile has melted away, replaced with confusion on what he’d done to put a damper on her mood. he doesn’t even recognize the ring anymore- it was a part of him, and coincidentally fitted for one finger. only explained if he was asked about it, didn’t even think of removing it. and even now—it wasn’t as if he’d come back to beg for her, didn’t feel deserving of that after he’d blown up their lives. he had hoped she was elated, found so many lovers that he was a distant memory. “i do, they were SO young back then. like babies, i hope they’re doing well too.” a clear of his throat, “otherwise-life has been good?”
the last time they’d spoken, it’d barely qualified as a conversation. it was more like an audition. juliet the observer, laurent the performer; regurgitating practiced lines, getting swept up by the dark magic of the moment, improvising and choking on honest emotion. she remembered it well. it was emblematic of the divot she’d driven between them - juliet sat alone in a grandiose but dusty library, studying for her music theory exam, and laurent clawing desperately for even a severed chunk of her heart. she’d only taken the call because, if she didn’t, it would’ve been the fourth she’d ignored that day. something in her was quivering like a clench fist. she knew the truth. at least, she’d anticipated half of it - he would leave her, and juliet had understood this from the very start. she’d ignored it for as long as she could. however, the unfaithfulness had been a shock, and perhaps the worst of it. buckshot to the gut. i knew i wasn’t enough, but did you have to rub salt in the wound, too?
she hadn’t even asked who it was. in fact, she’d barely said anything at all. she’d come to hope, later, that her response (or lack thereof) had affirmed his decision. who is passed their own broken, blooded heart and is incapable of even a word - a sound - a wail of pain? she’d hung up the phone, walked to her dorm room, and remained there for three straight days. she still couldn’t recall this time too well. only the phone call, then darkness, then a crippling wave of loneliness that felt a lot like death.
it was hard to tell when she was, if ever, overreacting - her responses were often so internal that nobody was ever the wiser to comment. she wondered what the person who’d slipped that ring onto his finger was like. probably similar to him - less like searching for a jewel in wet mud and more like the jewel had been in his hand all along. she wanted to be happy for him. truly, she did. she just feared she wasn’t quite kind enough. juliet still avoided his eye. she needed to leave to collect herself, come back, try again. she wanted to impress him so badly - but, history repeats itself, and she continued to be her own worst enemy. “they are,” she answered, moulding her timbre into something close to normal. “they’re doing fantastic, actually.” both were married, both had children. suppose their careers weren’t quite the picture juliet’s was - but, who cares? really?
then, he asks a question she wished he wouldn’t have. juliet is a horrible liar - and laurent, perhaps, would remember this about her. she turns her chin to tentatively meet his searching gaze. she can’t help it; her eyes fall to the ring once again, but she quickly picks them back up. she cannot envision a reality in which laurent is unhappy. he was not built for sadness - she’d watch it roll off him, water off a duck’s back. she hated to pull him down with her. she wanted to tell him the truth, but she didn’t want to force the truth on him, either. a meek smile turned the left corner of her lip awry, and birdbone shoulders flitted in a shrug. “that depends entirely on your definition of ‘good’, i’m afraid.”
