in an effort to fight sleep last night, i wrote a small imagine at 3am. takes place just after aaron announces to mack and chas that they’re planning to leave the village. read it if you’d like (or don’t. you didn’t make a commitment to me).
“Is this where you normally end up when you need somewhere to hide?”
I hear the voice from behind me, just over my right shoulder. I know who it is before I’ve even looked up from the pint I’ve been nursing.
My brows furrow, and a sharp “what are you on about?” escapes me before I can stop it. My shoulders drop and I close my eyes, exhaling deep as I unwind. ‘Always defensive’ I imagined his next words to be. And maybe he’d be right.
I can’t quite bring myself to look at him, but I notice his soft blonde hair bounce ever so slightly as he sits beside me, the first rays of sundown bursting through the cascades of golden locks highlighting the freckles dotting his cheeks, and that’s when I realise that not even my peripheral is safe and I turn my head away entirely, instead choosing to focus on just about anything else.
“What, the local?” I say, deciding the best course of action is to change my approach, “half the village practically lives here. Terrible hiding place.”
That response is met with a short chuckle, and I feel his shoulders bounce as he does so, brushing just up against mine. His shoulders; his broad, safe shoulders that I could just..
“No, you’re right.” He cuts off my train of thought. “Although, if you ask me,” A short pause follows as his head turns in my direction, and I feel an almost magnetic force pulling my eyes to meet his gaze, one that I have to consciously fight back against.
“It seems like you’re definitely hiding from something.”
I catch a sigh before I can release it. The last thing I need is to give him ammunition.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, almost immediately regretting the question. There’s a pint on the table in front of him, meaning he had to have gone to the bar, meaning he knows exactly who’s sat there, and it’s only a matter of time before he follows; “I just wanted to get some air.”
I hear the “mm,” and take a breath, anticipating the third-degree. “I get it.”
This time, my head turns. I don’t need to say anything to make my scepticism clear. His eyes meet mine, confidence behind his stare, and I can feel myself begin to melt. He chuckles again, and I think about how much I missed that sound. How much I’m sure he missed it too.
“You forget our past sometimes, Aaron. What we’ve been through to get here.” Which elicits a scoff from me. As if I could ever forget. “It’s hard when the person you love, you know,” He pauses for a moment, a brief second that feels like a lifetime, “isn’t the one you made a commitment to.”
The wording is intentional, of course, and my blood runs cold as I wince. “Robert-“
“I know, Aaron,” his gaze drops as he takes a sip of his pint, and the moment of silence coaxes me into thinking about the way he says my name; soft like silk. Like saying it just a touch too loud would threaten to tear it to shreds. He puts his drink back down on the table and my eyes trickle down to his fingers wrapped around the glass, skin pale and supple. I remember how his felt against mine. “I’ve been thinking. Reflecting. I said I would wait and I meant it. I won’t rush you.”
My eyebrows furrow again, and a barrage of emotion hits me all at once. Relief? No. Disappointment? Not quite.
I think about telling him we’re moving away. My mouth opens and immediately runs dry, and all the words are stolen from me. Instead, I reach for my pint and drink, trying to disguise the generous gulp I force down myself as best as possible.
Almost immediately he senses the struggle and tags back in.
“You know,” He starts up again and his hand moves to rest on his thigh, inches away from mine. “The only person you owe happiness to is you,” The spit chokes up in my throat as I think back to what Mackenzie told me earlier, almost a perfect echo ringing in my head, the tears biting at my eyes. He can tell, I know he can. But he doesn’t stop.
“In fact, the only person you owe anything to,” his fingers edge closer, the space between us electrifying; radiating with such a heat that i just can’t bring myself to shield from.
This time I can’t stop myself from staring at him; from trying to figure out what he’s feeling. If his heart is burning the same as mine. I search his eyes for any kind of clue, trying to ignore just how gut-wrenching it is to spot the pain laced into his gaze.
Just as the space begins to close, i feel a different kind of heat piercing into the back of my skull. A heat that feels almost ice cold; the type that sends your nervous system into overdrive. He senses it too, and pulls his hand away from mine. My reflexes scream at me to grab him, to envelop myself into his warmth, to give myself what I’ve been so desperately yearning for.
He turns to me, and gives me a delicate smile, that all too familiar knowing smile that I once was so accustomed to, before leaving the table. The space feels so hollow now. My head turns to follow his path back inside, watching as he stops to give John a once-over. They don’t speak a word to each other, their stances telling themselves everything they need to know. A standoff. Robert leaves first, but not because he’s intimidated.
It’s because he knows he has the control back.
John glances back in the direction Robert left in, and a nauseous feeling swirls in my stomach. What does he know?
He approaches the table and sits down beside me, and I can’t help but long for the heat of the frame that was once there.
“What did he want?” He grumbles, tossing his head back at the entrance to the pub.
The same feelings as before flood back over me as I think about what Robert said. About how he won’t rush me. That he’ll wait.
And then it hits me. It wasn’t disappointment, nor relief.
“Just sticking his oar in as usual.” I mutter back, stifling any expression that threatened to appear on my face with a small, lopsided smirk.
