i'm feeling very greer/tristan tonight so give me a drabble about them let's see I need some angst something that'll make me sad idk man you choose MAKE IT GOOD
It is a given that they’ll break each other’s hearts. It is written in the very backbone of their story, there’s no other way around it, they are both too similar and too alike for it to turn out any other way though that doesn’t mean either of them expect it. That doesn’t mean either of them want it. That doesn’t mean it’s in their intentions at all. In fact, for two people who consider themselves the very antithesis of relationship material they fall into one, well, relatively easy.
Everything after that though, isn’t.
She warns him of course. Tells him that when it comes to her studies, when it comes to her extracurriculars, they come first. Greer is always a student first, an athlete second and a girlfriend last. She’s high strung and uppity, she’s stressed and overworked and Tristan of course does what—well what he believes he does best. He drinks. He fights. He takes every single frustration out on his own body and she’s so god damned busy that she doesn’t even realize it until weeks later.
He realizes, too little too late, that he’s wasted his time.
Christmas vacation is the first time they’re legitimately together in weeks and though she lays next to him, idly tracing circles on his arm, frowning at the fading bruises on his face they’re both aware that it’s not the same. That everything is different, everything is awkward and stilted and so fucking strained that they’re not sure if there’s any saving it.
A part of him wishes they would fight. That he could be an asshole and make her snap, that she would scream at him, that they could hash out all their problems in some sort of overdramatic cliched fashion and all would be well again, but he’s too damn tired to even try, too damn upset over a failed attempt at an actual relationship that he doesn’t even think it’s worth it. It’s not worth fighting for.
There’s an almost unspoken agreement between the two of them and it hurts— it hurts so fucking much she can feel it, he can feel it, and it takes all her willpower to stop herself from kissing him hard, a hail mary, deux ex machina attempt at saving it. Saving them.
They let each other go, though; or at least that’s how they both think of it. That’s how they both comfort themselves. A mutual break up. Left off on friendly terms. In reality, there’s equal parts longing and resentment from the both of them and the only thing they wish is finding a solution to making it all better again.
