She was being transported to the Shands.
She was being transported to the Shands.
When Rabbit had fluid in his lungs, they wouldn’t bring him to the Shands. They said it was nothing serious. He passed out on the floor.
When Papa Collins got his broken jaw wired shut, they wouldn’t bring him to the Shands. He cut himself free with nail clippers after ten weeks.
They put Lacey in the Shands.
“I’m looking for a patient. Lacey Ainsworth.”
“Room 410, b--”
“Thanks.”
His legs carried him to her, almost on autopilot. He had blinders on; he just had to get there. He had to see her.
As soon as he’d entered the room, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. The fog lifted only slightly when his blue eyes settled on her slender frame, legs hidden beneath a thin, white blanket.
He stopped in his tracks. Her name escaped his lips in a whisper:
“Lacey.”
As he made his way down the hallway, Scott's eyes darted to the shiny silver watch on his left wrist: 9:57am. Good, he still had three minutes.
That is to say, if he was late, he might as well not go at all.
Entering the classroom, he quickly looked around for his buddies: not here today, as usual. He probably should have skipped, too, but he'd heard from yesterday's section that there was going to be a pop quiz today.
Not that he would pass the quiz, of course, but a failing grade was better than another zero.
He slipped into one of the first available seats--near the back, always near the back--and turned to the girl to his left. "Hey, can I borrow your notes?" he asked, giving her a smile. The smile usually tilted the odds in his favor with girls. "I ... missed last class."
ring tone: the first twelve seconds of this from Aqua Teen Hunger Force (yeah)
scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on October 3rd, 2016: u shuld cooomeeee to the partyyyyyyscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on October 3rd, 2016: pls?scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on October 3rd, 2016: u can watch me beat every1 @ beer pongscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on October 3rd, 2016: and by tht i mean u can supprt me while i beat every1 @ beer pong 😎
scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on November 19, 2016: nah i’ll stay sober. ill only have like 1 beerscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on November 19, 2016: you have nothing to worry about. ill be there the whole timescott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on November 19, 2016: i swear, i wont leave your sidescott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on February 11th, 2017: i cant do thisscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on February 11th, 2017: im not smart enough for this laceyscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on February 11th, 2017: im gonna flunk out and its not even midterms yetscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on February 11th, 2017: this was such a bad idea fuckscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on February 11th, 2017: this is hard. this is really hard
scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on March 28th, 2017: an A, 2 B’s, and a C !!!scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on March 28th, 2017: i cant believe it ive never done so well on my midterms beforescott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on March 28th, 2017: thanks for all your helpscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on March 28th, 2017: reallyscott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on March 28th, 2017: i dont think i could have done any of this without you
scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on August 4, 2017: yea i mean scott ➡ lace 🙂😉😊😃😄 on August 4, 2017: youre kind of the best thing thats ever happened to me
send # for cell phone headcanons about our muses | accepting!
As the Kik para comes to a close, and finally regain control of my emotions again. God bless. ( Once again starring @justalostindie, and @wastedsxns for supportive commentary, for doing things such as throwing popcorn and talking to her phone screen in anguish)
***
Scott navigates Lacey’s apartment like a veteran tour guide; he knows it better than his own frat house. It takes mere seconds for him to take the familiar path to her bedroom, but for a moment, he takes a detour and hangs back against the door frame.
Surely he’s looked better–a hot shower can’t wash away red, puffy eyes and drooping, dark circles–but it doesn’t matter right now. He’s just here to make Lacey feel better.
“Hey.”
He wants to go to her, but like a vampire, he waits to be invited in. This is her house: her rules. He wraps his fingers around the door frame behind him–as close as he can get to her without breaking these new boundaries that she’s laid out for them.
“How are you feeling?”
The minutes she waited for Scott’s a rival both felt like hours and seconds. Why did she agree to this? Wasn’t this the opposite of what a broken up couple did? The answer was yes, but her whole body was craving him. Every drop of her eyelids brought his image, that she couldn’t shake herself from, thus she stayed awake.
Her internal debate made her jump at hearing his voice. The lights were off, her hair was ratty, her eyes red.
“Hi,” she whispered. “Like shit…but we went through that already.”
His eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet, but he knows she looks beautiful. She always does.
“I guess I was just sort of hoping the answer might’ve changed.”
Something tells him the invitation isn’t coming soon, so he prompts it. “Do you mind if I …”
His eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet, but he knows she looks beautiful. She always does.
“I guess I was just sort of hoping the answer might’ve changed.”
Something tells him the invitation isn’t coming soon, so he prompts it. “Do you mind if I …”
Lacey crossed her arms over her chest selfconsciously, this was so stupid. “There’s still time for it to,” she whispered. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she sniffled a bit. “Yeah, yeah, you can come in. That’s…I mean why you’re here, right?” Or something like that.
“How have you been?”
“Yeah.”
This is stupid. He hears the rasp in her voice, and maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him again, but she sounds like she needs him.
He goes to her.
The blonde slides into bed beside her like he’s done so many times before, and he feels a pang in his chest at the thought that this might be the last.
“I’ve been …” What reigns supreme: his pride or the truth? “ … not so great. I could probably use some shut-eye, too.”
His eyes lid softly, as though on cue. He tries not to think about that morning, laying on the bathroom floor and counting the tiles until he lost track. He tries not to be that broken-hearted boy right now.
“But I can leave–after you fall asleep, of course. If that makes you uncomfortable.”
Lacey doesn’t want to turn to him when he climbs into bed with her, but her body works without her mind and Scott has gravitational pull. She curled into his side, one hand balling into a fist around a handful of his shirt. Even if her words were telling him to go, her whole being was calling her a liar.
She didn’t answer him really, except for a few more sniffles and a smattering of silent tears. “I’m sorry,” she croaked at barely above a whisper, and she was. Sorry that she couldn’t be stronger, sorry that she was a mess, sorry that she needed him to be there even if she shouldn’t.
“I don’t want you to go,” the girl admited after a long moment of something that couldn’t be called silence.
Scott is surprised when he feels the weight on the bed shift as she turns to him. He feels her familiar hand grasp at his shirt, and what should be a sharp glance in shock becomes a slow, sleepy blink in exhaustion. Not that he was expecting this, but he’s too overtired to show it. Something about this bed is muffling the constant chatter that his mind has been spewing for the past two days. Or maybe it’s her.
He can’t see the tears, but he can hear them. Look, he’s done it again. His hand goes to her back to do like he promised, rubbing gently like she used to do to him.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’m here as long as you want me.”
At least he isn’t pushing her away. It wasn’t that Lacey actively expected him to, but she knew it was a possibility and that she would deserve it. Honestly, she can’t tell if he’s ok with everything that’s going in, but she isn’t about to ask. His coping mechanisms are probably not something she wants to think about.
Besides, before she could actually get the words out, her sniffles begin to subside and her death grip on him begins to relax. Not completely, she’s not quite asleep yet, but she feels better than the hours prior. “I fucked up,” she whispered. “And I can’t take it back.”
For awhile, there’s a calm stillness between them that hasn’t existed in days–maybe even before the breakup. The crickets play their gentle song from her open window, but otherwise there’s a shared silence: soft breathing, hearts beating. It’s nice. Soothing. He could fall asleep right now, lulled into a peaceful slumber that he hasn’t seen in two nights. But then Lacey’s voice lilts in a breath over the evening’s sleep sounds and he remembers why he can’t just yet. He cracks open his eyes so he can see her outline in the darkness.
“Sure you can,” he murmurs. “You always can.” As though to prove his point, the hand that was previously rubbing her back moved to her face, tucking a wild tendril behind her ear before gently resting on her cheek. “Talk to me.”
((I SLACKED OFF AND KIK ATE SOME OF THIS AND IM SO UPSET ))
The past forty-eight hours had been a black hole of exhaustion and grief, but with those words, he felt like he was finally able to breathe again.
“I love you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. “Why can’t we go back to the way things were?” The question held an air of childlike innocence. “You acted the same way around me for two years. Why does that have to change?” A soft breath escaped him. This was such a complicated mess; he didn’t know how to fix it without her help. “What are your doubts? What’s stopping you?”
In his arms, Lacey finally felt some semblance of whole again and part of her wanted to vomit. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go, that wasn’t how she was supposed to feel.
“Going back to the way we were doesn’t make this any better. We’d have this exact same fallout some point in the future. It doesn’t change how much I hate myself right now, or how uncomfortable I am around Harper or your drunk friends,” it didn’t change what she wanted for the future or his opinion on them.
“I don’t known if we can fix it,” she took a shaky breath. “That’s why I don’t know if there’s a point.”
Innocence lost. They were talking themselves into dead ends. Scott pulled away, rolling onto his back with a frustrated sigh.
“I can’t change things about other people, Lacey.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, lips pressed tightly together in a line. “I can’t control what Harper does, and I can’t control what my friends do–who, by the way, aren’t my ‘drunk’ friends. But if they’ve said something to you, you have to tell me. I’ll tell them to back off.”
He glared at her ceiling fan, as though he could make it spin and change her mind. “Nice to see you’ve given up, then.”
When he moved away, she tucked herself as far into the corner of the bed as she could and wrapped her arms around her knees. She should’ve just shut up.
“I never said you could, I didn’t tell you to, but I have an issue with them that’s effecting this,” Lacey was at a loss. She didn’t know how to say half of what she wanted to say. “Harper makes me feel worthless, and nine times out of ten he gets away with it. Yeah, I say one thing, he blows up, sometimes I don’t say anything,” she choked up slightly. “I can’t be around your frat brothers when they’re drinking, and they usually are. It’s…they say things but it was more…what they did. I can’t be there and that’s the only place you ever are.”
Rocking slightly, tears began to fall again, “I didn’t…i just don’t know what to do.”
This is so not how Scott thought this evening was going to go. His daydreams of the past fifteen minutes were nothing like this: he pictured her overtired and under-loved, desperately missing him, ready to come back into his open arms to take back what they had.
But expectations and reality did not coincide this time.
“But you’re not dating them,” he insisted. “You’re dating me.” Muttered under his breath, an afterthought: “–were.” He mimicked her position absentmindedly, rolling up and sitting back against the headrest; even separated, they still shared a wavelength.
“I get that this a problem–trust me, I do–but I just can’t believe that this is a DEALBREAKER for you. That you’re ready to throw away two years, just because you don’t like my friends. And that’s fine, you don’t have to like them, but I just don’t know how we got here. I feel like this came out of nowhere.”
He paused, processing something in her words that he’d missed.
“What do you mean 'what they did’? My brothers–what’d they do?”
“I know,” the tears were no longer freely flowing down Laceys cheeks. She had seemingly run out. It was probably closer to dehydration than it was that.
“I can’t be around them. You’re around them so often, it’s just…they’re not the deal breaker but they are part of the problem. The other is you. Did you know I started my business? The one i kept telling you I wanted to start? Or is my dream just getting married and that’s stupid?” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t care that you drink, but I’ve asked if you could do it less. You won’t. So, if that’s how everything’s going to go, me talking and you not listening or not caring, I can’t do this no matter how much I love you.”
Of course he asked her to explain, she couldn’t blame him, her words were vague. “It wasn’t all of them…but you know what he did.”
His hands attacked his messy blonde locks, fighting the urge to rip them out. One minute they were on the same page; the next they were reading completely separate books.
“Will you stop saying that?” It was more of a snap than he would have liked. “I don’t think your dreams are stupid. I’d never think ANY of your dreams are stupid. I just want more for you than getting married–even if it’s marrying me. If that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you, but I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of it. It’s scary to think about, you know?”
He bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to control his temper. “As for your business, no, I did not, because you didn’t tell me. I want to know what’s going on with you, but you don’t talk to me. You tell me things in riddles and then expect me to guess what you’re thinking. It’s really hard, Lacey.”
Scott released a sigh–more tired this time. He never liked to talk about 'deep’ things like this, and it was emotionally taxing on his exhausted mind. He allowed himself a moment to really process, really let her words sink in, before lashing out again. Although he seemed to be the only one trying, he really wanted to make this work. “Is it really that bad?” he whispered. “Everyone else–it’s the same for them. It’s college–” No. He can’t give the same response as he usually does. That’s why she’s mad. He took a deep breath. “I care,” he said firmly, “and don’t you dare say that I don’t.” He paused: concentrating, contemplating “Would you really break up with me because of that? It bothers you that much?” He chewed on his lip in contemplation. “I understand, that that’s on your list. I’ll try. Just … please don’t ask me to stop.”
His crumpled form shot up at her final words, back tall and alert as his head snapped up. “You know who it is?” he asked, demanding for an answer in tone. “When you told me you said you didn’t remember. You didn’t say it was one of them.” His voice turned hard. “Who was it?”
“No I won’t, because you said it. My only dream isn’t fucking marrying you Scott Sparks, I just…thought we would never be apart. I wanted you in my life until I die and it’s a slap in the face to hear that you think it’s shitty,” she ran her hands over her face and hiccuped.
“I have told you. I told you when that was that I wanted to do, I told you when I was thinking of actually doing it. You fucking helped me set up the website the other day,” it wasn’t helping so much as trying to seduce her, but he had been there. “I tell you things. Yes, sometimes I speak cryptically because I’m trying to see if you remember and most times you don’t. You’re smart, Scott but you don’t…put effort into anything,” and she knew it was because he didn’t think he was.
Chewing on her lip for a moment, Lacey waited for the excused that she knew were coming. It was a shock to her when he didn’t finish them. “I’m not asking you to stop. I only ask for less. Yes, I’m aware it’s college and your boys and whatever, but if I’m lucky, you’re trashed five days a week. More if I’m not lucky. Drink, that’s fine, but you don’t need to get fucked up beyond fucked up, you just choose to. I can’t be around you when you are and I want to be around you.” The sniffles started again, but no tears accompanied it. “I didn’t who it was…but I knew he was a frat boy. I remember the letters on his shirt,” she choked down a cry. “I didn’t remember until the one party I went with you to. He was there, I saw his face and I…I was frozen. I knew he remembered me…i know he knew me.”
He paused, blinking slowly. “Lacey … that’s a long time. We’re not even out of school yet. How can you plan down the line that far?”
His eyes narrowed in the darkness. Forget separate books–they were in separate libraries. They were talking themselves in circles and this was a starting to get old.
“Will you stop saying that?” he growled, picking his head up. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.” Shaking his head, he added, “And I can’t believe you test me, like some kind of kid. That’s such a shitty thing to do. I’m your boyfriend, not your student. I get enough of that at school.”
He tapped his socked feet on the comforter, fidgeting in an effort to keep his cool.
“I just think it’s funny that you have this list of no-buts demands for me, and yet there’s nothing on there for you. Like you do nothing wrong. It’s not fair. If I’m doing all this changing so we can be together, what are you doing?”
Scott released a long, slow breath, closing his eyes again. “I don’t know who it could have been. He’s probably long gone by now. And I’m sorry that happened, Lacey, I’m really sorry. I just wish that didn’t prevent you from hanging out with me.” He rubbed at his tired eyes, willing them to open for just a little longer. “You have to understand, I don’t want to have to choose between you and all my friends. Just because one person did something really bad doesn’t mean the rest of them are like that. They’re actually really great guys, if you’d try to give them a chance. I promise they’d like you if they got to know you.”
“I’m allowed to know what I want Scott, it’s now my fault you don’t. You don’t have to, but I can,” she was whispering now, they obviously weren’t going to agree on most of this.
When he growled, shrank back further, it wasn’t a voluntary reaction. “Well if my boyfriend actually listened to anything I said…I repeat myself a lot, Scott. It’s not a test, I just want to know if you are actually there. It’s not like I’m doing it often.”
Now she was confused, “I’m not making a to-do list Scott…I’m telling you how I feel, what upsets me. I’m also not saying I don’t do anything wrong, or that I don’t need to change, but I can’t speak for what I do that upsets you. I can’t bring it up or ask for the change, that’s on you, and you don’t bring anything up.”
Their last topic made her shiver. “I’m not asking you to not hang out with them. I’m asking for you to not be shit faced all the time. Or maybe split your time more. Compared to them I don’t see you, and no, I can’t hang out around them…because of him. He’s still there, he’s your pledge class. So as great as the rest of them might be, I can’t feel comfortable there. I’m sorry.”
“I listen to you!” he said, slamming his hand on the mattress. “I listen to you more than anyone else. Sometimes the things you say don’t make much sense to me, but don’t you dare say I don’t try.”
He was still so blindsided. Two years of innocent bliss had been ripped from his fingers in a matter of hours; he still didn’t know how to process it.
Scott released a frustrated groan, attacking his hair. “Shit, Lacey, I’m not shitfaced all the time. Just because I have a beer or two with my brothers most nights doesn’t make me an alcoholic. Sometimes I get drunk, but don’t act like it’s every freakin’ night.” After a pause, he added, “–And don’t act like that makes you any better than me.”
Seems she struck a nerve. It was a subject she brought up often, and sometimes he found truth in her statements, and that scared him. He lashed out.
“Just because you don’t drink doesn’t make me wrong. I’m sick and tired of you acting like you’re more of an adult than me just because you don’t.” After a pause, he added, “–and because you want to get married.” His new least favorite word. “And I know that you think I’m just immature or childish or whatever for saying that, but I don’t get why you’re so focused on the future. So much can change. You don’t know what’s coming. Don’t you get tired of thinking ahead all the time? All this 'ten years from now’ and 'forever’? What about now? What about today? Who’s to say what you think’s going to happen really will? Plans are always gonna change. You can’t plan for anything.” The proverbial white flag was heavy, but it was seeming better than dragging out this endless argument. He eyed his sneakers sitting at the side of the bed.
“I can’t fix everything, Lace,” he said softly, resting his hands on either side of him. “Some things, yeah, but not when it comes to other people. Not when it comes to Harp, to Pike. Even if I lightened up on the beer, even if I hung out less at the house, even if I spent more time with you. Hell, even if I moved out and changed everything about me–it wouldn’t help, would it? I’ll still have my letters, you’ll still see Harp. It just seems like no matter what I do, you’ll just never be happy.”
This was his surrender, he realized. This was his white flag. Slowly, he swung his legs around to the side of the bed and started putting on his shoes.
“There’s only so much I can do without becoming someone else. Not gonna lie, I came here thinking we were gonna get back together. But as much as I don’t want to see you with someone else, I also have no clue how this is I gonna work out if you hate everything I do and don’t do.”
The slamming of his hands against the mattress was enough to make her physically jump from the bed. She wasn’t trying to be afraid, but she couldn’t help it. Tears ran down her face as she pressed herself against the wall.
“I’m not saying I’m better than you,” she whimpered. “I don’t think I’m better than anybody, you of all people should know that. My not drinking has nothing to do with you. I think I’m less than everybody, I don’t think I’m anything, don’t you dare,” except there was no malice in her voice. She was just sad, and scared.
“I’m not saying don’t drink, I’m just asking for the quantity to be less. Maybe you don’t realize you’re drunk when you are, but fuck Scott, you are and I don’t want to be scared of you,” that was her biggest problem. It wasn’t him as much as she was terrified, but she was working on it as much as she could.
“I’m thinking about the future because the present is killing me. If I think about the future it means I have one and I don’t give up. I just…want to give up,” she slid onto the ground and covered her face. She couldn’t watch him leave, again.
“I don’t care about your letters, I don’t hate anything you do, I just want you to. understand. I’m trying my best, and you’re not meeting me in the middle. I love you. I love…almost everything about you, but I’m scared.”
Scott spends awhile tying his shoes, looping perfect bunny ears and securing them with double knots. He can hear his (ex-?) girlfrend falling apart on the other side of the room, and he's too lost to make a move. He's stumped, but as long as he's still tying his shoes, he doesn't have to act yet.
But all procrastination must come to a close. He stands up and makes his way to the door, before turning his head to look at her--really look at her. Even without the lights on to illumimate her face, she looks tired: crumpled, broken, and scared. He has a decision to make.
The blonde grabs onto the door frame that anchored him earlier. Is he the problem or the cure? The elixir or the poison? He thinks that there's no ether in the world that could solve all their problems, and without her, his life would be so such simpler. No fighting, no future, no compromise--just living his life the way he chooses. Maybe he'll even take up her offer and fuck other girls just for fun.
He lets go of the door frame.
His legs carry him to her, his heart deciding for his brain. He hates himself for caving, hates this magnetic hold she has on him, but he's kneeling down in front of her on the floor. Because as much as he hates himself for giving in to love, he also hates to see her cry.
"I'll meet you in the middle," he whispers. "Okay? I promise." His hand finds her cheek, and although he shouldn't be surprised, the hot tears under his palm make him duck his head in shame. "Tell me what I have to do--drink less, whatever--and I'll do it." His words are wavering, but he's surer than he's ever been. "Just please don't cry."
Below the cut is the log from our lil’ kik chat yesterday, because kik likes to eat old posts and i like to hoard. I don’t have all of the texts leading up to this, but here’s the para. Shoutout for @justalostindie and @wastedsxns for ripping my heart out when I was supposed to be packing 💖💖
***
Scott knocks at the door. His hair is damp and he still smells like the ocean, but he’s in dry clothes. ( He isn’t sure what attire one wears to be broken up with, so he wears a button-up and jeans, like he’s about to go on a date ).
Lacey didn’t want to answer the door, but Scott had demanded to be spoken to, so here she was. Wearing lower cut shirt and skinny jeans she pulled the door open. Her eyes were red and her clothes were scrunched.
He hates how hot she looks when she opens the door. He’s supposed to be mad at her, but damn she looks good. And he didn’t know girls could look like that after they’ve been crying, but boy was he wrong. “Hey. You look nice. Going somewhere?” A quick, additional glance at her body, the way the fabric hugs her curves, the red-rimmed eyes: a snapshot in his mind for the mental scrapbook he’s been binding. “Can I come in?”
“I had work,” she mumbled, stepping back from the door without looking up. If she looked at him, her resolve would leave and she knew that. Especially when he might actually look like a sad puppy. “That’s why you came, isnt it? Close the door behind you.” She walked further into the apartment.
“Yeah,” he says. “It is.” He closes the door behind him. “I was hoping we could talk–you know, mano to mano. Or, womano to mano.” He’s stalling; he knows it. He came all this way to talk to her, and now that he has her in front of him, he’s tongue-tied. All the times he’s tried to talk, the words have always come out jumbled, and now he’s at bat with two strikes and he’s afraid this will be his last. For once, he’s glad she’s not looking at him. “I want to talk, about everything you said to me today. Everything that got us here.”
When he rambled, she did look up. Somehow, Lacey managed to keep her expression plain, bored if you would. Why was he doing this? “Yeah,” she muttered in response. “Ok,” again, she didn’t know what exactly she was supposed to reply with. “You were upset that I wasn’t letting you speak. So…speak.”
Last chance.
He’s up at bat and he’s jittery. He thought about what to say on the drive over, but it all disappeared when he walked through the door, so he picks one of the jarbled thoughts in his mind and starts with that.
“I know I created a mess. From the start, you were never in a good situation. I did that, I know. And it’s been three years,” a sardonic, incredulous chuckle escapes him in a breath, “and it’s STILL haunting me. I can’t go back in time, and I can’t fix that. I know Harper still hounds you about it sometimes, but most of the time I forget … that things are probably still awkward for you, even now.” He glances down and suddenly finds her rug very interesting. First sign of a confession: he’s uncomfortable. “I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know how to fix ANY of this. I don’t know what to do.” She’s silent; he runs a hand through his hair and keeps talking. “I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me. I want us to work this out.” He feels a little more confident now–he has a plan of attack. “I want to shoot down, everything single you said today, one by one, and prove you wrong. Or prove you right.”
She was silent the whole time he spoke, shocking herself when the tears did not come. “You created a mess and I’m paying for it,” she pointed out. “I’m the homewrecker, I’m the slut, I’m the one that fucked everything up,” Lacey whispered. “Its awkward because I’m the one being guilt tripped and when he’s saying it, you’re not there. Then when you are, you back him up. It feels like you still want him. You both do,” a shaky sigh came from her lips.
“I love you, I do, but…i can’t keep losing to alcohol, and the frat. You calling what I want for my life, shitty…it shows you don’t listen to me and I’m naked and the words coming from my lips are harder, faster, or don’t stop. Because marrying you is not all I want, it was part of it, but you don’t know the other part…so I’m not sure I should want you in any part of it.”
1-2, Pow.
Maybe he’s not at a baseball game. Maybe it’s a boxing match, and she’s tearing him a new one. He likes to think they’re on the same team, but if she needs to let some aggression out, then that’s okay. He’ll be her boxer.
“It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “It never was. You didn’t know.” Ten minutes in and this isn’t getting any easier. “Harper likes to forget that we weren’t happy. Likes to forget that we argued all the time, that things were just bad. I think… I think he likes to forget all that, and place the blame on you. And that’s not right. I need to be better about telling him that. He never knows when to back off.”
Then the guilt comes, because just like Harper, he likes having some place else to place the blame.
“You’re not second place. And I didn’t mean it like that.” He tries to keep Scarlet’s words in the back of his mind. “I just meant that you should dream bigger. Don’t think about marrying me. Think about seeing the world. Lacey, you’re so smart. You could do anything you want. Don’t want that. Marriage ruins people. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want that for me.”
“He forgets and you let him by letting him blame me,” she looked up at him and locked eyes for the first time since he got here. “You let him call me those things and beat me over the head when I fight back. You let him basically tell him that he wins.” “I don’t want to just marry you. I want to start a business I want to do a lot of things, but I want you there with me,” she shook her head. “You don’t want to get married but you expect me to stick around. I’m supposed to love you with the thought that one day you get bored of me and you can just go and do to me what you did Harper,” she took another deep breath. “I don’t want to get married now, or even in three years, but I want it.”
Scott runs a hand through his hair again, a slow breath passing through his lips. There’s a lot of points he wants to tackle, but her eyes–fierce and determined on his–are distracting, and demanding for answers that he doesn’t have. She’s challenging him more than he ever expected. He isn’t ready.
“Harper always wins,” he groans. “That was one of the problems. There were so many problems, Lacey. I didn’t just wake up and get bored one day.”
His gaze falls, pulled down by guilt. Well, yeah…
“I like what we have now,” he says slowly. “It’s nice. With him, everything was a battle. But with us it’s easy–or so I thought.”
He clenches and releases his fists at his sides, wishing he had a stress ball, something to squeeze until he felt in control again.
“Lacey, I can’t give you a guarantee.” The words are pulled reluctantly from between his teeth. “Just like I can’t expect one from you. I don’t want to get married. I never have. It’s not that I’m ‘immature,’ or that I want to fuck around, or whatever. I just don’t. It’s a bad idea. And had I known you would be expecting me to marry you that night–” He knows better than to finish that sentence. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I love you, Lacey. And I’m serious about that. But I didn’t know we were at different levels of serious.”
Lacey could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but they didn’t drop from Scott’s. Maybe he would stand up for her to Harper, but she would never be permanently his, he could fuck around and leave at any point. She couldn’t do that, too many people in her life left.
“What? If nearly three years ago, when you decided to chest on your boyfriend with me, you had thought we would’ve ended up in a serious relationship where I want a future with you, you wouldn’t have done it? I don’t believe that. You’re impulsive and you saw what you wanted and took it,” she swallowed hard.
“I love you. Right now, we are the same level of serious, but…I will want that next level at some point in the future. Maybe it’s a year, or five, but I will want it. I could give you the guarantee that you’re all I want, but if we aren’t,” she choked up. “If we’re going to end up on different roads, there’s no point in continuing on this one.”
She stepped up to him and stood on her toes to kiss him gently, tears flowing down her cheeks freely now. “I love you, and I’m sorry loving you isn’t enough.”
Scott can hear it in her voice. He's upsetting her. This isn't really about Harper. It's about him.
"I still want you," he whispers.
--He can't go any louder. He's starting to feel like he can't breathe. Maybe he's drowning. Maybe he swam out too far into the ocean. HE'S IN TOO DEEP. He needs to get back to shallow water.
There's something heavy and invisible is pressing on his chest. What is this feeling? He's a man, he's been conditioned not to cry, but his chest is getting tight and his throat is starting to feel raw.
She's breaking up with him, for real this time. He should be relieved--he never wanted a place in this risky love business anyway--but instead, he's shaking. There's so much bubbling up inside him and he doesn't know how to analyze it all.
Her lips touch his, and he can taste the saltwater that's streaming down her cheeks. Maybe he really IS drowning. Is it possible for one person to be both the tide who pushes you out and the life vest that keeps you afloat? He doesn't know what he's supposed to do without the ocean. It's what he was raised on.
He presses the heels of his hands to his eyelids to keep his own potential waves from spilling out. "I'm sorry, I can't. I can't turn into my dad. I'm sorry."
The cycle continues endlessly in his mind. I can't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't.
"I love you, and I'm so sorry for making you cry."
i'm sorry i can't i love you i love you i can't i'm sorry
"I'll miss you."
i'm sorry i can't i love you i'll miss you i love you i love you i love you i--
He turns around and finds the door. He leaves.
She's shaking by the time he starts rambling, each word pulling her further and further apart, but she refuses to go to him. Her heart has already been stomped on.
"You wouldn't have been your father, but you would never have let yourself find out," it was the last thing she could say before her legs gave out. Her hands covered her face to mask her sobs, but it didn't work well. The only signal that he had actually left, was the silence, but that only crushed her further. Her lungs were being squeezed, her heart was beating out of her chest, and she wanted to vomit. But none of it mattered, she had pushed him away, and he had gone. She wasn't allowed to start regretting it yet. But she was.
(Envelope meme emoji, mobile sucks) To Lacey From Scott
Send me a ‘✉’ for five times my muse didn’t text yours, and one time they did. (here)
[Unsent, May 9th]: it didnt feel like a mistake[Unsent, June 3rd]: I keep finding myself regretting it for the wrong reasons. harper’s heartbroken, bray’s pissed. but i cant stop thinking about it. i cant stop thinking about you. [Unsent, July 17th]: it didn’t feel like cheating. i always thought cheaters were supposed to be heartless assholes with no souls, but i don’t feel like one, you know? it’s so strange. being with you just felt right. [Unsent, August 4th]: lacey ur soooopo hot and smrt. there’s nno way youll ever go for a stupd guyy like me[Unsent, September 8th]: i kept thinking that maybe things would be easier after summer vacation, but things are just as fucking awkward as they were before arent they?
