that’s the reason why i seem so far away today

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real eyes realise real lies heart eyes salty fries sunny skies very wise 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[This post has been edited.]

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But then his body language changed. Slowly, then all at once, his face twisting into a grimace as he stated that he couldn't do this.

"Oh." she managed, feeling as though all the air was knocked out of her.

Gigi was polite when she ought not to be. Despite being raised in a group of wild, feral girls with ambitions that refused to be pushed down, she was always the one biting her tongue. When she felt herself want to cry at the bitterness of the world, she looked to her Ma. Her Ma, who was always so calm, and never looked like she wanted to scream. The women in her life had made her the woman she was today - all proper social conventions and turning the other cheek and forcing a smile, even when confronted with a situation as horrible as the one she was in now.

She pictured the scenes of all her favorite movies - Andie and Ben having their showdown in the middle of an important party, Harry and Sally at New Year's - and knew she had too much propriety to make a scene. However much she wanted to. It wasn't the kind of girl she was. Besides, she'd forfeited any right to make a scene. She wasn't the wronged party.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to be nice." she mumbled, the word nice feeling like bile in her throat. She was always trying so hard to be so sweet, and proper, and nice. But there was nothing nice about her.

"It was inappropriate, I'm sorry." she said, wincing at her second apology. "For what it's worth, I really do wish you well."

“I know,” he said, trying to be understanding when she pointed out she was just trying to be nice. 

It just so happened that Gigi’s attempts at being nice were exactly the problem. Griff had never had a problem with civility until it wore the face of the girl he loved. 

He supposed it was nice of her to wish him well, and he found himself trying to find the words to express the same sentiment to her, but they wouldn’t come. It wasn’t because he didn’t wish Gigi well. There’d been no speaking ill of her in the months following their break-up, no matter how much JJ and even Blair had encouraged him to speak his mind. The truth was, he’d simply accepted that Gigi had shown him her true colours and he hadn’t had the right paintbrush. Nothing beautiful could become of them after that.

He tightened his grip on the glass, grounding himself and listening to the sounds of people mingling in his periphery. It was difficult to remember he was in a crowded room full of other people. The only one he’d ever wanted the attention of was right in front of him and he no longer knew how to act around her.

“I’m just not sure I’m ready for… being nice.” He forced the words out like each syllable cost something. He pressed his lips in a thin line after, shaking his head.

Perhaps a stronger man would have been able to stand there and exchange pleasantries with his ex. But Griff was used to talking about the mysteries of the universe with Gigi, about his hopes for his modern classic, about the plays she would star in one day. Now he was condemned to making small talk about the weather and that was a feat that seemed nigh impossible.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, staring down at the liquid in his glass. “It’s just… too soon.”

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