bigger than these bones

jasey lets herself in and sets the take out she picked up on the way over on the counter. she can hear the shower running in the distance and wonders how long he’ll be before deciding she might as well get everything plated up. she makes her way around the kitchen with practiced ease, pulling out plates and utensils and some of sauce packets he keeps stashed in the junk drawer. she’s just finished making his plate when she hears the water turn off and smiles at how perfect her timing seems to be.

eli pads into the kitchen a minute or two later, still toweling off his hair, sweats hanging low on his waist, no shirt in sight. “wow, you really got a spread.”

“you said you were hungry!” she explains, picking up his plate and offering it to him. “and look, i even made sure nothin’ was touchin’.”

he takes the plate and sure enough, she’s left the perfect amount of space between each item. he doesn’t remember ever telling her he doesn’t like food touching, she must have noticed on her own. “thank you,” he says sincerely. “game’s about to start, we should eat in the living room.”

“oh, yeah. let me make my plate and i’ll be right in.” but he’s already half way to the living room before she finishes saying it. she shakes it off and finishes making her plate. he’s going through things she can’t even imagine, he’s allowed to be a little off sometimes.

she walks into the living room and he’s already on the edge of his seat, watching a game that started literal seconds ago, plate held up to make it easier to watch and eat all at once. she takes her spot on the couch with him, close but not too close, and tries to pay attention to the game. they don’t talk much while the game is on, except to make comments on plays or what the team should be doing, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. there’s no need to fill the silence. she clears their plates some time during the half and settles in a little closer when she comes back into the room. she has her hand on his thigh and he drapes his arm over the back of the couch behind her. it’s easy. it makes sense. it fits.

“so,” she starts when the game is over, really drawing it out, “i was thinkin’ maybe we could go to the party at gabe’s bar together on friday.” she turns to face him on the couch as she brings it up, watching to see his reaction.

“huh?” he asks, even though he’s heard her. he’s just not sure why she’s asking.

“i thought we could go together on friday. don’t you think it’s been long enough that we could tell people?” she’s tried to be patient, but it’s been months now, how long are they supposed to keep this quiet?

“tell people what, jasey?”

“that we’re together, eli. obviously. what else would we be tellin’?”

“but we’re not?” he says it like a question, but he means it like a statement.

jasey stares at him, mouth hanging open. there’s no way she heard that right. absolutely no way. “what the fuck do you mean we’re not?”

“that we aren’t together, that we aren’t dating.”

she swallows, trying desperately to ignore the sting in her eyes. “i’ve been here every night this week. i know the code to your door. i know the way you like your food plated and what not to order for you at the restaurant. your little sister talks to me more than she talks to you. i’ve cooked for you, i’ve helped you around this place, i fuckin’ know how to put all your laundry away. hell, i put my own laundry away here. all my shower stuff is here. what the fuck do you mean, eli? what the fuck is that if not datin’? you’re really gonna sit there and tell me that’s not what we’re doing?”

“yes, jasey, i am. we’ve been hanging out. we’ve been hooking up, i never asked for any of the extra stuff. that’s not what this is. at least not for me.” he realizes now that maybe he’s let this go too long, let it go too far, but it was…nice. it was comforting. it was something he could let himself sink into to stop feeling so fucking awful for a second.

she takes a deep breath and she can hear it shuddering more than she feels it. it’s almost like she doesn’t feel anything, it’s all too much. “you’re a fuckin’ asshole. i cannot believe you right now.”

“jasey…” he trails off because well, what can he say that won’t make this worse?

“don’t you jasey me right now. you had to know how i felt. you had to know and you let me carry on? do you know…” she stops and fuck, she’s crying. she wipes furiously at her eyes. “there aren’t words for this.” she stands, looking around for her phone. “this is…you’re fucked up. how could you do this? it’s been months like this, months.” she stops as she thinks about it for a second. the anniversary is coming up in about two weeks. “i’ve been comin’ around steady for almost a year.”

he tenses. he knows exactly how long it’s been. he doesn’t need any reminders. he certainly doesn’t need or want her bringing adam into this, even in the abstract. he’s no longer worried about trying to spare her feelings, he’s trying to stop his own. “and i never told you we were anything more that whole time.” not a lie, but he never did anything to stop what she was doing, to discourage her from building her life around his.

“you also never said this was nothin’. you never tried to stop any of the extra stuff. you let me parade around here, fallin’ in love with…” she trails off, the words tasting sour and acidic in her mouth. she feels like they’re choking her; she wants to rip them out. she finally finds her phone and snatches it up. “you’re a fuckin’ monster, eli.”

“that’s not fair,” he argues, his emotions too close to the surface now. he stands, watching her, trying to figure out if she’s leaving, trying to figure out if there’s any possible way to try and fix this.

“not fair? not fuckin’ fair?” the rage that bubbles up inside her is all consuming. “not fair is what you did when you let me give myself a drawer,” she says, pointing at him. “not fair is every fuckin’ time you called me to come over here,” she adds, taking a step closer. “not fair is every single fuckin’ thing you’ve done since the accident, you absolute piece of shit,” she all but spits at him, poking him in the chest.

he leans down with a look that could kill on his face. “that’s a low fucking blow and you know it. you know how hard that was on me.”

“yeah, i do because I was the one who helped you through it! i was the one makin’ sure you were good. i was the one who took care of you when you gave up and got you through to the other side. and you’re standing there tellin’ it wasn’t anything to you but hangin’ out and hookin’ up?”

it hits him like a sucker punch to the gut when she says it like that. there’s no coming back from this. there’s no defense, nothing he can say to explain himself will make this better for her. he should apologize, he should try and do something but what comes out is, “i think you should go.”