Hi, guys. It has been long, but it is finally here. I’m pretty happy to be posting this one and I hope you feel happy reading it.
There is going to be a part three, so stick around in case you like this one.
I have other stories if you want to check those out (i have to make a masterlist, but it easy to find them)
If you have a request or just want to chat send me an ask.
special tag @lullabieswrappedinlies
if you want to be tagged, let me know.
Before you jump in, be advised:
. There is some cursing words, some f-bombs.
. Consumption of alcohol.
"Morning guys." Dex greets enthusiastically, before bowing down to place a kiss on his bride-to-be's cheek.
You are staring too much, but you can't miss the view.
The gift of ignorance was a delicacy underappreciated, at least while it lasts. It would make you eternally grateful if Rachel could keep everything to herself till ten years later. She will be sitting at her fancy dinner table, arrived from France, laughing too much because of that one bottle of old wine, from another place in Europe, maybe from Spain, she won't remember quite well. Then after recovering from laughing, putting the last sip of wine on her glass, she will tell him the story. With a sad, mildly drunk expression, Dexter would stop laughing.
She smiles at him and goes back to reading the newspaper.
Rachel was good at this, controlled, on the surface, as a lawyer should be. It brings a mixture of fear and thankfulness, that hid underneath itself another problem that walked into the kitchen.
"Hey, just so you know, Claire is coming today, she just called." Her mouth moves and her eyes don't lookup.
Dex sighs and you get up with the last spoon of cereal still laying on your tongue. You take the bowl and go towards the sink, planning to stay a long time with your back turned.
It was visible the tiredness in his voice, tone low and deep, while you washed the white ceramic bowl in auto mode.
"Morning." Dex and Rachel responded together, laughing afterward.
A chair's screech filled the room before a previous subject arose again.
"So, she is really coming?"
"What, who is coming?" Now Ethan was worried too.
But why would he be worried about who was coming when he will be leaving tonight?
"Claire," Rachel says neutrally as before.
You place the bowl and the spoon carefully on the dish rack and spin back, spotting Ethan for the first time in the morning since you woke up to an empty bed.
He stares from the not very long distance, with no longevity, because you cut it right away going towards the door, a way out to the porch, out to where random people were laying in the sand.
Harsh winds of the morning shaping up weaves. You have to pay attention to that, to anything at all other than your head.
You sit at the wooden bench, that didn't quite match the rest of the design on the porch next to a luxurious white couch, a unique setting for a suffering old seat that didn't belong. The best guess, could it be someone's favorite? Why wouldn't they throw it away when they thought about putting a much better couch beside it? Why did it remind you of the ones in San Francisco?
"What the fuck am I thinking?"
"Am I interrupting something?"
Dex leans over, and your heart skips a beat from his sudden appearance.
He was observing. God knows for how long.
"No, I'm just thinking out loud, like a normal person."
He laughs, while you tried to shake the uncomfortable off, and takes a seat next to you.
The next thing was silence, what you observed to happen a lot when Dex would talk to anyone other than Rachel, something normal considering you two barely knew each other, but still. Dex was the type to slip under radar if it wasn't for his looks. He was quiet, polite, unlike the stereotypes set for someone on his position, he possessed some of the same traits Rachel had, good traits, that combined make them good people if you could only erase all the cheating behavior Ethan mentioned.
Now you see why his ex-fiancé wouldn't suspect them at all.
Yet, it was none of your business, and the only thing that kept you involved in this world was the one that wasn't sitting on this bench with you.
"It is a good view right?"
Dex asks, and it is clear that making small talk wasn't his thing, and you were on the same level right now. Smiles appear to compensate.
You breathe in, deep. It could be some type of nervous vibe easy to detect, hovering, or you were projecting.
"So, you and Ethan... You guys look good together."
Your mouth open's in surprise, genuine surprise.
Before advancing to a judgment that could compromise, you try to relax and answer as naturally as possible.
"Yeah, I thought he was... Nevermind-." Dex interrupts the took, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.
"Gay?" You completed with confidence, spotting a mix of surprise and discomfort in the way he smiled back.
"Yeah. To be fair, Ethan gives the vibe sometimes." You continued, knowing that Dex was probably confused, reminiscing Ethan's lie about being gay so Claire would leave him alone, and the fool never cleared it out before moving to London.
Something bumps into the door, somewhat aggressively, and the first thing you recognized was the hand.
"What are you guys gossiping about out here?"
Ethan comes out to the porch, exchanging looks towards you and Dex, taking the space left between the two of you.
"I was just saying to (y/n) that I think you two make a great couple."
Ethan responds, reclining his back against the bench and puts an arm around your neck. It is all that it takes to remind you why you escaped to the porch in the first place.
"And we were also talking about your gay vibes, babe."
"What?" He looks at you, confused.
"Yeah, like when you said you were gay to drive Claire away, like the mastermind player that you are. That is like, his thing Dex. He loves doing stuff like that-."
You incline forward to look at Dex, but Ethan blocks the view. His arm traps your body next to his chest, and you were obliged to stand up with him.
"Okay, babe. Do you want to take a walk on the beach? Hun? Dex, catch you later, bud." You don't resist since that at some point it all had to be addressed.
Ethan loosens the grip while you both were walking down the four steps. His hand travels down your arm slowly, and before you could cross them, he beats you by the timing and takes your hand.
You wait for a fair distance before taking your hand back.
Ethan asks. The audacity of the annoyed tone he used makes you start to walk faster in front of him.
"Does it matter? we are leaving tonight, right?"
You stopped and turned around. Ethan faces you with both hands on his hips. You waited for some confirmation that he was messing with you.
"Look, I talked to Rachel this morning, I apologized, and she decided to forget all it. It is going to be weird if I suddenly left. I'm her best friend."
"Oh, so that's why you left me this morning? To go talk to Rachel."
"I'm only trying to fix this, find an answer to make this right."
You complete the steps that separated both of you, being centimeters away from his face and the way he observed you.
"Look. Do what you want to do, every crazy pathetic thing you want, to get a woman that doesn't want you but don't use me and leave me like I'm nothing because I'm not your rebound anymore, Ethan."
You breathe in, feeling your chest rise and the beats of your heart multiply by the second. Suddenly there wasn't control over thoughts or words. Everything wanted to break loose.
"Are you even listening to yourself right now? 'I'm her best friend.' You mocked. " Stop using this bullshit to excuse what you are thinking. The answer is Dex, Rachel is not choosing you. She never did, not then and not now. You should do yourself a favor and get the fucking hint already Ethan."
You wanted to explode, wanted to scream. It wasn't the first time this same conversation took place between both of you, and yet, you were waiting for a different outcome that never happened before. It was useless. You saw it in his eyes. You saw it in the way he walked right past you and didn't look back.
There is something worse about positive emotions. Something buried underneath, and It's ugly, blinds you, makes you live in denial for a very long time, till it turns the question 'What the fuck am I doing?', into a daily mantra from a bad religion.
I asked this more times than it is possible to count. I asked a thousand times while I was doing my bags, and another thousand while I was on the plane watching (y/n) asleep. I asked it again for a couple more thousand times when I saw Rachel, and since then it has been a background sound for my thoughts, the usual ones she belonged.
Her face. Her laugh, ever-living memories, that insisted themselves on my central vision like jumping ghosts, obliging me to keep feeding my brain with any distraction. Sinking myself with work till numbness almost did the thing, but the closest I came to the remedy was (y/n).
That one night, I went out to the bar on my block, not feeling like me anymore after diagnosing myself with derealization through a quick search on google. The impression of furniture moving convinced me to run away from the claustrophobic place that became that apartment.
It all happened at some time past one in the morning, at the right time and place to meet someone like her, someone very different from me. I guess, just what I need it.
The crisp vision of things gives you a perspective, but she never centered around only one thing. (Y/N) was always in movement while I was still ruminating about Rachel and what I couldn't let go.
When the post-coital conversation started flowing, after weeks of our same scheme passed by, I realized that not everything was cold with (y/n), only the way she perceived love. The way she rolled her eyes when I talked about it, but not the way she makes it, which can make one confused at first and be careful at least.
I had reasons to strongly believed in my immunity because I knew I was still in love with Rachel. That was what my brain reminded me on the daily, being in love with an unavailable person was becoming a personality trait instead of a problem to be dealt with it, and it was that I accepted. Only at San Francisco, when I made no attempts to contact Rachel, I realized too late that I had mixed the medicine with alcohol, and now they had the same effect.
All of the past mess, mixing with the habit of sweeping things under the rug, made me start thinking about ending everything. Still, a burden compounded with a miracle came when we got back from San Francisco, and we discovered to be new working partners. The universe seemed to have done everything for me, except providing the answer I was still looking for when Rachel's wedding invitation arrived. I was about to mix the medicine with alcohol all over again.
When they hugged at the airport, my stomach ran laps. 'What the fuck am I doing?'. The mantra comes back again.
"Can I take your order, sir?"
A redhead girl, holding a notepad, appeared next to the table I occupied. Her Blythe doll eyes blinking at me.
How long was she there while I rewind all the past regrets only God knows.
"Sorry. I'm... I'm waiting for someone before ordering."
I simulate my way out of the situation with a smile. My wallet was at home, and it was a good thing because it was too early to drink something distilled.
"Oh, okay. I'll just leave the menu here."
She left two menus over the white cloth before leaving with a condescending smile.
I decided to spare some time. I faked looking at my clock and looking around at random times as if I waited for someone very tardy before I left the table. The Blythe doll eyes must be cursing me, and I deserve it.
The sun outside, hitting my eyes was already alarming hot, or London made me a stranger to the feeling of warmth. I look behind me, but there is only the bridge, and random people passing by.
It felt familiar to the place where Rachel and I spend time together, but like everything else after a while became a blur under what happened that night.
I can replay it quickly while continuing to walk with no destination.
It happened when Rachel smiled and ordered a Heineken. I was explaining the order to myself, controlling my eyes and planing my words, usually with gastric reflux would be burning the walls of my stomach, but now the house was quiet.
I was alone with her, after years, after long years and miserable scenarios played inside my head, and now there was total silence, the silence of death.
Rachel asked, still smiling, brightly, I loved that fucking smile, I loved.
