Rachel doesn't go straight home after being walked out on in the bar. She stands there for a few moments, trying not to burst into tears in front of God and everyone in the bar. And then she plops right back down on the couch and spends another half-hour finishing off the little bit of tequila left in the bottle. She writes Adrian a note in her journal, gets the bartender to call her a tab, and then she heads home.
She has the driver drop her at an address about four blocks shy of her new home--one she fully expects to be expelled from after an accounting of the evening's fuckups--and she walks the rest of the way, letting the cool night air clear her head a bit. It helps, some. But by the time she lets herself into their apartment, she's still pale, still quietly on edge, still trying very hard not to cry.
And none of that is helped by the sight of Adrian perched tensely on the couch, staring out the windows. Her stomach twists so hard, so fast, for a moment she's afraid she's going to throw up before she ever makes her way over to him.
She drops her keys and bag on the table, and she wanders across the floor, moving to stand behind the couch, behind Adrian.
"...Hi," she breathes, too afraid to say anything else just yet.
"Hi," he says, looking up and back at her, worry creasing the smile he tries to give her.
She smells like alcohol again. Guilt chases on the heels of sudden jealousy, the question of whether or not she was out again with someone he doesn't know and doesn't know about. It's not fair to her, to think or act that way. She has friends, and he's glad, and he's been inattentive enough lately that he can't expect to know everywhere she's going and with whom. Besides that's not-- He doesn't need to know that. He missed the anniversary of her father's death, let it pass without a word or an attempt at comfort, just because of his own distraction. "Are you okay?"
He hates the thought of her getting drunk alone even more than himself for being jealous in the first place. He hates the thought of her getting drunk because she misses home or her father or because she's lonely. He hates--god, he hates everything right now, in that twisted and panic-stricken way that is sure it's somehow his fault.
That smile breaks Rachel's heart in two. That's all Rachel ever wanted, was to see Adrian happy. And after begging him to give her the opportunity to be that for him... she's going to yank it out from under him.
She doesn't want to. She wants to lie like she always does, paste on a smile and tell him it's okay, it'll all be okay, it'll always be okay. She wants to crawl onto the couch and curl up in his arms and forget everything.
But she loves him too much to ever lie to him. She respects him too much to ever play him for a fool. As much as this is going to hurt... Rachel needs to tell him the truth.
She shakes her head in response, still hovering behind the couch, its back serving as an accidental barrier between them. "I'm not," she says, her voice cracking. "I need to tell you something, Adrian. I've... I've fucked everything up, ever. I owe you an apology, and an explanation. And I'll take whatever you decide needs to come of it. I just..."
She wants so much to just reach out, touch his cheek, hold his hand, anything... but she no longer feels like she has the right. And it's possibly unnecessary cruelty to be tender right before she tells him she's betrayed him, in spirit if not in fact.
He reaches up toward her, shifts so he can see her better, and then lets his hand fall. He knew it was this. He wonders if maybe he wanted to tell her about Jason just to distract her, to make her angry or upset, to keep her from confessing the obvious.
What did I do wrong?
And what can he say? 'It's not your fault', 'I don't care', 'Whatever it is, it doesn't matter'? "Please sit," he says, pleading. It's all that comes out. Like somehow if she just comes closer it will be okay.
Rachel blinks down at him for a moment, and then she nods. She moves wordlessly around the couch, perching beside Adrian--close, but not too close, hands folded in her lap.
She wishes that were the case, too, that if she just came closer it'd all be okay, but coming closer only makes the crushing ache in her chest that much stronger, makes getting air in that much more of a painful effort. She can't hold it together anymore; tears roll down her cheeks as she studies his face.
"I love you," she says, her voice choked with emotion. "I think I have from the moment I met you. I've told you over and over that I'll always love you, and I mean that. I do, Adrian, more than anything. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't ever want you to think you've failed me or not done enough for me or not been enough for me. It's not true. It's just... I'm a mess and I'm no good at getting this shit right. I never have been. It's me, mijo. Not you. Never you."
She scrubs at her face with a hand. But she can't hide from this; she needs to face him, own up to what she's done. She forces herself to sit up straighter, to look Adrian in the eyes. "I was out with a friend earlier tonight. He's... never going to speak to me again. I fucked up. I... I tried to kiss him. I meant it. I'm sorry..."
The words are painfully true, he thinks, before the guilt comes crashing back in to fill the brief space bitterness carved. She's not-- He shouldn't be--
It's Rachel. Even with the look on her face, the way her voice twists like it's just in her grip and one tug shy of breaking, even if she says her friend will never speak to her again--good, and there's the guilt gnawing inside out--he can't help feeling like she wants to leave.
I love you, but I found someone else.
Maybe this is what Mag felt like when he told her, finally, the truth about Natalia. Maybe he forgives her, just a little bit. He runs one thumb over the back of his hand, back and forth, quiet and obsessive. He has to ask because he has to know, even if the thought of her leaving--
Rachel lets out a heaving sigh and leans forward, elbows on her knees, heels of her hands dug into her eyes.
"I don't know, mijo. I mean. I don't want to leave you... but that's not up to me anymore. That's your call. I don't..."
Her voice breaks, and she stops speaking, taking a few deep breaths to try to regain some composure. Rachel scrubs at her face with her hands, and sits back, smoothing back her hair, her gaze pointedly fixed on the view outside and not at Adrian. Not because she doesn't want to look at him; because she knows she can't get through this without breaking down if she looks at him.
"I love you, Adrian. That's all I've ever wanted to do, was love you, take care of you, try to make you happy. But I'm a mess. And I don't think about what I'm doing. I screw up, like, a lot. Like tonight--I've gone and screwed everything up. I lost my friend and I probably am about to lose you in the process, and if that's true I won't argue, because I have that coming. Because this is not what you signed up for, this is not what you agreed to."
She draws her knees up to her chest, hugging them miserably, looking for all the world like the small child she frequently still feels herself to be. The same child who was a parent more than she ever had one, the same child who grew up thinking love and approval were things you had to earn by subverting yourself, your own feelings, your opposition to the shitty way you were frequently treated.
"I didn't stop loving you. I never have. I never will." The words are almost a plea. "That's not how I am. I love too deeply, too hard... too much, sometimes. I haven't thrown you aside for someone else. But... the fact remains that I love somebody else, too. And that's not fair to you and I'm sorry, I really am."
She chokes out... maybe it was meant to be a rueful chuckle but it sounds rather more pained, rather more broken. "Not like it matters. I screwed up that friendship and he's never speaking to me again. He just..." Again, but this time the sound couldn't even be imagined to have been a laugh. "He couldn't get away from me fast enough. You should've seen it. I deserved it."
She falls silent, and stays that way a long time, looking out at the city below, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally speaks again, it's barely a whisper, too afraid is she that she won't hold it together if she tries any harder.
"I don't want to leave. But that's not my call anymore. That's up to you. I'm sorry to dump this all on you. But I love you and respect you too much to lie to you or hide things from you. I'll stay if you'll still have me, or I'll go if you'd rather not. I guess it depends on what you can live with. If you still can tolerate me knowing this, knowing how I feel. All I can promise you is that I still love you as much as I ever did, still need you, still want you. I didn't stop or change my mind because of him. I don't even know if that makes any fucking sense, but that's how I feel. I don't know how you feel, though. I need you to tell me. Now, later, whenever. If you need time to think, figure things out, it's yours. Just tell me what you need."
"I love you," he says, before she's quite finished talking. It hurts, how true it is, how much he wants to make things okay for her. He's up and shifting to fill the gap between them and pull her close. It's awkward, his arms pinning hers and his face against her back, each point of contact rough and uncomfortable. But he needs her in his arms, needs her not to leave.
This, right here, is what he needs. "I love you, and that is not even--never would be a question, mija. You--I wish I could be like you. Beautiful, beautiful girl."
Rachel falls apart then, unraveling completely, her body heaving with sobs. Her chest hurts, full to bursting with a jumble of emotions she can't sort out, and all she can do is cry. She lets her back rest against Adrian's body, but she leans forward, over his arms, raising her hands to cover her face.
It's a good five minutes before the sobbing subsides enough for her to get deep enough breaths in again to speak. Rachel shifts, sliding her arms out from her sides, resting them over Adrian's where they cross her body, pressing his into her belly. She lifts her head and lets it fall back onto his shoulder.
"I've never set out to hurt you," she says, her voice both soft and rough. "And I can't promise I won't do it again. I love you, so much. I always will. And I do promise that won't ever change or go away or be less, no matter what the hell I do, or say. No matter who comes or goes from my life, or how I feel about them, or whatever stupid things I get myself into. I will always love you, and always need you, and always want to be with you, and I can only pray that you can always find it in your heart to forgive me. Because no matter what happens I want you here. I can't imagine what my life would be without you in it and I don't ever want to find out. I love you."
He stops clinging and just rests against her, feeling tired. And... disappointed, somehow. Not in her statements, himself--he can't put his finger on it. It still feels somehow like he's failed, like something has broken down and can't quite be what it was. Even if he loves her. Even if he always, always will, even if as long as she wants him he'll stay.
Rachel shakes her head slowly. It's not that he can't, or that she doesn't want him to, desperately. She just knows she's failed and betrayed Adrian, for all the ways she's trying so hard to lessen the blow.
"I don't have the right to ask you for anything anymore, Adrian," she says, drawing his arms closer around her body. "I don't. I've come in here and torn away everything I promised you I'd give you, without warning, without your consent. I'm in no position to ask for anything again. All I can do is throw myself on the mercy of whatever you're willing to give."
"Don't," he says, suddenly and unexpectedly, even for himself. Don't make him think, choose, judge, deny. He draws away, just a fraction. It hurts to do it.
Just do what you want to, he wants to say. Just do what you want, and let me deal with whatever's left over.
It was easier when all he had to do was please her, make her happy, when he could tell her things and spend the rest of the time in service to that simple goal.
She knows she's earned it, and, quite frankly, she's surprised it didn't come sooner.
That doesn't make it sting any less when she feels Adrian pull away.
"I... okay." She sits up straighter, letting her arms fall to her sides. If he doesn't want her near, she won't cling anymore, that's fine. "I understand. I... won't."
Rachel reaches up with both hands and smooths her hair back from her face, trying to pull herself back together.
Adrian shakes his head. He's not even sure himself. He wants to say it's because he loves her. Because it doesn't matter. Because it's all going to be okay. All he can do is shake his head again. "There's no point."
He covers his face again. "I didn't mean--I don't know what I mean."
She has the driver drop her at an address about four blocks shy of her new home--one she fully expects to be expelled from after an accounting of the evening's fuckups--and she walks the rest of the way, letting the cool night air clear her head a bit. It helps, some. But by the time she lets herself into their apartment, she's still pale, still quietly on edge, still trying very hard not to cry.
And none of that is helped by the sight of Adrian perched tensely on the couch, staring out the windows. Her stomach twists so hard, so fast, for a moment she's afraid she's going to throw up before she ever makes her way over to him.
She drops her keys and bag on the table, and she wanders across the floor, moving to stand behind the couch, behind Adrian.
"...Hi," she breathes, too afraid to say anything else just yet.
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She smells like alcohol again. Guilt chases on the heels of sudden jealousy, the question of whether or not she was out again with someone he doesn't know and doesn't know about. It's not fair to her, to think or act that way. She has friends, and he's glad, and he's been inattentive enough lately that he can't expect to know everywhere she's going and with whom. Besides that's not-- He doesn't need to know that. He missed the anniversary of her father's death, let it pass without a word or an attempt at comfort, just because of his own distraction. "Are you okay?"
He hates the thought of her getting drunk alone even more than himself for being jealous in the first place. He hates the thought of her getting drunk because she misses home or her father or because she's lonely. He hates--god, he hates everything right now, in that twisted and panic-stricken way that is sure it's somehow his fault.
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She doesn't want to. She wants to lie like she always does, paste on a smile and tell him it's okay, it'll all be okay, it'll always be okay. She wants to crawl onto the couch and curl up in his arms and forget everything.
But she loves him too much to ever lie to him. She respects him too much to ever play him for a fool. As much as this is going to hurt... Rachel needs to tell him the truth.
She shakes her head in response, still hovering behind the couch, its back serving as an accidental barrier between them. "I'm not," she says, her voice cracking. "I need to tell you something, Adrian. I've... I've fucked everything up, ever. I owe you an apology, and an explanation. And I'll take whatever you decide needs to come of it. I just..."
She wants so much to just reach out, touch his cheek, hold his hand, anything... but she no longer feels like she has the right. And it's possibly unnecessary cruelty to be tender right before she tells him she's betrayed him, in spirit if not in fact.
"I love you. And I'm so sorry."
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What did I do wrong?
And what can he say? 'It's not your fault', 'I don't care', 'Whatever it is, it doesn't matter'? "Please sit," he says, pleading. It's all that comes out. Like somehow if she just comes closer it will be okay.
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She wishes that were the case, too, that if she just came closer it'd all be okay, but coming closer only makes the crushing ache in her chest that much stronger, makes getting air in that much more of a painful effort. She can't hold it together anymore; tears roll down her cheeks as she studies his face.
"I love you," she says, her voice choked with emotion. "I think I have from the moment I met you. I've told you over and over that I'll always love you, and I mean that. I do, Adrian, more than anything. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't ever want you to think you've failed me or not done enough for me or not been enough for me. It's not true. It's just... I'm a mess and I'm no good at getting this shit right. I never have been. It's me, mijo. Not you. Never you."
She scrubs at her face with a hand. But she can't hide from this; she needs to face him, own up to what she's done. She forces herself to sit up straighter, to look Adrian in the eyes. "I was out with a friend earlier tonight. He's... never going to speak to me again. I fucked up. I... I tried to kiss him. I meant it. I'm sorry..."
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The words are painfully true, he thinks, before the guilt comes crashing back in to fill the brief space bitterness carved. She's not-- He shouldn't be--
It's Rachel. Even with the look on her face, the way her voice twists like it's just in her grip and one tug shy of breaking, even if she says her friend will never speak to her again--good, and there's the guilt gnawing inside out--he can't help feeling like she wants to leave.
I love you, but I found someone else.
Maybe this is what Mag felt like when he told her, finally, the truth about Natalia. Maybe he forgives her, just a little bit. He runs one thumb over the back of his hand, back and forth, quiet and obsessive. He has to ask because he has to know, even if the thought of her leaving--
He can't take the thought of her leaving.
"What do you want to do?"
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Rachel lets out a heaving sigh and leans forward, elbows on her knees, heels of her hands dug into her eyes.
"I don't know, mijo. I mean. I don't want to leave you... but that's not up to me anymore. That's your call. I don't..."
Her voice breaks, and she stops speaking, taking a few deep breaths to try to regain some composure. Rachel scrubs at her face with her hands, and sits back, smoothing back her hair, her gaze pointedly fixed on the view outside and not at Adrian. Not because she doesn't want to look at him; because she knows she can't get through this without breaking down if she looks at him.
"I love you, Adrian. That's all I've ever wanted to do, was love you, take care of you, try to make you happy. But I'm a mess. And I don't think about what I'm doing. I screw up, like, a lot. Like tonight--I've gone and screwed everything up. I lost my friend and I probably am about to lose you in the process, and if that's true I won't argue, because I have that coming. Because this is not what you signed up for, this is not what you agreed to."
She draws her knees up to her chest, hugging them miserably, looking for all the world like the small child she frequently still feels herself to be. The same child who was a parent more than she ever had one, the same child who grew up thinking love and approval were things you had to earn by subverting yourself, your own feelings, your opposition to the shitty way you were frequently treated.
"I didn't stop loving you. I never have. I never will." The words are almost a plea. "That's not how I am. I love too deeply, too hard... too much, sometimes. I haven't thrown you aside for someone else. But... the fact remains that I love somebody else, too. And that's not fair to you and I'm sorry, I really am."
She chokes out... maybe it was meant to be a rueful chuckle but it sounds rather more pained, rather more broken. "Not like it matters. I screwed up that friendship and he's never speaking to me again. He just..." Again, but this time the sound couldn't even be imagined to have been a laugh. "He couldn't get away from me fast enough. You should've seen it. I deserved it."
She falls silent, and stays that way a long time, looking out at the city below, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally speaks again, it's barely a whisper, too afraid is she that she won't hold it together if she tries any harder.
"I don't want to leave. But that's not my call anymore. That's up to you. I'm sorry to dump this all on you. But I love you and respect you too much to lie to you or hide things from you. I'll stay if you'll still have me, or I'll go if you'd rather not. I guess it depends on what you can live with. If you still can tolerate me knowing this, knowing how I feel. All I can promise you is that I still love you as much as I ever did, still need you, still want you. I didn't stop or change my mind because of him. I don't even know if that makes any fucking sense, but that's how I feel. I don't know how you feel, though. I need you to tell me. Now, later, whenever. If you need time to think, figure things out, it's yours. Just tell me what you need."
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This, right here, is what he needs. "I love you, and that is not even--never would be a question, mija. You--I wish I could be like you. Beautiful, beautiful girl."
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It's a good five minutes before the sobbing subsides enough for her to get deep enough breaths in again to speak. Rachel shifts, sliding her arms out from her sides, resting them over Adrian's where they cross her body, pressing his into her belly. She lifts her head and lets it fall back onto his shoulder.
"I've never set out to hurt you," she says, her voice both soft and rough. "And I can't promise I won't do it again. I love you, so much. I always will. And I do promise that won't ever change or go away or be less, no matter what the hell I do, or say. No matter who comes or goes from my life, or how I feel about them, or whatever stupid things I get myself into. I will always love you, and always need you, and always want to be with you, and I can only pray that you can always find it in your heart to forgive me. Because no matter what happens I want you here. I can't imagine what my life would be without you in it and I don't ever want to find out. I love you."
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"Is there anything I can do?"
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"I don't have the right to ask you for anything anymore, Adrian," she says, drawing his arms closer around her body. "I don't. I've come in here and torn away everything I promised you I'd give you, without warning, without your consent. I'm in no position to ask for anything again. All I can do is throw myself on the mercy of whatever you're willing to give."
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Just do what you want to, he wants to say. Just do what you want, and let me deal with whatever's left over.
It was easier when all he had to do was please her, make her happy, when he could tell her things and spend the rest of the time in service to that simple goal.
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She knows she's earned it, and, quite frankly, she's surprised it didn't come sooner.
That doesn't make it sting any less when she feels Adrian pull away.
"I... okay." She sits up straighter, letting her arms fall to her sides. If he doesn't want her near, she won't cling anymore, that's fine. "I understand. I... won't."
Rachel reaches up with both hands and smooths her hair back from her face, trying to pull herself back together.
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Rachel shifts forward, sitting properly now, legs dangling off the couch. "I'd be pissed off at me, in your place. I don't understand why you're not."
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He covers his face again. "I didn't mean--I don't know what I mean."
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