Work Text:
Cora
She said it. She actually said it. We both freeze, unsure of how to proceed from here. We were in the middle of a fight; she was saying that she doesn't like who I've become. I asked her why she doesn't just leave. And she yelled “because I love you.”
She moves first; she turns away from me, but I know her too well. I know that she's silently crying. I will myself to move, to comfort her, tell her that I love her too, but I'm rooted to where I stand. A few minutes, or maybe it's hours, pass in silence, with neither of us moving.
She quickly wipes her eyes, and faces me again. Then, with venom in her voice, says to me, “don't look at me like that. I know that you don't feel the same; know that you don't love me in that way. For both of our dignities, don't try to stop me from leaving, not after all that's happened.”
I can't say anything, before she leaves. I hear the door slam on her way out, which breaks the spell I had on me, making me stumble over to the couch. I flop down, numb to everything. I know that I should chase her, tell her that I do love her. But, at least for now, it would be useless. It would make things worse, she would think that I'm lying, that I'm being cruel; or maybe she would believe me, but know, by now, that I'm not worth the trouble I cause. Either way, I won't chase her.
I'll finally let her live her life; stop dragging her down with me. I fall asleep, thinking about how she'll be better off without me.
Myra
I said it. I didn't mean to, but I can't take it back. I was telling her that she needs to stop, that she's ruining her own life and upsetting everyone around her. She yelled back that she's not forcing any of us stay, asked why any of us stay if we're so miserable around her. And then I said it. I told her I loved her, almost letting it slip that I always have.
I turned away, unable to stop the tears that welled in my eyes. My fear of rejection is confirmed when she doesn't do anything; I had known for a long while that she would never feel the same, but the sting still hurts.
After a few silent minutes, I wipe my eyes and turn back around to see that she has put her mask back on; the one she wears around most people, but has never tried to fool me with. I guess everything has changed.
I gather what's left of my confidence around me, and in the steadiest voice I can manage I tell her not to look at me with pity and disgust in her eyes. That I know nothing would ever happen, and that she doesn't have to pretend to still like me. I instruct her to not stop me, not after all that's happened.
Then, with the last of my strength, I slammed the door and made it into my car before I started sobbing in earnest. I spend an hour in the car, before I can pull myself together enough to drive home; before I lie to myself that she'll try to stop me despite what I said.
She's never loved me, no. She's only used me as a shoulder to cry on, a loyal puppy who'll always follow. Well, this little puppy has finally grown up and bitten back. If she truly does love me, romantically or not, then she knows where to find me.