She should have known the day that she entered into that … situation, that it was bound to end in heartbreak. Nothing about it was conventional, but what even was conventional these days? You didn't meet people outside of work all that often, and she'd always had an adventurous spirit. Sometimes, to her own detriment. She didn't mean for things to progress as they did. It was friendship, with tension and some history sure, but friendship nonetheless. She'd told him point blank once, that she was more attracted to his girlfriend than she was to him. It wasn't said to be mean, but just laughing about the fact. When he'd told her that the pair of them had broken up, her immediate thought was "what am I supposed to do with that information?" Maybe it should have been telling back then, all those many months before the end, that her initial reaction was one of slight panic, even pressure. It was not at all on his end, but it was all on hers. She just wasn't sure, but hey, the sex was great. Funny how something stupid like that could cast aside doubts getting in over her head.
He was attentive. He was kind. He infuriated her. He was patient. He was everything that she should want. He even had the added bonus of being someone she knew her family wouldn't entirely approve of. She loved the look on her mother's face when reaching out to shake the tattooed man's hand. She almost laughed out loud when it looked like her mother feared if tattoos were contagious. It took her right back to the scolding she got at eighteen when she'd revealed her first of what would come to be several.
Nothing was wrong, and that was the problem. There wasn't a huge deal breaker moment. There wasn't something she found out that she didn't like. There was no infidelity on either of their part's.
It started with little arguments. He wanted her to stay with him in New York. She was attached to her place in Los Angeles. She didn't like the idea of moving into his space … she felt like she would be giving up a lot of her freedom, and she just wasn't willing to do that. The tension between them grew by the week it seemed. She liked him so much, but she knew that he was growing increasingly attached, increasingly possessive. She knew that was because he had to feel her pulling away. It was so stupid, how the nail in their proverbial coffin would be the confession of love. She trusted him, which was huge … but she didn't love him back. The realization filled her with such a sense of dread that it kept her awake at night. It gave her anxiety. It made her want to run, far and fast. She felt pressure, even if he promised there wasn't any of that. She trumped it up so much in her head, she felt like every time they said anything to each other, what she wouldn't say hung in the air between them. It made her miserable. It suffocated her.
In the end, it came down to her. She wouldn't fight through it. She wasn't willing to put in the effort because she knew herself. She knew what she wanted, and as wonderful as he had been to her, he wasn't it. Being strong enough to admit that to herself, and eventually to him, was a terrible experience but necessary. She didn't mourn the end of their relationship as harshly as she thought she would. She missed the companionship. She missed his friendship more than anything … but she was willing to give him the space she knew he needed.
It came down to the fact that if she was going to trust someone with her heart, she had to have zero doubts. She had to be sure.
What surprised her the most was how natural everything felt. Laughing with her until tears fell down her cheeks and her stomach hurt, over some stupid inside joke they'd made up. As they sat together in Fiona's house, it hit her like a ton of bricks. It was one of those sick feelings that wasn't unpleasant. She hadn't felt anything like that since she was in high school; a kind of panic that excited her. I like my friend. No, I'm really REALLY into my friend. Everything about her left Fiona feeling enraptured, intrigued, excited. She didn't know what to do with herself, not having felt this way in such a long time. Suddenly it felt like every hug lingered a little too long. Friendly hand holding or looped arms brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. Jokes seemed to take on a more serious edge, and she wondered. She wondered if a joke was just a joke. She'd never been more relieved in her life to find out that her feelings weren't unfounded.
Everything moved so fast, yet didn't feel like it. New York was her new home because of work, but that just left them closer together for much of the time. When her girlfriend's extra things were piled up in her New York apartment, she welcomed it. No, they weren't moving in together, but she made the space that she needed. Gladly.
Flights were taken despite exhaustion, just to spend special days with each other. Birthdays, premieres, times when they'd been apart for more than a couple of weeks. Fiona had never felt dependent on another person, and she still didn't in a negative way. The difference was how much she wanted to be with her. It never felt like a chore. It never felt like she was fighting, but just existing in her most natural state. She wondered if this was what it meant to have a partner, in a way. She'd never entirely believed in the flowery bullshit of mainstream romance, but she began to understand the desire to put forth that kind of effort.
Five months later, and it was their ability to communicate so candidly that kept her feeling so secure in their relationship. Neither of them got jealous. Neither of them craved drama. Neither of them felt the need to create problems with each other. It was the antithesis of boring, but it was still comfortable. Arguments didn't worry her, because she knew they trusted each other to come through on the other side, stronger. She didn't bite her tongue when confessing that it surprised her how naturally everything came to them. She freely opened up at how new it felt that she didn't feel the need to find a reason to run. The more surprising thing was that she didn't look for the exit routes at all.
Maybe they weren't to the place of real, deep talks about their future together in so many words. They didn't lie in bed together fantasizing about weddings and kids, a house in the country or a brownstone in the city. There was no rush. Fiona just knew, and was reminded day in and day out, that she had been waiting her life for this, for finding her person. Five months in, and she was looking forward to the next five months, the next five years. The absence of a panic attack at the mere thought of those things spoke volumes to her.
She'd never been more sure of anything, anyone in her life.