Three's A Crowd

Fifty Eight | The Lines Between Us

Chris stared at his phone, the words he typed just three minutes ago taunting him to get off his ass and see you. He was all the way back in Massachusetts, and your birthday celebration at (m/n)'s was going to start soon, hell, it must've already started.

But you still wanted him there.

That had to be a sign, right?

Lisa and Scott had thought he'd follow up, make a grand entrance on the exact day of your birthday, but he didn't show, and he knew they'd be disappointed. He didn't tell them about the kiss you shared with Sebastian... and he definitely didn't tell you or Sebastian that he saw it, as much as he wanted someone to talk to, someone to vent out to.

The argument you had with Sebastian made him put the confession on hold. You were vulnerable and just heartbroken to whatever happened in that hallway; he didn't need his confession to force you to double up your efforts in sorting all the shit that was on your plate. Then came promotion and press for AOU.

He was all ready to see you that night, having waited the rest of the hour outside his balcony, getting the perfect view of the car that you and Lizzie had rode in pull up at the curb. He glanced back at the bouquet of (fav/flowers) he got for you when he went out, as a congratulations and 'I'm proud of you'. He couldn't sleep well, being with you 24/7 of the time, that kiss you almost shared on the dressing room floor had got him thinking for nights on end; it drove him insane.

He tried to play it cool, knowing that you didn't go for your best friends, and there was no way in hell you'd actually like him; it was reality, not a cheesy plot for a rom-com film. This wasn't acting, it was his personal life, and that scared him.

He's never felt this way for a friend.

Friends, you could keep as long as you'd like, as long as you were loyal and true and always got the other's back, you had that mutual feeling in you that you'd be friends in the long run, but lovers — lovers. It's almost similar, but more intimate, had a much more deeper meaning and feel of euphoria and appreciation. It was just different. Being lovers, once something wrong happens, if the littlest thing sparks up an argument, a thought of doubt, chances you could loose whatever's been built would become too risky. It was just a whole mix of emotions and it caused voicing out the truth more difficult. Being in relationship is being committed, it was having a handful of responsibilities, it was being devoted and built on trust which was such a fragile thing. Being in a platonic relationship lessened responsibilities, still built on trust and loyalty, but getting hurt would hurt much less. Because it's platonic.

Being friends was one thing that was certain to last, you could be hurting and secret and the other party wouldn't have to know. And it would hurt less knowing that this friend wasn't hurting.

But there you are, walking back into his life, a fairly long time later; like an angel, with your sweet, sarcastic voice and hands as light and delicate as feathers trailing on his skin, sometimes coming at him hard and fast, hitting him out of excitement and humor, breathing in that perfume or that detergent you always wore that it seemed to seep into your pores and just become a permanent part of you; all you needed was some wings and a halo and you would have him fooled twice.

The morning after that interview, Scarlett had knocked on his door at eight in the morning, asking to be joined for breakfast down at the dining hall. She knew Chris had a shitty night, based on the rugged appearance and visible bags under his eyes, but she decided to ask about it later, then proceeding forward to knocking on your door with him in tow. You came out practically glowing, beaming at the both of them with that gorgeous smile and messy wet hair, your soap and perfume a heavy hit on his conscious.