as she held her breath, she was afraid her heartbeat would be heard in the deafening quiet. the car rattled as he shifted his weight from one hip to the other, contemplating.
staring at her wrist, contemplating if he should hold it— too intimate?
she could feel him contemplating. she saw the tension in the muscles of his forearm, his ever-so-slightly twitching fingers. staring down at the space between them, knees an inch and a half away from touching, her breath trembles out.
"can you feel it too?" she asks, timidly, almost a whisper.
he sucks in a small breath. he could feel the air molasses-thick between them. each slight movement of their chests as they breathed, or involuntary twitch of a finger, igniting electricity that they could feel— goosebumps. palpable, the tension itself having a heartbeat, each breath out from each of them supplying it with more energy, even more electricity.
with a slight nod of his head, he confesses, "yes."
she doesn't wanna raise her head, possibly catch his gaze with hers. it would be too sharp, and she's too delicate. much too delicate for any of this. for anything.
she swallows hard, tears prickling in her eyes.
"ben—" her voice cracks, she doesn't wanna continue. she pulls her knees to her chest, increasing the distance between them as she pushes herself back, her back resting on the door handle.
she can feel his eyes on her, and she wants to disappear into the air between them, the clouded air between them.
"ben, i— am i losing you?"
he bites his lips, already anticipating the question. he looks down to his knuckles, intertwined on his lap, chest sinking. he's just now fully realizing the power that marie gave him in her life. losing him was gonna break her down completely.
he pushes his hand into his hair, and he hates this all. friendships, dependence, vulnerability, being forced to lay his heart out in front of her, and even hating marie a bit. resenting her a lot for what she forced him to feel.
marie's on the verge of tears, he can hear it in her voice. and he hates it so much, resents her for loving him so much. he told her not to. he told her.
marie can feel herself trembling in the uncertainty of night. every second of quiet that passes is like a new needle into her pincushion of a heart.
a whole minute of quiet passes, and she wishes she didn't exist anymore.
"marie..."
he looks back up at her, his throat swelling up as he sees a single tear roll down her cheek, illuminated by the moon outside the window.
she looks away, out the window to the moon, biting her lips trying to keep another tear from revealing itself, revealing her and her thoughts.
"marie," he pauses, looking for the correct words to say, and trying to console, "i'm not doing this on purpose. you know that."
she screws her eyes shut, hand in her hair, exhaling hard. "doesn't really make a difference," she mutters to herself, though secretly hoping he heard her.
he heard her.
the moon's glow goes dim. he sighs, scoffs almost, and fights the urge to roll his eyes. there marie goes again, trying to make him the indisputable villain in her story, he thinks. he was used to this.
marie knows he's not the villain. well, not the only villain. she knows that. as much as it stings in her throat to admit, she knows she's as much to blame for this mess. this adolescent, indecent, pitiful mess. this mess of dependency, idolization, attempted isolation— yet it's all she's known.
she shakes her head, angry at herself and the tear that rushes down her face once more. the electric tension is gone; all that's left are the ashes of the sparks that once burned. they still burn, just now it's a dreadful, painful jolt.
"i just—" she stammers out, breath shaking, embarrassingly and she grimaces. "i just love you so much," she breathes out, the cry now evident in her voice. why can't you love me too? she thinks.
ben's heart retreats further into his chest; it's hard to breathe now. his heart starts aching for marie, veins straining in his neck from the weight of her admission now splayed out on top of them. it's nothing he didn't already know, but seeing the words fall from her now raw lips and her wet cheeks and hugging herself to soothe her loneliness— it's uncomfortably real.
he wishes he could take it all back. all that comforting he did, being there for her when no one else was, promising he'd never leave when she'd ask if he would. he resented being her only source of happiness— it was a drain on his.
poor marie, he thought. how lonely she must be if she chose him, of all people, to be her everything.
this poor, delicate little angel. how will she survive in this world?
// ruminating on friendship breakups.
sorry for the abrupt end— that's
life, though, isn't it?
