𝐓𝐇𝐄 ₙₒ𝟐 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

ch. 8

__________

Everything, Anything
______

"Can you get the hell out of my hotel room now?" She carped. Her voice calm but laved with rage. I looked at her once more, wanting to say something— anything, before walking away and out of her hotel room.

As I closed the door to her room, I let out another shaky breath. I hadn't planned for it to go this way. I want so badly to go back in there and prove her wrong but I know I couldn't. She's unreasonable— and theres no winning with unreasonable. I took another look at her door, scoffing before walking down the hall to an elevator and stepping inside. My fingers dug into the palm of my hand, my fist growing tighter as I waited to get to the first floor. Why the hell did she lash out at me? I was the one helping her, at least I was helping her. Now all im doing is making her attitude worse, something im notoriously good at and something 'her Ben' couldn't ever dream of doing.

I hadn't really grasped that yet, that they had their own Ben. Or even weirder, that we would seemingly have our own [Y/N]. Of course their names are different which I hadn't figured out why yet. She acts the same, she looks the same. So why not that little detail? Im guessing its for the same reason she keeps pestering me about being different from 'her Ben'. And of course Reginald always had his theories about different universes, altered by the inability to make the same choices. But seeing it in front of you is wild. I shook my head, shaking her from my mind in the process, as the elevator groaned to a stop and the doors slid open.

Stepping out I saw one of her friends at an island bar, trading with a cashier for two takeout bags— I darted behind a bush, not wanting to be seen by whatever his name was, Klaus was it? Who cares. Whatever he was named, he passed me ignorantly blissful. Im starting to believe that none of them are capable of kidnap seeing how unknowingly he walked right passed enemy number one. I waited a beat before rushing out the hotel doors and into the open air, walking home down dimly lit sidewalk.

Finally getting to the manor, I push passed the creaking metal gates and into the house. Entering the foyer, I wondered around aimlessly, drunk off my own adrenaline from the fight as I relive it in my mind. I drew a slow breath and closed my eyes slowly.
"Did you find her?"
My eyes quickly opened and I looked towards the living room who's doors were open wide and displaying Sloane who sat on the couch, peering through the frame. "Yeah" I spoke flatly, walking into the room. "I did."
She looked up at me from her criss crossed spot in the corner of the couch and patted next to her, beckoning me to sit. I let out a sigh and sat down, my eyes stuck on the coffee table and my elbows leaned on my knees.

"So, how'd that go?" She asked, her voice as nice as it normally was. She was the only person that came nearest to therapy as Jennifer did. Of course nothing could compare to her, she was something of her own in that way. Jen was the only person who got close enough to change something.
"Guess" I condemned.
I heard a sigh, "What happened?"
"She got— Everything got crazy." I dropped my head into my hands "Did everything get crazy or did you poke the bear again?" Sloane asked, she always knew when I did something wrong before I could even blink. Now how the hell she did it? I don't know, witchcraft maybe.

"Its not witchcraft, im just your sister. I know you, and I know how, sorry, but bad you handle things" She explained making my head perk up. "How the fuck—"
Sloane laughed, "Intuition."
Of course she was right, I never was the best at handling things, or my emotions. Maybe I just got so used to Jen that when she left I didn't know how to handle anyone else. Albeit I don't think I changed for her, I think she just liked me for how I was— which no one around me had ever really expressed.
"I did call her a prisoner" I let out, shoving my head back in my hands. I heard her snort "Oh my god im sorry, I don't mean to laugh" She said through giggles.

God its embarrassing that all I can do is fly off the handle. And when things got bad I caught a part of me hoping her Ben was like this too.. so that this made sense and she didn't resent me. "I also said a lot of other— horrible things."
"Well." She made me look up from my hands, "How are we gonna fix this?"
"What?" I faltered, turning to her.
"How are you going to fix it?" Sloane repeated, adjusting her seat on the couch to face me. "I don't— what?" I looked at her eager face. I can't— or don't fix things, I just wait for the other person to apologize and I stop talking to them if they don't.

Although Jen was always pretty stubborn, we never really apologized to each other. But I'd admit we never have had a real fight just petty back and forth. My pout glowered. "I mean would it be so bad?" Sloane asked, "To try?" She leant her head to the side.
Yeah, it would. "Nothings too bad for me"
"Well then do it" Sloane demanded lightly, clapping her hands together and getting up, I followed. "Off to bed you go then" She shooed me off and I begrudgingly did as she said.

Finally stepped inside my room, I let out a heavy sigh. Even with my countless time alone, I hadn't gotten time to sit down and processes everything. Yet some how everything was the only thing careening through my mind since. It was strange seeing her again, almost uncanny. I remember every night I went to bed hoping somehow, I would see her again, that she would come back to me. Needless to say after awhile I gave up, grew up. I knew she wasn't coming back.
Falling back onto my bed, I peered up at my ceiling. Seeing her again made me feel just as awful as I did when I wished for her but knew I couldn't have her, as I still do wish.

Its like that feeling when you smell something in a public place thats familiar but before you figure out where it was from, its gone and it just leaves you confused as to how it could replicate something so clearly and precisely. Seeing her as much as I do, all it does is make it worse. Like this reminder that this is what could have been if I had just been smart enough or quick enough, good enough. And every time I see her I just want to hold her and never let her go, as if she would leave again. As weird and awful as it is to be near, she draws me to her. And yet I keep messing it up when I finally am near.

All I want right now is to show up back at her window on my knees and beg for her forgiveness for everything, anything. No matter how embarrassing or sheepish I come off, if she tolerates me, thats enough. But I know I can't —couldn't— even if I wanted to, something stops me every time I try to admit defeat. Even with her, I just can't.
Of course she isn't Jen, she never was or will be, she doesn't have her memories and I can't make her. And if she did, I don't even know if I could approach her, show my face after how much I let her down. I ruined her life, ended it, and I would never want her forgiveness for that. I don't deserve it.

...

A timid knock came from the door. No response. Another knock and another beat of silence. The door slowly creaked open, a 17 year old Sloane peaked between the door and its frame before opening it more and walking in quietly. Ben sat on the edge of his bed, his arms limp on his knees and his head dropped to the side, one tap and it would roll down to face the floor.
His face was empty, blank, devoid of any emotion. His eyes likewise, glued on the floor in front of him. Although it seemed as if he were trapped behind his blank stare, his eyes painted the slightest bit of remorse, dread, exhaustion, dejection.

"Ben?" Sloane spoke softly, taking another step towards the husk. No response, naturally. This had been going on since the 6th of June, when it had happened. The tragic death of Jennifer. No one had taken it harder, blamed themselves more than Ben, as you'd might expect. He tortured himself every single day since. Ben had gone months locked in his room and when he wasn't, he was dead silent.

Sloane walked up to him, taking a seat next. She leaned forward to look at him, even if they were making eye contact it wouldn't have mattered, he was pretty much gone. She tightened her lips into a commiserating smile, nodded and got up. Sloane placed a paper plate with a single slice of birthday cake and fork next to him on the bed. Bens head finally dropped, that being the only sign of life he had shown since she came in. As she walked out, his brows upturned slightly and she shut the door.