Alone With Ross

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Ross' POV

It wasn't getting any better. The fact that I'd much rather stay and work overtime than be home became apparent... even to her. How each night when I'd come home and pray that she was already sleeping so she wouldn't give me more reasons to want to stay away. It was akin to owning a vicious pet, I feared opening our bedroom door to see her blankly watching television.

I love her. God do I love that woman more than I could express with words. She was the one who had found me in the hell I had built for myself. Now it was just a question as to if she had actually dragged me out of there, or just decided to take refuge. Because she herself was suffering.

She escaped a past abusive relationship, so each day was just voyaging through new waters of her past she'd rather not be reminded of. It's not her fault. I know it's not her fault, but at the same time, how is this all fair to me? To get this bitter end to her that I didn't even have a hand in creating? To damage myself more and more each day trying my hardest to love her despite her cold demeanor?

The only reason why I'm still around is because she isn't always like this. In the beginning when I had first met her, she was actually quite charming. The first time I saw her she was getting harassed by some asshole after my gig. But she held her own in the face of confrontation. We didn't even really talk that night. It wasn't until she showed up to another one of my gigs that we had actually had a conversation. Her dad, the last surviving member of her family had passed and she was there permanently as she had inherited his house. She was out of work from all the money she had gotten from his passing. It wasn't really brought to my attention at the time but now that I'm thinking about it she didn't even seem phased by his death.

I took her out the week after we had exchanged numbers. We went on a basic movie dinner date that was a complete flop. At the end of the night when I had dropped her off at her home I sat in her driveway for way longer than I should have because realization hit me like a bus.

I hadn't thought of Caspian that whole night.

And I became addicted to that feeling.

I became addicted to the woman who gave me that feeling.

I replaced my addiction with love, and here I was. Following the same routine, just like every other night in which I peek into our shared bedroom to see if she was still awake. And tonight just happened to be one of those nights where she was awake. Usually the TV would be on and she'd zone out to watch some mindless show (a distraction to keep herself from snapping at me) but tonight the light from the bathroom flooded into our dark bedroom. And I sighed with finality.

Because I couldn't go on like this much longer. I couldn't continue to love this girl, hoping that my love would be adequate enough to fix her. I've already done that with Caspian and look where that lead me? I'm not going to selfishly keep her around just for the sake that she makes the burning go away.

I stepped further into the room. My heart was in my throat. Would she cry? Would she hate me afterwards? Would she blame me for how I feel?

I rounded the corner to see her putting her hair up into a messy bun as her face was dripping wet. She then got a towel to dry her face off, I couldn't exactly place what was different but she looked effortlessly beautiful. That's what made it all the more harder to do what I had to do.

She pulled the towel down and jumped at the sight of me. "Jesus, Ross!" She hissed. The shirt she was wearing rode up slightly and once I focused on it I had realized it was mine.

"Sorry, I was just checking on you." I said quietly, somber. For I needed to do it quick before my brain could make note of anymore things I could miss.