[ To And Fro by Thomston ]

Higher by Rihanna was initially the chapter's song but it's so short. Just know that that's what I wrote some of this to.

TWENTY-TWO: when he leaves the light on.

(3) new messages
wren: don't sleep with him

•

(2) iMessage from sully

sully: batman could definitely beat up Peter Parker

sully: no contest!

jules: Peter Parker still is Spider-Man without the suit and he has the element of surprise.

•

wren: you see this Ho!

jules: he has a boyfriend.

wren: you do too, daddy x

jules: xx

wren: omg! xxx

jules: sry! **X(

wren: 🖕🏼

•

iMessage from sully

sully: that's the hottest thing I've ever read.

Therapy was just another person consistently reassuring me that I wasn't the only person who felt like this, that I had to be patient with myself, that not feeling like the old me wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Dr. Thorpe was familiar and because of that, it was easy to open up to her again even if we only met twice that week and the healing process started earlier every time I had to go through it. She'd seen me when I was first diagnosed years prior, she'd seen me before graduation and after and every time I needed therapy at home... the first year of college.

And we wrote, we wrote so much on the first and second meeting and even if it felt a little stupid, I was starting to understand more of my own feelings. Emotional disorders are often caused by unresolved trauma... mostly from family, sometimes from peers and school. She would then ask about school as if we hadn't discussed it before but the frustration with her questions would make me dig deeper.

We'd breeched the topic of family even if I refused to stay on it too long. My flight out was that following Sunday and I figured when I got back to California, I could maybe see a therapist at least once the rest of the semester.

When a knock on my door had sounded through the living room, my body sprawled out on the couch, something in me said that it was bad karma. I'd been laying around for a week now, God or some higher power alike wasn't so keen on me being lazy. Sluggishly, I rose from the dip in the couch, stretching my body out, I'd been laying there for a while, reading.

More sunlight spilled into the living room from various windows, more than my room and to get myself out of bed, I thought maybe that would be good for me. Maybe I needed to surround myself with light and living things and I was suddenly very grateful for Andria's obsession with turning my home into a forest.

It was earthy and I surprisingly appreciated it.

Standing, I waited for a second, deliberating on opening the door. I didn't care to speak to a telemarketer nor did I have the energy to pretend I wanted to connect with Jehovah in this bright Saturday morning. And just as I was going to sit back down, the chime of the doorbell rang through the house, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

I rolled my eyes, slouching on the way to the door, Jade should've been there to open the damn door and whoever it was that so desperately needed my attention was going to receive the most threatening look I could muster.

With a hand on the knob, I turned, slowly opening it, hoping just the lag would discourage whoever was behind it and when I'd seen him, my heart stopped.

I froze, eyes probably bulging out of my head and I felt my stomach drop to my knees. And then I was running over what in his fucking mind told him that this was okay.

It was an uncomfortable feeling and I was unaware on how he expected me to react. Maybe I should've been more upset than I was but honestly, what was the use in fighting this?

Paul was standing there, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, he had his eyes on mine and an awkward smile on his flawless face. With a billowy loose-shirt, it had some abstract print on it and was half-unbuttoned, my eyes met a chain dangling in the middle. I gulped, trying not to look him in the eyes then and I was sure I was sweating.

I was speechless, my eyes wide and I could see him visibly getting more nervous. Biting his bottom lip, he laughed softly when I didn't say anything. "I heard you were in town and I was visiting my parents..."

And he chose to visit me?

"I was-I was hoping we could talk."

What would we possibly have to talk about? We'd talked enough the last time, hadn't we? Everything ended, he made sure of that, what was there to talk about? There wasn't anything to talk about, not when we ended on 'I'm gonna miss you,' not when he texted me wasted and we hadn't talked since.

Okay, maybe we did have some air to clear.

"I'm sorry- this is crazy; I should've called-"

"Yeah."

Gulping, he stood stagnant, my hand still curled around the doorknob and I was locked in place. He must've taken that as a sign of his presence being unwanted.

He gaped for a second, opening his mouth to speak but instead, it ended with a soft "um..." he smiled then, it awkward and he bit his plush bottom lip. "I-I- uh-"stepping back, he stumbled ever so slightly, looking behind him for a second and then back at me.

"I shouldn't have come... I'll go-" he offered and he was already stepping down one step when I found myself inching closer.

But even with my guard up, I hated how troubled he looked upon realizing my reservations. He'd come all the way here with a smile and it would be rude to not even indulge in a conversation. "It's okay." It was still awkward, I knew he knew that as I stepped back, allowing him the space to step through. "Come in."

"Really, Jules, I'll go if you-"

He was still chivalrous as ever and even if it were borderline awkward now, it was still extremely cute. "Pablo." The way his eyes darted up to mine then, his body instantly relaxing with the endearment brought a flush to my cheeks. "Really, come in."

Paul must've felt just as nervous because he was nodding, rubbing his hands over the sides of his thighs as if to dry them and he was entering the house.

It was silent when I shut the door, he'd noticed the change and I was behind him, trying not to fall into how great he looked. He smelled amazing too and his eyes were still so hypnotic.

Deep browns were lazily scanning the room, probably taking in the new decor and he smiled a bit, "Heard your dad was getting married." His voice was conversational and it put me at ease, only slightly. I was still nervous, especially at the mention of the wedding, who would even tell him that?

He must have noticed my confusion because he elaborated quickly, "Our parents still talk."

"Oh." I should've expected that, Pete still talked to Jade sometimes, still had connections through Will. I guess once you meet the family, it sticks, we'd never brought them into our drama anyways. I smiled, trying to keep the conversation light, knowing that he needed a little push to relax a bit. "You could've said hi, you know... before apologizing."

"Oh." That must have helped, him turning a bit to look at me, his lips turned up into a smile then and his voice had that cute little laugh in it. "Hi."

It was cheery, full of all the enthusiasm I lacked and that was one thing that I was envious of: no matter how shitty our last conversation might have been, he always greeted me with kindness even if I didn't necessarily deserve it.

"Hi." I tried to perk up, gesturing towards the couch. "You can sit down if you want." When he followed suit, he tried to relax, I could see it in him, his body was tense and I wasn't sure if it was because he was in my house or not.

"Wh-what happened?" His voice was curious, a small hint of concern on the end and when I looked up, he was gesturing towards my wrapped hand, brows furrowed.

"Oh," he was frowning and I settled for a small lie, something that wouldn't warrant any more quesitons. "...Soccer, it's just a fracture, I'll live."

I tried to laugh it off, hoping he took that as a truth. There was no real reason to let him know how low I'd been. He didn't need to worry about me.

His body stayed stiff, hands clasped together and I was starting to wonder if he had something to tell me, he couldn't break up with me if we weren't together, right?

Paul has paused, his eyes looking around again as if to familiarize himself and I wondered if it felt as weird to him as it did to me.

"Do you wanna..." he stopped to clear his throat, combatting the hoarseness he started with, "did you wanna get out the house?" He offered after a small pause, it hopeful and when I met his eyes, he was smiling again, it finally reaching chocolate brown pools.

Why would you come in and sit down if you didn't want to in the first place?

"Um, we can get food, I'll drive." He elaborated dangling his keys when I didn't respond and I watched him scratch the back of his neck in nervousness. I found myself staring at the little coils there, remembering twirling them around my fingers when he needed the comfort. He seemed to need it now, seemed on edge.

Maybe fresh air would do us both good.

Rubbing his hands together as if he were jittery, he stuttered out an excuse. "I just-I wanna talk."

"What do you wanna do tonight?" His arms were twined around my hips, we'd been sitting on the couch, me draped across his lap and Paul's chin was resting on my shoulder, watching the TV.

It was a relaxed night, a Saturday and we'd both had the night off due to morning shifts. He'd been holding me for about an hour now and really, time blew by like that watching Spanish shows with subtitles. We were halfway through some show on Netflix about a murder in a high school and Paul was so entrapped in it.

He was so into it that honestly, I was confused when he inquired about plans for later.

"Didn't Lanny invite us to that sip n paint thing?" I'd asked, knowing that he wanted to get a foot in the door there. Paul wanted to hold lessons, get another job at the local PaintBarn and the first step to that would be to go to one of their events.

He shook his head, curls tickling the skin on my neck. "He cancelled, I guess the girl he's dating flaked." That made me sad, Landon never had much luck with love and I was starting to think he'd find it soon, hoping after Sadiyah's music career took off and she moved halfway across the world. I made a mental note to call him, check in. "We could still go, just you and me."

"I was kinda banking on not being the only one there who can't paint."

Paul smiled then, I could feel a kiss on my neck then, it warming the skin. "It's probably for the best anyways since I can't drink."

"We could go to a museum."

"You hate museums."

I scoffed then, my head thrown back so he had more access. He chuckled then, it vibrating my body and through my chest, briefly I thought we should just stay in. "I don't hate museums."

He pulled away then, a pout taking place on my lips and he was rolling his eyes now, lips still in that teasing smile of his. The brown of his eyes looked so much lighter then, so promising and love made itself more present in my chest. I loved those moments, when everything felt so comfortable.

"You faked a stomach ache the last time I took you to a museum, Jules."

"That was because you looked so hot." He was wearing these black slacks that fit so nicely, cuffed at the ankle over some boots with a short chunky heel and a loose cream-colored silk shirt that was unbuttoned enough to show off the tattoo that crossed his sternum.

I wasn't sure what it was about his tattoos but they looked so good with silver jewelry wrapped around, nipple rings poking through the nice fabric of his shirt and he was wearing my ring on a tattooed finger.

The same hand was now brushing against my bare waist, the ring cooling my skin and Paul had pulled me back into his body. Pressing a kiss to my lips now, he smiled against them, pulling away and he looked just as good in the big t-shirt and sweatpants combo that adorned his perfect body.

He bit his lip then, eyes dilated and he pushed his hand into the back of my pants, pulling me back into his lap, I knew we'd stay in that night. "Hm?" His eyes narrowed, a smirk present on his face and he pushed a hand through his curls, perfectly coiled and still damp from the shower, he looked so good like that.

"You look hot now."

: : :

"What do you want?" He questioned when we'd been standing at the counter at Panera. I wasn't hungry, hadn't been for a few days but I couldn't tell him that. Paul always could see deeper meanings in things that I did, if I didn't eat and I already looked as sickly as I did now, he wouldn't let me forget it.

"Maybe a salad?" I'd asked, not wanting a question to follow.

It was weird, that much was obvious but Paul seemed determined to not acknowledge it and I had no choice but to go along. It wasn't like I wanted to be home, that was even more awkward on a Saturday, everyone else out of the house but Jade would be back now and she'd been trying to talk for days.

It was a conflicted feeling, the idea that I was using talking about whatever my ex wanted to talk about to avoid talking about my inner turmoil.

Paul nodded and I went to go find seats, I could hear him ordering when I'd sat down, back pressed against the cool booth. "Can I get half a caeser salad, two turkey and cheese sandwiches and two waters please?"

He always went the extra mile and I fought a small smile, looking down at the table.

Tracing the pattern, I tried to stop my hands from shaking, there was something so nerve-racking about this meeting being so nonchalant, so normal. It was weird to think that Paul and I could be so close, we could be curled up on the couch and now we felt like strangers.

Like I was seeing an old friend that I'd only met once or twice, someone I sat next to in a class for a semester and barely spoke two words.

It was weird that looking at him, it simultaneously felt familiar and like I didn't know him at all. He was dressed differently and he had a new haircut and the way he carried himself was different, he wasn't as carefree as before and I could see it in his body-language.

And it felt out of place for me to say anything, that was the thing.

I didn't know where we stood anymore, we were in this weird position of knowing so much about each other yet we'd been apart for so long, we lived entirely different lives.

And still, sitting directly across from him, I couldn't think of anything else.

When Paul was done ordering, he'd planted himself down in the chair across from me, it creaking against the floor as he scooted forward and I grinded my teeth down at the sound, it making my head pulsate. It was silent, silence with us was awkward now, it would hang in the air almost angrily, daring me to speak.

I sighed, not knowing what to say but my hands were now folded in my lap in order to hide the subtle tremble. "You didn't have to..."

He didn't have to, we weren't anything to each other anymore and him buying me food was borderline inappropriate. Were we supposed to hate each other now?

"It's fine." He dismissed, full lips upturned, seemingly comfortable. "How have you been?"

"I'm okay."

He didn't seem convinced but he stayed how he was sitting, Paul always had this... authoritative aura about him, intimidating me by just sitting there and he could always see right through me. "Really?"

And because of that, like a child, I hated to disappoint him.

Still, I shrugged, trying to keep my movements to a minimum. I was both cold and squirmy, hands now wedged in between my thighs and I sat as still as can be wrapped in a crew-neck sweater I'd grabbed from the closet on my way out. "Yeah."

I picked a bad day to wear real pants, I decided, knowing that the sweats I'd been nestled in for weeks now would've provided some warmth. The weather that day was nice, I should have been fine but it felt so chilly, like the air was blasting directly on me.

Paul was in a jean jacket, a new one, one that I hadn't seen before and I tried not think of the fact that his jacket was still in Sullivan's car. This was so weird. "Have you eaten today?"

Why was he asking these questions? Why did it matter to him? "I-uh- I had a banana earlier." I answered, knowing that it was more than I'd eaten in a few days now. He'd definitely have something to say about that.

I was right because he was sighing now, "Jules, it's five o'clock."

"Please don't act like my dad, Paul."

He was grimacing now.

Maybe I knew that Paul would always somehow be involved in my life even if he didn't seem to want to be. But he was the one that always came back, he was the one that wanted to see me, he pushed forward all of our awkward encounters since I visited the first time and he came to see me now.

I tried to be selfless, tried to tell myself that he wouldn't have come to see me if what he had to talk about wasn't important.

He nodded then, it quick and he sat back in his chair, as if the lazed posture would somehow make me feel more comfortable.

"Sorry." His voice was small and he was cut off by the sound of his name. The man across from me for a second as if he had something to say but thought better of it. And then he was licking his lips, standing up, sparing one glance at me before heading towards the counter and he was grabbing a tray.

"Did you want something else to drink? A soda or something?" He'd asked when he was back, setting the food down in front of me, internally, I thanked the place for being almost barren due to the time.

"I'm fine." Shaking my head, I pulled the food closer to me as he sat down. The salad sat in front of me, it slightly intimidating and Paul was staring at me when I glanced back up. He tried to hide it when I'd seen, tried to nod slightly and start to unwrap his sandwich.

The medication still made me nauseous and the food didn't look even slightly appetizing.

"You look good." He did, he looked absolutely amazing.

"Thanks, you too." That was a lie.

I tried to keep the malice from my voice, tried to sound nonchalant about it but the "I'm sure Isaiah tells you that all the time," came out spiteful.

And he didn't owe me anything, not an explanation but still, he gave me one. He was laughing then, it soft and fond and I tried not to smile at it. "We're not together, Jules." He tacked that on as if it mattered, as if I had some right to that information when we had no connection to each other anymore.

Paul could date who he wanted now and he had no obligation to tell me but he offered that curtesy. And he nodded then, the smile still present. "I get jealous too." That was amusing and I made sure he knew it. I never gave him reasons to be jealous, it was always obvious that I was always thinking of him. I laughed, every time I even tried to move on, he was still the one I'd have rather been with and it was pretty obvious.

"No you don't." He never had reason to.

But he was adamant. "I was jealous when you had a hickey." He smiled, I always underestimated how much he was into me. It always felt like I was more into him and maybe that was biased.

"I get jealous even thinking about your roommate."

He had to know that I felt the same exact way. "Danny?" I had reason to be jealous of Isaiah, Isaiah was definitely into guys and definitely into Paul. Danny wasn't my type at all.

Still, Paul scoffed, a deadpan on his face. "He's pretty hot." A smile cracked through his facade, his brows furrowing as if he didn't understand how I could deny it.

"He's straight." I dismissed.

He was smiling to himself. "You underestimate how stunning you are."

My breath caught it my throat, raising and almost choking me and Paul was slowly becoming flustered. He closed his eyes, screwing them shut and he went to take it back because it felt awkward. "Um..."

And my heart fluttered in my chest under his words, I tried to keep myself calm, collected before I fell again.

That was another thing: I never thought Paul was just as in love with me as I was with him, not regularly, until he did things that proved otherwise. And then I'd feel guilty for ever forgetting.

"I'm sure it's normal..."

He lost me then. "What?"

"Jealousy that he's near you and I'm not." The words felt a bit too heavy and so did the look in his eyes but as soon as he spoke, as if he realized it was out of turn, he blinked. "Envy."

He wasn't eating, he was just holding the sandwich, eyes on me and I realized that he'd offered food because of me. He'd taken me here because I looked like I hadn't eaten in a while, that was the way he'd love me. "We're not used to seeing each other with other people."

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to it." I voiced, grabbing for the little container with the dressing in it, spreading it over my salad and he finally took a bite of his sandwich when I was mixing it in.

He nodded then, must have felt the same way and that was comforting. It was easier now, for sure, seeing him. I could sit across from him and wish no ill-will or anything more than what it was. This felt... friendly and the realization of that barely stung.

"I'm sorry." I started and that was when it hit just how many apologies would fly in this conversation. Maybe we needed to start there, with apologies and understanding because the pain had finally subsided, time healed a bit and that was what was missing from the last conversation. We had no time away from each other completely and because of that, it quickly turned confrontation.

Or maybe it was because I'd been so immersed in myself, I didn't have the time to think of how I'd feel seeing him again. It had now been three months since we'd last talked and the wound wasn't fresh anymore.

I wasn't trying to listen before, so wrapped up in my own head and my own thoughts were too loud to give Paul time to speak. But this time was different, maybe cause I'd learned a lot more, healed a little more. Maybe when I felt anger at him and then the deepest depression I'd felt in a long time, I realized just how pointless it all was.

It was just hitting that I survived another period of prolonged suicidal ideation and I did it without him. And Wren pulled me off the ledge and I stepped back, I was in the process of doing something to fix it.

There was still a lot more to go, I had so much to deal with but Paul was right, we've both grown since then.

"For?" He looked confused.

A lot. "Giving my ring back..." that didn't feel right and I felt myself shaking my head almost as if to take it back, "the way I did. I just, when you... when we- I thought that I'd get over you quicker if I- if I didn't have the ring." And honestly, it was a stupid idea, I could see it in the way his face changed.

His eyes were now on his sandwich, small smile bordering on a frown and I tried to stop my lips from quivering. "Did it help?"

"Not really." It just felt like another wasted attempt at letting you go when I know I can't. "When you drunk-texted, it did."

The look on his face then felt different, something changed and I wasn't sure what it was but he sat up. His body was rigid now, him avoiding my gaze and I didn't know what to say. "I'm seeing someone." I offered, that was what he wanted, right? He said we should move on.

"Oh."

I mean, technically, it was a lie. I hadn't see anyone since my date with Sullivan and I went so far off the grid afterwards that I was sure he'd forgotten all about me, if he was even really all that into me in the first place. Sullivan was cute, he had his life together and I just... didn't. But Paul wanted me to move on, or at least, that was what he said and I wasn't fully sure why I lied.

Maybe I wanted to see what his reaction would be and it was exactly how I thought I presumed.

He forced his eyes up, to look into mine, wiped his mouth with a napkin and he nodded. "Does he- they. Do they respect you?"

That almost made me cry. I could feel tears in my throat then, the idea that he still cared. I told him that I was seeing someone else and the first thing he did was make sure I was okay. And he corrected himself, knowing that the last time we talked about it, I wasn't sure of my sexuality being exclusive to men.

He was always respectful. That was why I loved him, I reminded myself, fighting off feelings that came rushing back. Just those words were enough. "He does. Yeah."

And Paul was stunning, and sweet and full of light and he looked so, so beautiful.

"Okay."

After a brief pause, my eyes locked on his hand, it sitting on the table and before I could stop myself, I reached for it. Maybe I wanted contact in a way that was physical, wanted him to really feel my gratitude for how selfless and caring he always was. "Thank you."

My fingertips were just grazing his, lightly, as if I thought he'd pull away and we both paused.

I could feel it in my chest, it knocking the wind out of me when he flipped his hand around. Gently, he held mine, warming it and his thumb ran soothing circles on my knuckles. He started a pattern, a figure-eight, infinity- it soft and calming and my eyes were still focused on our hands when he spoke again.

"For?"

Pausing, I tried to make sure it came out clear. My voice wavered but my words stayed solid and I didn't stutter. "Caring about me." Paul was always able to put his personal feelings to the side, always found a way to be happy for me even if it was at the expense of his own happiness and he was holding my hand after I told him I was seeing someone else.

He was kind in that regard, always, and I'd never been more sure that he loved me.

"Don't thank me for something I'm supposed to do." He was shaking his head, curling his hand around mine in a firmer way as if he would pull it up and kiss the freckled skin but he didn't take it that far. He just smiled, brown eyes on mine. "I'm never gonna stop caring about you, Jules."

That was enough.

"Are you mad?"

He smiled then, disregarding my question, "It doesn't matter-"

"It does." It was easier this way, I was sure, easier for him to let his guard down if I was already in a prospective relationship because there wasn't a chance for me to fall back in love with him.

But I was still in love with him, no new guy would change that, my heart still beat a mile a minute just being in the same room as this man. He was still the person I saw myself with in ten years- twenty years- thirty...

He was still the person I imagined I'd be with for the rest of my life and he proved that when he spoke again.

I didn't know what I wanted from this conversation and honestly, I could tell he didn't either.

"You're not gonna stop seeing him, you shouldn't." His voice was calculated, no real emotion peaking through but I could see it on his face, in his grimace. Paul was frowning. "You're happy, I'm not gonna be mad about that."

And he still didn't let go of my hand, not when he pushed my salad closer to me and mumbled out an, "Eat."

Not when minutes later, I still hadn't eaten much, he titled his head to the side, voice soft and he squeezed my hand. Brown eyes pleaded, lips reiterating what I'd seen and he bit his bottom lip, word escaping. "Please."

: : :

Paul was the type of guy that somehow always knew how to make an impression on me. We were sitting in the car later, parked outside my house and we were both still there even once the car turned off knowing that if I invited him in, the conversation would change.

It was silent, the exception of soft music playing, I wondered if he planned this, he seemed to have a playlist for everything.

Still, sitting here, I was thinking over what he'd said in the restaurant. His eyes were on mine and he always caught me by complete surprise. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I told him there was someone else but it wasn't a wish that I'd be happy and follow what made me happy at the extent of him.

I didn't expect him to fall in line so easily but I definitely should have.

But for him to assume that I was happy, that was a little farfetched.

Funny that you'd assume that. "Are you happy?" I'd asked, the first words I'd said since we left, everything with Paul always felt serene, so familiar and comfortable and warm. He'd turned on the heat when we'd gotten in the car, stripping off his own jacket.

It didn't look like he had an answer for that, at least not an honest one and I wondered if he were content. Instead, I went for a different approach.

"I write about you."

The seat warmer was enough, I decided when I flicked the heat back off, seeing that he was getting a little too warm and his eyes flickered over to me. I tried to remain nonchalant but his gaze lingered, warming me more almost burning.

He was surprised but I wasn't sure why, it was a given that I write of one of the most impactful -if not the most- people in my life. "You do?"

"A lot." Paul's eyes were glimmering then, bright in the sunlight that beamed through the window and he always took my breath away.

Maybe I'd show him some poems later, when we were finally past this stage in our lives. I would sit down with him, across from him and I'd smile, passing over a tattered old, battered old composition book dated from years prior.

And he would be flipping through pages of hard moments that we both somehow remembered fondly. I would intertwine our hands, wedding rings gleaming and we would reminisce. Everything would be better then, it had to be, we were too in love at one point for it to end like this and I wasn't sure where my newfound confidence and newfound optimism stemmed from.

Maybe I could sense that he wasn't himself either. Something that he'd stated years before, body wrapped so lovingly around mine, he'd sang soft songs mentioning that his grandmother said something about soulmates.

That she said I was his.

"Abuelita says that when you find your soulmate, you find the best parts of yourself in them..." he whispered, his voice gentle against my skin and I wondered how we fell so far into bliss at the moment. It was a regular day, a nap before work and Paul was so sentimental, he always was. He became poetic in these random moments and it almost always brought me to tears.

"I'm kind because of you." I'd offered and I knew it was true.

Paul chuckled, it reverberating through my body and he pulled me further into him, kissing my shoulder. "I'm stronger."

"What's going on?" I'd asked when he didn't speak, maybe I thought it was as good a time as any.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Everything with him felt off, he seemed so unhinged even despite how put-together he was now. He came here for a reason, I remembered and then I couldn't forget the drunken text-messages. "You're drinking."

He faked fine and maybe it had everything to do with how distant we were now. I remembered a time where he'd tell me everything that was on his mind but he was retreating to how he was in the first six months of our relationship and honestly, I understood it. "I'm fine."

But I felt the need to push, he'd do it for me. It might've been selfish but focusing on his problems was a relief from being so deep into mine, I wasn't feeling as low that day. "You're not fine if you're drinking."

"You don't have the right to ask me these questions." His voice was angry, probably from all my prying and I tried not to take it to heart. I couldn't be offended, I had to be understanding because when I was off my medication, I did the same thing. I'd broken up with him out of anger before and I couldn't be upset that he spoke in an aggressive tone.

He was right, I didn't have the right. I wasn't close enough to him to ask certain things anymore. It wasn't so far-fetched, I didn't occupy that space in his life anymore and quite-frankly, it was delusional that I still assumed I did.

We sat there for a little, basking in the silence, me in my stupidity. All the nice feelings that had swallowed me that day were instantly shot back into darkness and I found fault in myself for thinking this time would be any different.

I was still cold, still sickly looking, and he still had a distance that somehow I'd forgotten about.

And he was apologetic, just as I knew he'd be. Paul was groaning, wiping his tattooed hand down his face and he was sitting back in his car, it idling. "My grandma's sick."

All the dwelling in my own misfortune pushed to the back of my mind and suddenly his behavior made sense. He seemed different, that much was obvious, and him giving reason, I didn't really deserve to feel shocked.

"Shit." Shit. When it slipped, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and I realized that that wasn't the right thing to say at all. Reaching over, my hand was on his now, pulling it from his face and I wanted him to look at me. "Hey, for how long? What's up?"

I was never very articulate but he didn't seem to mind.

"Years, I don't know, it's worse now though."

And he looked somber at the thought and I wasn't thinking before I asked. "H-how sick?"

His breath caught in this throat then and he gasped out air as if he'd been holding his breath, this was too fresh and way too personal.

I tried not to acknowledge just how shitty that made me feel. We were together for years and he'd never mentioned it, and it impacted him so much. He had such a big emotional turn when confronted with his grandmother's sickness.

Me being so close to him before, claiming to love him, I should have known. But I didn't and he knew every single thing about me. With that realization, I tried not to compare our love, knowing he always beat me by a landslide.

Paul loved me so perfectly and I loved him wrong.

"Why didn't you tell me?" That wasn't the right thing to ask.

"I don't know." He'd answered and I wasn't sure if it was to my first question or just him being unsure of just how much he could tell me but either way it stung.

"Yes you do." It's cause I make everything about me, I'm doing it right now. "Are you okay?" That was what mattered.

He bypassed my question, eyes on the road again as if we were moving and I tried not to take it to heart. Paul sighed, words dismissive. "You had a lot going on."

"That's not what I asked." And it doesn't matter, I don't need to be the center of everything. In a way, her own twisted way, Jade was right. I never asked about other people but it came from a place of self-doubt. I had too much going on myself that I never seemed to remember that other people were going through the same.

Maybe it had a lot to do with self-preservation, maybe it was because Paul and my father had made everything so Julian-orientated once I started going through it that I forgot how it felt to be a fully-functioning human being. The man next to me was going through Hell and his nature wouldn't let him be that selfish. "I asked if you were okay?"

He wasn't used to it, wasn't used to my insistence and I was starting to see why he left and didn't return. I never thought of him deeply, not past this perfect version in my head and he was still perfect outwardly but I was so obsessed with the mask he'd shown me.

Maybe I never delved deeper because he was content being hollow, he fought so hard to keep walls up and I was starting to realize that I'd barely scratched the surface.

Loving Paul through and through, that would take a lifetime because he was so guarded. I didn't try hard enough, I didn't know him the way he knew me.

You say you love me but you don't know anything about me.

"Yes." But that was a lie, I could hear it in his tone and I didn't know how to combat it without him telling me to mind my business. "I can handle myself, Jules, I have it under control."

I didn't have the right to pry, he was right about that but I didn't care. I cared about him, cared about how I could tell from his voice alone that he wasn't okay.

I wouldn't let my anxiety convince me that our love wasn't real though, I loved Paul, I did. I had to, there was no way that I could look at this amazing person... spend so much time with him for it to have not been deeper than self-interest.

Still, I found it hard to remember a time where we were equals.

"What's under control?"

He stayed silent after that, allowing the natural sound of the car to take over and I concentrated on the slow beat of a soft song playing in the background, the words so contradicting to the conversation that I tried not to feel amused.

Sitting with this love hangover, boy its hurting my head.

"I don't wanna do this right now." And he'd changed the subject. "I came here to talk about us, not about that."

I'm just sorry that there ain't no time left.

And I hated that, I hated how quickly he switched the topic from himself. "Pablo-"

"No." He spoke, it stern, as if the conversation about his grandmother was over and I took it, for now.

"I shouldn't have called you, that's my fault, completely." We were back to apologies. "I don't wanna lose you... completely, Jules, that's not what I want."

I smiled, he always found a way to take responsibility even when he didn't hold all the blame, he was chivalrous in that regard. I didn't know what to say, agreeing would've been too eager to place blame. Silence stayed my best bet.

Still, I found myself trying one last time giving him the chance to get what was weighing him down, off his chest. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Paul sighed and he avoided answering. "Ask me something else."

"Okay." He wanted to talk about us, I'd give him that. "Did you keep his number?"

"No."

Maybe I wanted the questions to be uncomfortable, I wanted him to want to change the subject back to what was really bothering him.

"When we broke up... I went to a club." He answered a question that I hadn't asked, as if it took no real effort and I wondered just how much these answers would actually hurt me. "Isaiah was the bartender and he looked familiar so I talked to him."

He was relaying the events and something about that made me feel better. I felt better just listening to him because he wasn't trying to hurt me, he was always honest. "After we broke up the last time, when we were done." He was reassuring, he kept making sure I knew that "I wouldn't have done it if I thought we'd get back together."

I know. "You're not that kind of guy, Paul, your heart's too big."

Maybe I was too hard on him the last time, too upset, too focused on myself that I accused him of cheating and maybe it was in self interest.

His brows were furrowed now, looking over at me in silent questioning and I elaborated.

"I don't know why but letting myself think that you cheated somehow made me feel better."

That was comical to him, it seemed, and all the breath he was holding expelled all at once, a laugh on the end of it. "What?"

"B-because then we both fucked up in a way." I offered, shrugging when his laugh shortened to a small chuckle and then just a fond grin. Maybe it was out of place but we'd been at this so long, felt so much sadness for it that now it felt like old news. "It wasn't just me."

"It wasn't just you."

It was. "Don't act like I wasn't the one who screwed up. I know that I hurt you... a lot." Paul was smiling though, he always was, he was always open and understanding and he was reaching over to pull my hand from my lap, playing with it. "And I-I should've been more honest with you a-and with myself and I wasn't... I was never there for you."

I was terrible to him. "I was a bad boyfriend."

"Stop blaming yourself." He didn't even look up, taking time to match up our fingers as if he were measuring how long my hands were and he was pushing his through the slots.

Verbal vomit wouldn't let me forgive myself the way he did and I found myself trying to find blame to place on myself, Paul stayed calm. "I shouldn't have expected you to respond the way I wanted, I was angry with you for not saying that you loved me and i-it wasn't okay." It wasn't... It wasn't fair that I asked for so much after hurting him.

But I loved him, I did. That was real, I wasn't that selfish.

He stayed silent, pulling my hand to his lips, placing a kiss on my awaiting skin and I felt that same flutter in my chest. "You have to forgive yourself, Julian."

This beautiful man was shooting down all the claims I'd made in two seconds, his eyes on mine and he was smiling against my hand. Pulling away, he clasped it in both hands, turning to look directly at me, his foot was propped up in his seat now. "I messed up, I should've been more attentive, I should've tried harder, I should've communicated more but I let it bottle up..."

He was listing problems he'd had a hand in creating and this had to be the most mature conversation we'd ever had. Hands wrapped around mine, Paul was gentle with me but his word weren't.

He knew I loved him, he said that. Other people could see it, I didn't treat him terribly. Paul loved himself too much to stay with me if I wasn't worth it.

"And I can't be mad at myself for it because I can't change it. I can't do anything about it... We-we can't fall into this cycle of punishing ourselves for our past. You made me feel loved, always, okay?"

All I could do then was stare into his eyes, my heart racing. It was silent again and I decided that I didn't want this to end. I wanted to talk to him, I wanted to be close with him because I didn't know how long he'd allow it.

I loved him, I loved him, that was real. The doubt creeping up in the back of my head was depression, it wasn't me. I knew how I felt about him and he did as well.

It was often hard to remember a time when I wasn't low, hard to remember times where I was good to him but he was still looking at me fondly. There was forgiveness there and I tried to remember that he wouldn't have forgiven me if I wasn't worth it.

I tried to think positively.

Paul chuckled, it soft, he bit his bottom lip so slightly. "You know I really don't think I could ever be mad at you."

That was funny. "You've been mad at me before."

But he shook his head, "I haven't." He smiled to himself, "I've tried, and it's-it's hard to be mad at you, Jules."

"Even when you slept with someone else. I was just sad that you felt like you couldn't tell me." And there were tears in such beautiful eyes I felt my heart sink. "Be-because I, I thought that that was one of the good things about us, that we felt comfortable with each other, and we were forgiving of each other when-when things could get weird. I wasn't mad that you kissed Andy, I was mad at myself because you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"You should've been mad at me."

"I couldn't be mad at you for growing." He shrugged. "You hadn't... had a lot of experience. I know what it's like."

Leaning closer, I wrapped my other hand around his and we were sitting so awkwardly, eyes alight and lips pulled into their own respective giddy smiles. I pulled our intertwined hands to my lips, kissing the same way he did.

And I didn't wanna let go. "Did you wanna come in?" I'd offered, keeping that self control, holding onto the hope that he knew me more than I knew myself. Paul's voice was a small stutter then and I kept strong against the doubt in the back of my head.

He wouldn't forgive me, he wouldn't be here if I wasn't worth it. He loves himself too much to stay with someone who isn't good to him.

"C-Can I?" It was so cute the way he seemed unsure, going to grab for his keys as soon as I started nodding and all the good felt good again.

: : :

"Why do you put up with me?" I'd asked one day, even with everything feeling so right something in me didn't. It was a good day, we were in the dressing room of some store in the mall and I'd been trying on some shirts for his Aunt's wedding we'd have to attend a week later.

And everything was perfect, at least seemed to be. We fought about something stupid and small but that was a week ago and it was resolved, nothing was off, we were living life in the same perfect little oasis we'd crafted but fear was still bubbling in me. That was the thing about anxiety: it was always there.

It found itself little holes, little dips of insecurity and nestled itself in there, festering until it spread.

Like an infection that laid dormant in my body, it found its way to the surface and my fingers were trembling on the buttons of the dress shirt he'd brought in minutes before. I was breathing a little shakily and Paul was organzing shirts based on sizes behind me.

He didn't turn around, was still busy and I tried to calm myself down, tried to keep my mouth from running dry and I didn't want to cry.

"What do you mean?"

"I know it's not easy, Paul." Maybe he heard the desperation in my voice, heard the way my words started to blur together because he'd turned around then, alert. His eyes softened when they caught mine in the mirror. He was twining his arms around my waist then."Everything with me is so... difficult. You don't deserve that-"

"I don't want easy," he'd chuckled softly, chin on my shoulder and he rocked us. "I want you."

"Pablo-"

One hand around my waist, he curled the other around my bicep, hugging me to his chest and that was comforting, the same way he held me at night. I loved how he spoke then, it soft and breath on my ear. He was smiling, it serene. "All of it."

"Everything." He kissed me underneath my left ear. "Every single part of you."

He was speaking into my shoulder now. "Even if things are complicated and strenuous and confusing sometimes, I want that. I'd rather have that."

Slowly, I could feel myself relaxing, the edge my body had was dissipating into a lax state and my boyfriend was squeezing at my skin. "I'm sorry."

I definitely had to buy this shirt now, after I bordered on a breakdown in it, this was the one. A smile pushed at the edges of my mouth and Paul pulled away.

"It's okay." He'd reassured, turning around to grab a shirt off the hanger and he was unbuttoning the one on his body, it already halfway down. Tugging on the top, I bit my lip at the sight, moving to unbutton my own shirt, my new shirt.

Paul spoke, flipping the collar down and he was cuffing the sleeves. "You get angry sometimes and you say things that you don't mean, and I say things because I'm hurt." And that was so true but it still made me frown until he continued. "But we both know that we love each other... and when the fight's over, we always come back."

Maybe we shouldn't have been comfortable with it that way but Paul was leaning over to press a chaste kiss to my cheek, skin flushing under his lips and I was so content.

Love blossomed in my chest, pushing up through my lips and I smiled, words affectionate and I was giddy with the truth of them.

"You make me... so happy." He reminded and it felt so true, so real, so raw and honest and Paul was leant on me as I went to pull the shirt off my body. He was spinning on the balls of his feet, grabbing onto my collar and I definitely had to buy this shirt now. "Your love makes me feel like I can do anything."

He was staring into my eyes then, eyes soft and scrunched at the corners, he pulled me closer that way, kissing my lips.

"Why are you so charming?" I'd asked when I dragged myself away, a laugh in my throat when he moved to kiss my jaw and if he didn't stop soon, we wouldn't have tried on any other shirts. Biting my bottom lip, I curled my hand around his chin, pulling it up to meet his eyes, he was so stunning. "Seriously, if we weren't already dating, I would so have a crush on you."

Paul smirked then, leaning forward to steal another kiss. "Are you telling me that you don't have a crush on me?"

He was kissing me softly, pulling to brush his nose against mine and his fingertips danced along my hips. "Your mother's gonna kill us if we're late."

Paul chuckled, it vibrating through his skin and into mine, my breath hitching at the feeling. He went to kiss me again, only a peck and he stopped short before kissing me again.

And again and again.

"Then I'd die with you, my love."

A/N:

This got so long, I had to cut this chapter into thirds because it was literally 43 pages. Honestly, it's probably for the best case I was crying while writing it and really, I need to have time to plan the rest of this book out.

By the way, it's getting really hard to write parts with both of them that aren't super cliche because we all know them so well but I love a challenge. I also love writing this story and I love the interaction you guys have with these characters.

(I really also hate the fact that I have to wait a significant amount of time to post the newest chapters because I love writing this story.)

Updated: Friday, October 4th.

Netflix/Hulu recommendations? Drop them here. (I recommend Elite on Netflix and Misfits on Hulu, I like international shows sry) xx