Some Semblance of Normal

At first it’s just arguments. The differences between you are the only apparent thing. He relies on instinct, you on facts.  How the two of you actually get any projects done is, at most times, beyond you. His chauvinistic attitude and distaste for anything logical infuriates you. You resist his charms and that infuriates him.

Then there are the special projects. The projects that show he’s more than just the misogynistic ass you know so well. The projects that reflect his courage and pride, intelligence and wit. Soon there are nights with Chinese food and movies, jokes and smirks. And you start to think that maybe you can overlook the unscientific approach he takes, and maybe consider him a friend.

Soon there are tears. Parents lost, moments of weakness, self-doubt, and indecision. You meet Jake and your life feels infinitely better, until yet another person you love leaves. Through it all, there he was. Drying your tears, making you smile. There are tokens and figurines, reminding you that he does listen and you can’t help but want to feel that maybe not everyone will leave.

As you become closer still, you find yourself burying forbidden feelings deeper than ever. There’s the line between friendship and more and you don’t want to deal with the chance for loss yet again. He’s now your best friend and has opened you up, but that final stone can’t be removed. After a medical scare (tumors should not be taken lightly, his doctor warned), you are in a panic, but he comes back again, helping you breathe once more.  In the following months, you begin to feel the shift between you. He finally erupts one day, telling you those three words you are most afraid of. You run.

Things go back to some semblance of normal after that. He tells you to forget it, don’t worry about him, but you can’t help it. You both go back to working on your projects and everything feels okay—until the accident. Even though he’s fine, it’s only his shoulder, you worry incessantly until you can see him. He’s on pain killers and mumbling under his breath and you apologize, but for what you aren’t quite sure. He focuses his russet eyes on you and you are overwhelmed by the emotions swirling from the depths of your heart. You finally say those three words back and he freezes. Your eyes well with emotion and you wait for him to hug you, smile, anything but the shocked look overtaking his handsome features. Your own smile falters as he tells you that he can’t. He’s been dating Jill, the girl from the twenty-third floor and he just, can’t. You apologize, and turn around, not wanting him to see your tears. He stops you as you reach the door, saying he’s so sorry, and you can only nod in silent, sad agreement.
You remain his partner, though you start reconstructing the walls he so carefully tore down. He has Jill, you have your work. Soon there is a wedding, a honeymoon (though neither is yours) and you tell him (and everyone else that you have to) that you are ‘so happy for him’, and you hate the fact that you aren’t. Life goes on and he doesn’t, can’t, spend nights after successful project pitches with take-out and a movie. He tells you that he’s still your friend (you both smile at the lie), that he’ll always listen (except when she’s waiting for him), that he’ll be there for you (except when she needs him) and you go along with each lie, not wanting to break the careful façade.

Finally after an especially hard day, he asks you for a drink. You go to the bar, sitting next to each other in silence. You can tell something has changed, but don’t mention it. After a while you both leave for home and you aren’t sure who is more discouraged about the prospect. Eventually these nights become more frequent and he finally tells you. There are lawyers and divorces and irreconcilable differences and you find out that part of it is that he didn’t want to, wouldn’t, leave the city just for her and it opens up a window. You aren’t sure who hates that more.

Months later, after another successful pitch to the investors, you stay behind in your office. There hasn’t been anyone to make sure you go home at a decent hour in a long time. You close up your office and take the elevator, though you can’t help but stop on the thirtieth floor on your way out. You see his office ablaze with light, even at 12:25, and you feel yourself walking to his office. You lean on the door frame and watch him stare off into space. When he finally looks up, you see the shimmer in his eyes and can only apologize softly. He nods and bows his head, hiding the pain dripping slowly down his cheeks. You cross the room quickly and put your hand on his shoulder, not knowing what else to do. When he finally puts his hand on yours in a silent acquiescence, you feel that final shift and know it will all be right again soon.

---------------
This is my first story on this site, thank you for reading! I have posted a few of my stories on other sites so if you see something like this, it belongs to me, Copygirl (also known as Silver.Wings34). Any others are reproductions.