Chance Encounters

thirty-one

[a/n: merry christmas, everyone! i hope you're all having a lovely time today!

i can't say how glad i am to have been able to finish writing this story. there's still one short chapter left after this, but that aside, this chapter's the one that ties the story together. i'm sure you guys already know what will happen in this chapter, but none

Chapter 31

When Tori and I made up, I knew I should have expected the Rom-Com marathons that were sure to follow. I loved Tori, yes, but when she showed up at my house with a bunch of movies five days later, I can't say I was completely enthusiastic about the idea.

Which was why, two hours and a box of pizza later, I was relieved to find Tori asleep halfway through the second movie.

As per usual, we'd set camp in the living room, shutting off the lights so that the shadows shifted along with the images on the TV screen.

Despite my recent realizations and growing doubts about what I believed about love all this time, I still couldn't seem to stomach the thought of watching a senseless movie about somebody whining, complaining, scheming and making obviously terrible life choices all for the sake of "love."

Which was why, thirty minutes into (500) Days of Summer, which, contrary to what Tori promised me, was not at all better than the rest of the stuff she'd made me watch, I was ecstatic to hear Tori's soft snores.

It was hardly past eight, but she must have been exhausted. There was some paperwork she and her mom had to settle, she'd told me, so she had been up since five earlier that morning.

Despite the fact that we'd forgiven each almost completely right away a few days ago, the two of us had known that there were obviously some things we needed to talk about, and I was happy when we managed to work through them so far.

The same day we made up, I'd told her about how I realized how distant she had always seemed to me; how much it hurt when she pushed me away instead of letting me in when she was dealing with the aftermath of almost getting raped.

"I'm sorry," she had apologized. "I just—I mean—I've always been the cheerful one, the easygoing girl who remained optimistic no matter what, and after that incident—after that night, I couldn't even bring myself to smile, and I didn't want you to see that side of me."

"But I wanted to be there for you," I told her. "And it hurt that you wouldn't let me."

"I just didn't want you to worry," she said. "I mean, you worry enough as it is."

"And you think shutting me out like that would magically make my worries disappear?"

"Sorry," she'd murmured, leaning her head against my shoulder. "If you'd seen how I had been during those first few months, I knew you wouldn't be able to do anything else but worry."

Perhaps she was right. I knew something was wrong with her, of course, but if I'd actually seen her; if I'd actually seen how much the night affected her; if I'd actually seen how broken she must have been, then I wasn't sure I could handle the worry and the anger and the guilt pressing in on me.

"That never would have happened if I had been there with you that night," I'd told her then. "I'm sorry."

She grabbed my hand almost immediately. "That wasn't your fault, Reed. That was never your fault at all, so don't apologize."

All the other words just seemed to spill afterwards.

I told her about how looking after her can get pretty exhausting and she told me about how frustrated she was about me never being completely honest about a lot of things. In the end, she made a promise to be more wary and less reckless and I swore I'd always try my best to tell her (and myself) the truth from now on.