Strings (1 of 2)

Chapter 57 - Crash

He frowns and thinks it over. I can see the sadness forming in his eyes, making me regret bringing this up. 

"Kids grow up, Em." He says plainly after a second, and I frown, deflated.

"You know what I mean."

"I can't forget what happened between us. Can you?" He asks, a tiny sliver of hope hidden behind the emerald specks of his eyes.

"Never." I reply honestly. "But it doesn't mean I don't want you in my life. I need you."

"You don't need me." He cuts me off, looking down at the sand near his feet.

Is he crazy? He already saved me once this summer at the bar. Even despite that, I could never imagine my life without him. He is my oldest, realest friend.

I grab his forearm supporting his back up and he looks at me again.

"Yes I do! First and foremost, before anything else between us, you were and still are my best friend. Even when we don't speak for a bit, I know you're there. I could ask you for or about anything anytime." He nods, confirming what I already know. "And you could ask me anything anytime anywhere."

"I do miss laughing with you. Hanging out just like this." He says quietly and I grin.

"The rest of the world slipping away." I add and he nods, a smile growing on his lips.

"Let's make a pact." I grin and he rolls his eyes playfully. "Just like we did with Matt here that day."

"To get wasted on the beach once a year?" He chuckles, reminding me of Matt's drunken pact made all those years ago. I'm surprised he even remembers. We didn't come back very often after Dean got in shit with his parents.

"To always be best friends, no matter what." I say solemnly and hold up my pinky finger.

He laughs but loops his pinky around mine. "You're such a girl." He teases and I roll my eyes.

"And to always laugh with each other like kids." He adds.

"Always." I agree and we both grin as we open the second bottle of wine.

---

[Dean's POV]

I wake up to the familiar lavender scent of her long hair laid across the pillow near my nose. I haven't slept in this bed in over three years... it's weird waking up to the sight of her. A good weird. But an image I know won't happen again.

She's turned away from me, we both slept on our side facing the closed door, but I can see a little bit of her face if she doesn't move. 

I watch her sleep silently as I try to stop the replay of the last day in my head. If I think about it again, I'm going to break.

I want - no, need - to focus on our time together now. If this is the last time I'll wake up to her, I want to remember every second, not have it tainted with Ava's face in my head.

Emily would have never done that to me. Never.

Well, then again, she wouldn't have had to. She wouldn't have to try and trap me. God knows I wouldn't dream of going anywhere if she didn't make me.

I don't know if I will ever get over her. I have loved her for so long, most of my life, really. It seems inconceivable that I could find someone else to love as much.

Maybe after all this time, I only love the idea of what we could be. When we were together before, we were a mess. We had great moments together, some of the best of my life, but also some of the worst. We only even got together when we did because of the grief over Matt's death. Maybe that's all it ever was. Maybe that's what it still is. The lingering pain and sadness that doesn't fade, that we subconsciously linked to being with each other.