This isn't weird.

Ben Hates Coffee

The doorbell rang abruptly, and Millie very nearly dropped the coffee pot. Who could possibly be at the door this early? Perhaps Arthur was looking to surprise her with an unscheduled breakfast date. The idea annoyed her. She didn't want to be surprised. Maybe Tess was just having a package delivered. She dawdled, waiting to hear if it would ring again. It did. Grumbling, she walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

Millie was disconcerted to see Indigo on the other side of the door. She knew that Tess spent a great deal of time with him, presumably at his place, but she had never seen him here. It felt terribly strange.

"Sorry, Tess isn't here right now—" she started as she opened the door, but he cut her off.

"Ben hates coffee," he said.

Millie blinked, arched her eyebrows for a second, then blinked again. "What?"

"Ben hates coffee," he repeated. "He's always hated it. He says it tastes like charbroiled self-loathing and makes him feel like he forgot to turn the oven off."

"What are you talking about, Indigo?" she asked. There was an edge to her voice and grief in her eyes. "Ben and I used to drink coffee together every day."

"I know," Indigo said. "He forced himself to drink it because he wanted to spend time with you."

Millie studied his emotionless face as her own expression vacillated between confusion, sorrow, and something approaching, but not quite, anger. "Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I came to tell you he ended things with Cassie."

"Oh." Millie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her feet. She could feel Indigo's eyes on her face, but she couldn't bring herself to meet them. Finally, she asked, "When?"

"Two weeks ago. Saturday night. Game night."

That made her look up. "That's... great. Good for him," she mumbled, then cleared her throat. "Did he ask you to talk to me?"

"No," he replied. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Oh." She hesitated, then took a small step to the side. "Do you... want to come in? I just made coffee."

He nodded, then followed her to the kitchen, where she poured two mugs of coffee before sitting down at the table in the seat adjacent to his. They both sat still and upright, though Millie's fingers tapped incessantly on the side of her cup.

"Is he...?" she started, but trailed off. Indigo looked at her expectantly until she spoke again. "Does he seem... I mean, has he, um..." She took a deep breath. "How is he doing?"

"Still quite depressed," he replied, "but he's Ben again. He hasn't drank since that night. It's been nice to have him back... He wants very badly to see you."

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't have to."

She subtly tilted her head toward the ceiling as she blinked back tears.. "I'm glad he's doing better, but I... I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?"

"It's complicated," she said. "Everything is so... fucking... complicated."

"Millie." Indigo put down his coffee and fixed her with a hard stare. "You're hurting him."

"I'm just trying to make healthy decisions."

"You are hurting him," he repeated slowly.

She finally met his gaze, and for a long moment they just looked at each other. For the first time, she realized that although Indigo's face may have been expressionless, it was far from emotionless. His eyes simply didn't need help from the rest of his features to express what was happening behind them. She wondered how often people actually looked at him long enough to figure that out. Her mind drifted back to his birthday party, and the conversation she had shared with Ben in the kitchen; it felt like a lifetime ago. They had discussed Indigo, and she had marveled at Ben's patient efforts in getting to know him. Pretty sure the poor guy just wants someone to look at him, but doesn't know how to ask, he had said to her.

Ben had looked at him long enough to figure it out.

A rogue tear splashed over her cheek as Millie suddenly reached forward and grabbed Indigo's hand. "We understand each other," she whispered. "Don't we?"

His nod was nearly imperceptible.

"I don't want to hurt him," she said.

"Then don't," he replied.

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy. You're just a coward."

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. "I know."

He squeezed her hand. "It's obvious you're dying to see him, Millie."

"Everything is just... so different now. He's changed. I've changed. I don't think we can ever get back to normal," she said.

"The two of you were never normal," he replied pointedly.

"Maybe not. But after everything that's happened... and the way I treated him the last time we saw each other... He has to hate me."

"He told me about that night."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said he was pushy. He was afraid that he had assaulted you."

Millie's eyes widened. "No! No, it wasn't like that. Oh, god, no. I—I panicked a little, I didn't mean to push him away so hard, I... I never felt like I was fighting him off."

"I did my best to set his mind at ease."

"What did you say?"

"That if you felt even the tiniest bit like he had tried to force himself on you, Tess would already have murdered him."

Millie couldn't help but crack a faint smile at the sentiment, but it faded as quickly as it appeared, and she buried her face in her hands. "We keep hurting each other."

"Talk to him, Millie."

"I can't."

"Talk to him."

Closing her eyes, she pictured Ben's face, what he would look like after a week of sobriety. Like himself, perhaps. The shine back in his eyes, his lips upturned into a boyish grin. The image made her heartbeat quicken. She thought about Arthur, and the long kiss that they had shared the night before. At the time, she'd felt so safe, so wanted; she had finally begun to entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe, she could learn to love him. At the time, the thought had seemed comforting. Now, it made her stomach queasy.

Then she thought about Cassie. So, she was gone now. But did that really change anything? It didn't make her heart feel any less destroyed when she remembered that night in the elevator. It didn't ease the devastation of knowing he was with her while she was naively rehearsing that stupid speech she had written for him.

"Please," Indigo said.

Millie took a deep breath and looked at him. "I'll think about it,"

Placated, Indigo nodded and stood up. "I should go," he said. "It would be better if you didn't mention to Tess that I was here."

"Okay," she agreed, rising from her chair to walk him to the door. "Um... Thank you, Indigo. For telling me all this. And for being his friend." She wiped a fresh crop of tears from her face. "You can tell him—"

"No," Indigo cut her off. "If there's something you want him to know, you should be the one to tell him."

Millie laughed a bitter little laugh. "I guess that's the whole point of this conversation, after all."

"Indeed." Indigo stopped in front of the door, and turned to face her. She waited for him to say something, but instead, much to her surprise, he reached forward and hugged her. It made Millie oddly aware of the fact that they were nearly the exact same height, and that she couldn't remember the last time she had been embraced by someone who wasn't significantly taller than her. The realization gave her a strange sense of camaraderie.

"Hug him for me, at least," she said as she pulled away. "Don't tell him it's from me, just... I want to know that somebody properly hugged him today." 

"I will," Indigo agreed. "I promise."

Later that day, when Ben came home from an afternoon of running tedious errands, he was surprised by—but not ungrateful for—the unexpected hug that awaited him there.