What If It's All A RomCom? - Ted Nivison x Reader

Chapter 23: Confrontation.

"...Hi.."

I don't have words to describe how I felt opening my front door, how I feel looking at who's standing outside my home, leaning against the frame with one arm. The rain was coming down rather hard so he was pretty soaked, his black shirt looking heavy on his body. There are droplets fogging up his glasses and his usual tall hair is stuck on his forehead, appearing wet and curly instead of straight up.

Ted.

It's been nearly a month, only a month, but he looks...different. Older. Rougher, maybe. Even from where I'm standing, I can tell the last few weeks have been just as unkind to him as they've been to me.
...
No, there's no way he's been struggling. He doesn't GET to be straggling. No fucking way. HE'S the one that walked out, not just on me, but on Tanner. On the project. I don't care if it's almost been a month, I'm still pissed.
"I know you're mad.." Ted holds his free arm out as if to calm me, the rain still trickling down on his body, only ruining his clothes more. "And--And you're free to yell at me, to hit me, to call me whatever you want, but...can I come in first?"

It feels weird hearing his voice again. It's familiar, but also like a memory I can't completely comprehend. The anxious pit I'm getting in my stomach is definitely the most familiar thing here, but it's only making me angrier. Part of me wants to slam the door in his face, to leave him hanging the same way he left me hanging, the same way he left the team hanging....but I'm not him. I quietly step aside, giving him silent permission to enter my home. I hear a shaky breath escape him as he enters, like even he expected I'd deny him. I still kind of want to, but it's god awful out there and even he doesn't deserve to stand in that.

As he walks past me to remove his wet shoes, I see his Tacoma parked out front. This motherfucker. I live in Washington, did he REALLY drive all the way up here, even in this storm? Does he think this is some grand gesture that's gonna win me over, after what he did to one of my best friends? Absolutely not. He probably got high in his car so he could lie to me again. Bastard.

I close my front door, locking it before turning around to look at Ted, watching him awkwardly look around my living room. I step aside to go to the hallway closet, grabbing him a towel he can use to dry himself off. I can't get over how...different he looks. His hair no longer being tall and straight makes his head a little smaller, more defined. He's visibly aging, like he always looks a little bit tired. His scruff is shorter so it was shaved somewhat recently, and yet he seems to be growing in a thin, well maintained mustache like he said he would. It's the same face, same voice, but it almost doesn't seem like the same man.

Ted turns back to look at me, taking the towel from me with a soft, but uneasy smile. "Thanks.." Ted speaks quietly, beginning to dry his face, his hair and his glasses. It's been well over 3 minutes and I haven't said a word, I know. I'm just...I don't know what I should be feeling. Part of me wants to scream at him, to smack him in the arm, to shove him away and cry about what he did. I had just gotten over him, gotten over these harsh feelings of borderline abandonment, and now he's waltzed right back into my line of sight and my thoughts. I don't feel just anger when I look at him, and it just makes me even more frustrated.

"Nice to get to see your place..." Ted speaks again, continuing to cut through my angry silence with his own words. Even though I know he's stalling, I can also see that he's genuinely fascinated with my home, his warm eyes looking over all the art on my walls, the plants on my windows, how I have the couch angled. I can tell he's not just...looking, he's taking it all in, until his body turns more and his eyes meet mine. "It's...very you." I feel that all too familiar skip in my chest, his little smile curling up more when I don't look away from him. I don't want to look away. I wanna give him a piece of my mind.

"You're an idiot." Are the first words that come out of my mouth, like they were tugged out by that stupid smile of his. I see his smile fade almost immediately, awkwardly holding the now damp towel in his hands. I thought maybe starting with a petty insult would tone down all this built up frustration, but it doesn't. It only ignites it. "What the hell were you thinking, driving all the way up here?! You think this is gonna make anything better? Think this makes up for what you did?"
"No, I--" Ted tries to pipe up with a soft huff, his hand gently smacking the side of his thigh as he shrugs. "I'm not--"