"𝗪hat are you doing in here?" a voice from the doorway startled her.
Blake spun around and placed a hand on her chest, only relaxing when she noticed her best friend gazing upon her with questioning, dark brown eyes. That was a fair deliberation – after all, she was standing in her ex-boyfriend's room, rummaging through some of the boxes he kept in the closet.
Taryn entered the room further as she waved her off and stretched on her tippy-toes to the shelf that lined the top of it again; this was the last place in here that she hadn't checked, so she was sure that it would be stuffed back here, considering this was where she hid all the shit she couldn't look at back when they first moved in here years ago.
"Okay, crazy-pregnant-lady, this is sad," Taryn scoffed, stepping around her.
Blake frowned and rolled her eyes, moving out of the way to allow her friend to grab the box she desired. While she was only two inches taller than herself, it seemed like having that height was a prerequisite to getting the damn thing.
"Here," she said, handing it to her.
"Thanks."
She happily plopped down on the edge of Mason's bed, getting tired on these sore ankles of hers, and blew off the collected dust on the top, popping open the lid. Her smile grew wide as she took in the plethora of memorabilia from her childhood that she forced herself to forget way back when because the happy memories were much harder to accept than the bad ones; mostly because they were almost always bad, so the good ones just felt like a delusion much too unrealistic to be real.
Carefully placing all of the old papers and scrap journals off to the side, she almost squealed out in glee when she noticed the bear at the bottom of her self-made chasm. Her fingers wrapped around it quickly, reeling the overwhelming feeling of childishness and naivety; the fur was still so soft, even after all of this neglectful time.
"What is that?" Taryn asked, crossing her arms.
"Mr. Harold," she beamed, holding it up.
Her friend gave it a once-over before tilting her eyebrow up in concern. Blake just rolled her eyes and ignored her silent judgment; as the days passed, she was beginning to believe that Mason was right. She could practically feel that the little life inside of her was going to a girl, and so, she wanted to make sure that her future daughter had something of an heirloom.
"Enough about this," she breathed, "How was your flight?"
Taryn's façade shattered at the sound of her question, as it usually did when reality comes crashing in on the fake performance created to distract oneself from it.
Isaac had flown out to New York with her to see his mother a few hours after everything with his father happened. He was reluctant at first, only because he didn't want to leave Rueben and Mason in a time like this, but when Emmet urged that he could come back whenever – even tomorrow (which is now today), he up and left, taking that fact to its most literal sense.
She loved those three boys so much, but they all had one thing in common: they didn't mourn properly – or rather, never gave themselves time to process the loss of someone close to them before they were jumping onto the next topic.
"It was okay."
"How's Zac?"
"As well as one can be after losing their father," she crossed her arms, but not defensively, "I want to be there for him, but it's hard when I'm short of words. I, thankfully, have not experienced loss in the way he is right now, which makes it hard."
Blake nodded, "Do you think Mr. Harold will cheer him up?"
She gently tugged on the red bow-tie attached to his neck, wiggling him in the air. She knew it wouldn't, but she wanted to do something to make her best friend smile; even if she wasn't the one who lost someone, the mental toll of watching her husband wither was enough to make her worry about the both of them as a pair, equally.
"I wish," she half-smiled, "But I think he wants to be alone for right now. He mentioned that he was waiting for Mason and Rueben to come home, so," she shrugged, looking absentmindedly around the room as her words thinned out into the air.
Blake studied her friend as she brushed her manicured fingers through the faux fur. Over the last few months, they've grown more distant than she wanted to admit. While she focused on her pregnancy, overcoming her lack of personal growth, and dealing with a woman-child, and Taryn focused on all things mafia and Isaac related, they never had time to just sit down and be girls.
"What do you say we cuddle under the covers and watch a movie?"
A shadow of a smile crossed her face, "Horror?"
She dramatically stood up, "As if I'd be entertained by anything less."
"Where?"
"My room," she grinned, taking her by the hand.
Leading the way, she closed Mason's door and pulled her friend down the hall to the small upstairs area. Careful with her steps up the slippery, black steps, she laughed at impractical dad jokes Taryn was saying as they reached the second floor.
Popping open the cream-colored door, her smile instantly fell down.
Taryn let out a whistle and stepped back, "There goes that movie."
"No way — this changes nothing; it'll be quick."
"Want me to wait out here?"
"Yeah."
Blake let the door close behind her as she stared at the woman in front of her. Auden was leaning against her bedroom wall, one foot planted on the edge of the trim, her patchwork-designed arms crossed tightly across her chest.
If this had happened any other time in their history, she may have willed her legs to close this gap between them – to run over to her, ignore the trespassing and kiss her on the mouth. She would want her to drop the scowl on her face and beg her to glance at her as if she was the world — created in her name.
But this wasn't a school project, and they'd run out of supplies to create such an illusion long ago.
They weren't the same people who existed in those memories anymore—at least I'm not.
"What are you doing here?" she forced out, wetting her throat.
"To talk."
"About what now, Auden," she scoffed, walking over to her bed.
Blake again, felt the need to sit down – these pregnancy side effects were really getting to her. Though, as she did it, she kept her stuffed animal clutched between her fingers; having newfound security made her realize how little they existed in her favor.
"Us."
"There's no us," she looked at her, "You've made that consistently clear."
"Well, things are different now," Auden's dark eyes bore into her without emotion.
Her eyes twitched as she narrowed them in her direction. Nothing about this moment seemed different; from the guarded stance, wide distance, and monotoned bullshit, it was all exactly the same to her.
It took this minuscule interaction to realize how much she didn't need this — the mind tricks, the lack of consideration or care. If there was one thing that stayed fluent about this woman, it was her intense need to make sure everyone around her cowered at her feet. She knew, as she stared back at her stoic expression with a soft one, that that would never change. Staying with her meant purposeless games – a partnership that would never be equal.
I don't need that.
I don't want it either.
"No, they're not," she decided to reply.
Auden had to have sensed some type of exhaustion in her voice because she crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to her. Her hands landed on the mattress only inches away from hers; without thinking about it, she recoiled and balled her fists in her lap, keeping them safe from the physical manipulation that continuously pulled her back under her spell.
She noticed that, too.
"Are we okay?"
"Sure," Blake nodded, "I don't have any hard feelings."
"That's not—" she exhaled, "I mean, are we still together?"
A laugh escaped her mouth without her meaning too, "No, Auden – I think it's time to put us to rest."
She frowned heavily and tipped her body back in the opposite direction from her own. It dawned on her that the possibility of rejection was something she never experienced. Then again, she doubted she could keep a relationship – or whatever this was – for as long as she kept it up with her, in the past.
While she was a gorgeous, masculine woman, who most definitely drew the attention of men and women alike as she entered rooms, she was just that. A pretty face. A hot body. But the personality?—it's where any sane person would press the fucking brakes.
She just hadn't realized her foot had been taped to the gas until right now.
Auden stood up and ran a hand through her hair, "So, after everything – after I forgive you for fucking my coworker, you think it's just fine to tell me you're done? God, this is such bullshit."
"Wait," Blake snorted, "Forgive me for sleeping with Asher? First of all, I didn't know we talked that through – was this some amazing personal conversation you had by your lonesome before coming here? And secondly – I don't want your forgiveness?—I'm not sorry for being with him."
"I punched him in the face because of you," she whipped around, "I got suspended because you decided to spread your legs for one of out the two men I can actually tolerate!"
"No," she shook her head, amused, "You got yourself suspended. No one told you to do that. And last I checked, he's single, I'm single – we're both consenting adults who can do what we want."
"You only slept with him to get back at me!"
Blake laughed, "Maybe so."
Her body was heaving up and down with angry breaths – her eyes were fuming. All of this, in the past, would have alarmed her. It would have sent purge-like shivers down her body in representation of fear as she never wanted someone she cared about to look at her with anger. But now?—sitting in front of her and watching the tantrum unfold without an ounce of romantic emotions left for her?—it was just comical.
After a few minutes, and many pacing steps later, she spoke again.
"Okay, so we're even," she sat back down, grabbing her hands this time, "Can we try again?"
Blake had to force her to let go, "No."
"Why not?!" she yelled.
She watched her with bored eyes as she flung up again, pacing once more, "Because being with you isn't something I want anymore. You're not stable. You're too insecure to open yourself up. I'm a grown fucking woman, Auden," she looked at the ground, "I need to start acting like it."
"Oh, and what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm about to be a mother!" she raised her voice now, "It means that being with you is too damn stressful for my fucking baby, and it means I need to stop acting as if everyone's world revolves around me! I need to put my baby first. I need to grow the fuck up, and I will accomplish neither of those if I stay put, mothering you!—because that's what this feels like! This doesn't feel like a relationship, it feels like you're giving me a trial run on what it's like having a narcissistic toddler!"
"Narcissistic!?" she bellowed, laughing like a maniac, "You just made that up."
Blake wanted to bend over, wrap her arms around her stomach, and fall to the ground in hysterical laughter. She wanted so badly to open up this woman's eyes and to let her see herself in the reflection of a mirror that's not fucking broken, but that would never happen. She was always mentally going to be like this. Manipulative. Curt. Coarse. Selfish.
A broken track on an endless loop, reminding her to do nothing if there wasn't something in it for her.
"Just get out, Auden," she said instead, keeping herself collected, "We're over. This is it."
But she didn't do that.
Rather, she crossed the small space between them, grabbed her harshly by the sides of her face, squishing her cheeks together and turned, slamming her into the wall behind her. Her black eyes were saucers – dilated but so void, so empty. A place of no return.
Blake let out a small whimper as her head cracked against the drywall, but she kept her face as solid as she could muster; she didn't want her to see the obvious power she had over her.
"Auden ... let go of me," she demanded quietly.
"We're over when I say we're over."
"That's not how it works—"
Blake closed her eyes and twisted her face away from the area of impact as Auden slammed the heel of her palm into the wall beside her head. She was screwing them closed so hard, that she was beginning to enter the distant world of filtered stars.
She focused on the reds and blues and whites as Auden continued to slip venom in her ear.
And just when her face began to ache, and she thought it may never end, a slapping sound entered the space of her room. When she felt no pain anywhere on her body, she slowly tore her eyes open to see what made that noise.
She let out a silent plea of 'please stop it' at the sight before her.
Taryn was inches away from Auden, looking at her with a look she reserved for those who faced her in mafia business. The coldness of both of their gazes made the room feel like a walk-in freezer; she felt if she moved a limb, it would break off from fragility.
Her friend was holding the wrist Auden was using to pin her against the wall.
"Let. Her. Go," she pronounced each syllable separately.
She didn't even regard her; Auden pointed her gaze in her direction.
"We could have been great."
"You only have yourself to blame," Blake pushed out, finding it hard to speak.
Her eyebrows flinched, but then as quickly as she touched her, it disappeared twice as fast. Almost as if she moved with the wind, she was out the door and it was slamming in her wake. Blake lowered herself down to a flat stance, as she was pressed so hard she was forced on her tippy-toes.
"Are you okay?" Taryn asked in a soft voice.
She thought she was.
In fact, she knew she was.
So it was an interesting surprise when she raised her palms to catch the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Somewhere in translation, Taryn's arms were looping around her shoulders; they ended up in a pile on the ground.
Even if it hurt right now, she knew that in the future, this would be a distant pain. Instead of being like a punch to the gut, it would feel like a thumbtack to the pad of her thumb.
She chose to focus on that.
"Shh," Taryn patted her hair, "I've got you."
Blake clung to her embrace; I'll be okay.