WILD THING (18+) - COMPLETED

HIM/HER/HIM TOO

The surprise on Ben's face should have been the first sign for Jonah to notice something wasn't right. There had been far too many mornings when he'd come to Ben's door, sober, drunk, happy, sad, tired, for his appearance today to be a surprise.

But he wasn't all there. His mind was clouded with worry. He walked past Ben and into the apartment, stopping in the middle of the living room.

Ben seemed to finally unfreeze from his shocked state in the doorway. He pushed the door closed and walked to Jonah, his forehead creasing, a concerned look entering his eyes.

"Jonathan," he said gently, putting his hand on Jonah's shoulder. "Sit down. Tell me what's wrong."

Jonah allowed himself to be led to the couch, his motions mechanical. Ben sat down next to him and cleared his throat.

"What's wrong, man? You've got me worried," he said. Jonah sighed heavily, dragging his hands down his face. He clasped his hands under his chin and huffed out a breath.

"Cara is missing," he said. If he'd looked at Ben at that moment, he'd have seen his second sign. The concern in his friend's eyes morphing into guilt, then panic. Ben's eyes darting in the direction of the bedroom then back at him, then at the door, gauging how convincingly he could get both of them out of the door quickly without seeming insensitive.

"She went out last night with her friends," Jonah continued, completely oblivious to the moral dilemma playing out on Ben's face.

"Laurie said she went to the bathroom and didn't make it back. We've looked everywhere, Ben. What if something bad has happened to her?"

Something had happened to her, alright. Whether it was bad or not was a conclusion best left to Cara herself.

***

Cara awoke, groggy and dry-mouthed, the sun streaming in through the windows too warm on her skin. She felt awful – the way you'd feel if you'd been awoken from a deep sleep too soon.

She looked around the room she was in, and her brain stuttered for a moment. The room was unfamiliar. She saw a man's clothes at the foot of the bed, crumpled over her sequined dress, and everything came rushing back.

Every. Thing.

Blood rushed to her face, her ears, and a headache started up in her head. God, she was an idiot. What had drunk Cara gone and done? Ugh. She needed water.

She got off the bed, dragging one of the white cotton sheets with her, and made her way to the door, silently praying Ben had some painkillers on hand.

At the door, her hand froze over the knob. Was she hearing things? It sounded like two people were having a conversation on the other side of the door. Or maybe it was the radio? Maybe Ben was the kind of person who listened to morning shows on the radio.

Cara smirked. That was such an old person thing to do. She pulled open the door and stepped out, a joke about old age ready on her lips, then froze when she realized it wasn't the radio.

***

Jonah stopped mid-sentence when Cara emerged from Ben's bedroom. Dressed in nothing but a white sheet and a deep blush of shame. Suddenly, the retrospective clues started to click into place.

Ben looking so surprised to see him.

The two coffee mugs on the kitchen counter.

Ben quickly saying they should go outside to look for Cara.

Of course. Of course. God, how long had they played him for a fool?

In that long moment of realization, it felt like everything around Jonah had frozen, including his traitorous girlfriend and friend. When the clarity hit, the scene unfroze as well, and Cara took a step forward, a beseeching hand held out before her.

"Jonah, it's not –"

"It's not what it looks like?" Jonah said, laughing lightly, mirthlessly. He looked at Ben, who hadn't said anything since Cara's unceremonious appearance, and who was now looking at the floor beneath him.

"It's exactly what it fucking looks like," Jonah said. He stood up and walked to the door, pulling it open then slamming it shut after him so hard it shuddered in its frame.

***

Ben was frozen. Damn it, it felt like since Cara had stepped into his life, he'd been freezing so damn much. He heard the slam of the door when Jonah left, heard Cara run out after him, heard the sound of Jonah's car peeling out of the driveway, and heard Cara come back into the apartment.

He only unfroze when he heard her crying. It was like hot water on the ice of his joints, and he was up before he knew it, crossing the living room to take her in his arms.

But she wouldn't let him. She put out one hand to stop him and swiped at her tears with the other. And looked at him like this was all his fault.

"He wouldn't listen to me," she sobbed, and Ben felt himself ripped in two.

How did he offer any honest comfort to the woman he had feelings for when she was crying over another man? When she was looking at him like he'd tricked her into wanting him, like he wasn't the one who'd tried to walk away in the first place.

"He needs time alone," he said, and the knife in his chest twisted.

Something shifted in Cara's expression, and her eyes widened in some personal realization.

"This is all my fault," she said, and Ben would've done anything to have her shift the blame back to him, because this he definitely couldn't take. Her looking so broken and loathing of herself like this? He couldn't take it.

He tried to reach for her again, and her recoil pushed the knife in to the hilt.

"I need time alone too," she said, eyes red, cheeks wet. "I need you to take me back to my dorm."

"Cara, don't –"

"No, you don't! Don't! My greed has led us here. I can't be around you right now."

Of course. Ben felt the whole knife disappear into his chest. She'd never been his in the first place. Why did he think he could hold on?