It was becoming kind of ridiculous. It started off with dreams. Fairly innocuous ones, as far those kind of dreams went. Talking, laughing. In weird places sometimes...in the classroom of her childhood school or at a random carnival. No rhyme or reason, really.
When the dreams were like that, it was simple to reason that they occured because of the sheer amount of time that they spent together. Some of it was obviously out of necessity; character development and workshops and getting to know one another. It seemed like a no brainer that he was a part of her unconscious thoughts when he'd become such a huge part of her waking hours.
So, she didn't make a big deal out of it...there wasn't any existential crises. He was also becoming a good friend and the more she got to know him, the greater the level of trust became.
Then she broke up with Taylor.
No one wanted to leave her alone...every person in her life seemed certain that she was going to fucking fail apart at any given moment. They were concerned, but after awhile of everyone's concern, all she wanted was silence. If she had to hear, "how are you holding up?"one more time, she was going to scream.
When Bradley knocked on her door that following Tuesday, she hadn't slept in three days or barely eaten. She was walking underwater. Taylor's things were still in her garage and she was too numb and angry and lost to cry.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Stefani smacked her forehead, "were we supposed to meet today? My head is just all over the place."
She was pretty certain she looked like a wreck. When was the last time she showered? It probably wasn't a great sign if she couldn't remember.
Pulling the elastic up on her sweats, she tried to straighten out the messy bun, to smooth down the t-shirt she was fairly certain was one someone had left there years ago.
"We don't. Not until Friday. I'm sorry for just showing up. I should've texted or..." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, cheeks reddening.
"No, no, come on in."
Stepping aside, she rubbed bleary eyes, motioning him into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"I'm good." He trained bright blue eyes on her, pausing.
She could sense his hesitation. "What's up, Bradley?"
"Actually, I'm here because I know you're not doing okay. Maybe the last thing you want is one more person worrying about you, but I wanted to ask you what you need."
"What?"
Vaguely, Stefani realized that she sounded stoned.
"What do you need?" Bradley repeated patiently. "Could be wrong, but no one's asked you that yet, have they?"
His inquiry was so gentle, it completely took her aback and she sunk into the sofa cushions.
"No. In fact, I get the impression they're all just waiting for me to break down."
Bradley lowered himself to sit next to her. "I don't think you're going to break down. I know how strong you are. I see it, everytime we do a workshop. Everytime we talk, actually. But I also know all of this can't possibly be easy. If what you need is to be alone, I respect that."
She dragged a hand across her forehead, burying her face in the crook of her arm. "What if I don't know what the hell I need?"
"Then we start with something small."
