unrequited promises

Without saying a word, Heather turned on his heel and walked out.

"What is it, Heather- you won't even talk to me, tell me why you're so upset!" Jace yelled, fed up. Heather glanced away from him for a moment, ignoring the proximity between them. "It doesn't matter, Jason. "

"It doesn't matter? Of course, it matters- You're my best friend!" he waved his arms around as if trying to prove a point, oblivious to the way the two words bit into his 'best friend's ’ skin, the way they sunk into his soul like a shipwreck, crashing through the bottom. It twisted the ropes that held Heather's heart hostage,  a stark reminder of what was truly between them.

Best friends.
nothing more. And it stung. More than Heather could ever explain, more than he ever thought it would. "Why do you care anyway? You have her," he couldn't even get her name past his lips, not this time. Even if she hadn't been the one who hurt him, she knew, and still went ahead. And it hurt.

Though that was a massive understatement, one he couldn't quite put together, couldn't quite explain. He was a man of logic, not feelings. It was like falling in love with the very thing that killed you. Like falling in love with a burning hearth. It was warmer when you walked closer, but when you stepped too close, it burned. And if you pulled away, it got colder, emptier, like something was missing.

Like something was gone.

"What does she have to do with this? I'm talking about you now," Jace retorted, confusion flooding his features like molten silver. What does this have anything to do with her? His heart softened for a moment, though he wasn't sure who, and he glanced down to the new ring that adorned his pinky finger. It was simple, made of silver in companion to her gold. You're promised, he thought. You promised.
Once.

The memory of cloying laughter in a field of daffodils chased his mind, flirting with the corners of his mind, chasing him back and forth. The man that stood in front of him was replaced by a little boy, tanned skin paler, and the scars that Heather had gotten used to suddenly disappeared. A pair of molten silver eyes gazed at him, just as intently as they did now. But the dark circles under his eyes vanished, replaced by a youthful, joyful glow. Something in Heather ached and yearned for the boy before him, though it didn't ring quite as loudly as the want he felt echoing through him for the man before him.

Heather chuckled darkly. If only you knew, he thought. The corners of his lips quirked up mirthlessly. Quicksilver eyes dug into his back as if they could drill a way to his heart, to his mind. For a moment, Jace wished he could cleave his mind open, to take a look at what was inside. This was the furthest they'd been in ages, even though they were face to face. We're drifting.
I know.
Why? The question hung on the corners of the web of Jace's mind, like the unwanted drafts of things that had once been, soon set to disappear, though he clung onto it tightly.
—------

"I'll stay with you," the little boy whispered, dark curls bouncing up and down as he spoke. His robes were the only dash of splendour against the drab background that surrounded them, and not for the first time, Heather wondered if he was drab. What did you even see in me? In the mess of a boy I was, in the mess of a man I still am?
What did you see, Jace?
I can’t seem to see anything except a wreck, a mess, something falling hard enough they’ll shatter into countless pieces after. Tell me.
I’m begging.

A small hand brushed against his, soft fingers threading through his own. He let the smell of candy and mint fill his senses, soothing him. The scent of candy had long since been replaced with traces of nicotine, but Heather knew that some part of it, however abysmal it was, always felt the same. He always felt the same, in a way. No matter how much time had passed. If life was a math equation, Jace would have been his constant, someone he’d hoped would eventually become part of his solution. “Why?” The words left his own lips, a pair of wistful ebony eyes staring back at him. Only they were wider then, as compared to his now. Softer, perhaps. A slight blush frayed at the side of his cheeks, and Heather remembered the shaking, the trembling. The ember of hope that had found its way to his heart, no matter how much his mind berated his mind.