For you| Pedro Pascal

25. Need you.

Bacon. Coffee. Bacon and coffee? I pushed myself up from the pillow and quickly gripped my head as it ached. "Fuck," I whispered. I looked around and saw the crisp grey sheets. They smelled like him. And for a moment, my heart felt content. Until I remembered that I don't belong here anymore. I quickly stood up and walked to the set of drawers. I grip the bottom drawer, hoping it hadn't been cleared out. My black yoga pants and tees were still there. I pulled out a set and quickly shimmied into them. I look around the room until I find my bag, grab it, and rush towards the front door. A wave of disorientation rushes over me and I stumble but quickly recover.

"Hey, hey, hey. Easy. Just take a seat," Pedro says. I listen. Not because I want to but because my body is telling me to. He hands me a cup filled with coffee. It smells great and I instantly recognize that it's from his fancy coffee maker. I missed it. I missed everything that was in here, including him. "I'm sorry I called you. I didn't have anyone else," I start, but he's already shaking his head. "Don't be. I'm glad you don't hate me enough to not call when you need something." Well that stings. "I don't hate you," I whisper, looking down at my cup. He sits down across from me on the other side of the sectional. I picked these out and now I feel like a stranger sitting on them. "Andy, I saw Sam last night." My heart sinks for the millionth time since yesterday. "What? Where?" I start asking. "Leaving that bar last night. I found you and some guy was talking to you. I didn't recognize him at first. But then, as he was walking away, I knew it. Look, I don't know much about last night but I know it wasn't a coincidence Andy." He looks frustrated and tired. His eyes are a bit dark and his hair is messy.

Sam talked to you. Sam was there and you couldn't even be alert enough to know it was him. Fuck. "Andy?" Pedro says. "Yeah. No, I'm glad you knew it was him. I sure as hell didn't. Look, thanks for helping me out last night. I owe you, but I need to go home right now." I say, setting the coffee down and standing up. "Andy, wait. Please." He begs. I turn to him. "I don't want to talk about any of this right now. I have to go." I grab the handle to the front door, but his hand pulls my shoulder back. "Please. Just give me ten minutes." Give him the ten. Then you can leave.

I sit back down on the couch. "I wasn't out with him. I swear. I was out with some girls I had just met and it just," I begin. He puts a hand on mine. "Stop. I didn't even think, shit Andy. I know you wouldn't have been there with him. And you don't owe me an explanation. I just want to know that you're okay. You. That's it." I look away. I can't look at him. I'm miss him. I also hate him. I hate what...what the baby did to us. I fight back my tears. We just look at each other. For a few moments, it's like we are us again. Until we aren't. His eyes grow sad again and mine do the same. "I miss you." He says. "I'm hurt, I'm lonely, I'm heartbroken. I just miss you Andy. It's like you have a life I know nothing about when no more than a few months ago, we were sharing it. I miss you." I want to give in, but I don't. Instead, I wipe my tears away. "Are you still spending time with your friend?" I ask, coldly. He stays quiet. "Then you don't get to say you miss me P." He sighs, looks down to his shoes, then back up. "And you? You're still working with that guy. Don't think I forgot. I saw him. At your hotel as I was leaving." He says, his tone a bit snippy. "You saw me calling out to you, and you still decided to leave?" I ask him, my eyes pooling with tears. "We work together, you said it. Yes we work together. And that movie wrapped up two months ago. I'm not snuggling up with him in my apartment. I've been home and you haven't even reached out to me. I'm not reliant on a "friends" comfort right now. I miss you a lot. But I'm not healing the way you are and it... it's hard. I'm alone. I have no one. My family is practically dead to me. Cassie and I aren't talking the way we used to. I don't have a new project scheduled. I was...," I stop and take a breath. "I was supposed to have a baby coming. And now I have nothing. You were all I had. That's it. And things got too hard for you. Because my grieving was too hard for you."

Pedro stands up. "No!" He snaps. "It wasn't too hard for me Andy. You decided to leave me out of it." I stand too. "That's bullshit! I couldn't even form words after the hospital and you couldn't even give me a week to figure out how to feel. I didn't leave you out of anything, you didn't even give me a chance to leave you out of it. You walked away after 5 minutes." My heart is racing with anger. It's the first time I've felt anything other than sad. He slams his hand on the wall he's propped up against, then straightens himself up. "That's not true," he starts. "But it is," I cut in. "You said you weren't going to deal with it and that was that." He looks up. "Andy, I was also grieving," he says, still a bit defensive. "You don't think I'm that self-centered, do you? You think I don't know that? That you were also hurting? Look P, I wasn't looking for this conversation today. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you last night."

I start picking my bag up once again. "You don't mean that," he says, his eyes glossy. "You used your ten minutes. Ten minutes just to tell me you miss me but you're still seeing your friend and throwing my coworker into the mix. That's what you wanted to talk about?" He turns around, not making eye contact at this point. "My god Andy, I'm not seeing her! I keep telling you that. She's a friend and nothing more." I decide I no longer want to carry on this discussion.

I push through the front door and rush down the stairs that lead to the lobby of the apartment building. I make my way outside, attempting the hail a taxi as it pours violent rain. One car turns his service light off as he pulls over towards me, but before the driver makes a complete stop, a hand pulls my shoulder around and spins my whole body towards the opposite direction. His lips push against mine and his hands resting on my cheeks. I pull back after what feels like an eternity and look at his face. His hair is soaking wet, water beading down over his eyes and onto his face. His sad eyes make my heart ache. "I need you," Pedro says. Say it Andy. You need him too. I don't. I give his hand a slight squeeze before pulling the cab door open and letting him go. I shut the door and the car drives away.