BROKEN (Herophine Fanfic)

52

JOSEPHINE

DIVING INTO WORK IS SUPPOSED to help ease the pain of a broken heart.

But when the work starts with an excited email about the pics of you and your ex crawling around a hotel bed?

Not so much.

It's flattering that the perfume company wants more images in exchange for more money.

Hell, they even want me to shoot two more couples. To shoot the rest of their campaign.

It's not a lot of money.

But it's some.

And it's real work.

My first real photography gig.

Sadly, that doesn't make it any easier to stare at photos that scream Hero Fiennes Tiffin and Josephine Langford belong together.

It takes all night, but I do finally perfect the images.

There it is.

Sexuality.

The perfect thing to advertise perfume.

And illustrate my portfolio.

These are the best photos I've ever taken.

I guess professor Landry was right. I'm really at my best when I'm trying to capture something about my subject.

It's so clear here.

We belong together.

Why can't I feel that when I close my eyes?

Why do I keep seeing the hurt and confusion streaking Hero's expression?

I want to be with him.

Badly.

But only if he understands.

Only if he's willing to see all of me and accept it.

I try to sleep, but it doesn't happen.

I'm still shaking from the intensity of telling Hero.

I'm still terrified of his reaction.

He was listening, yeah, but once it sinks in...

I really don't know how he's going to take it.

When the sun breaks through my curtains, I give up on sleep. Send in the photos. Notice an email from Hero.

I texted this, but something tells me you've got your phone off.

I don't hate you.

Whatever happens between us, I need you to know that.

I'll never hate you, Jo.

I don't understand yet, but I want to get there.

No matter how badly it hurts, I want to understand.

I love you, baby.

I always will.

Please, be patient with me.

The words warm my heart.

And twist my stomach.

I'm sure he means them.

I'm willing to give him time.

But I'm not asking him to grasp some abstract concept of suicide.

I'm asking to accept that I spent months hiding my depression from him.

That I tried to kill myself instead of asking for help.

It's a lot to take.

Sometimes, I barely accept it.

I don't have a choice.

I have to exist in my skin.

But Hero...

He can always cut and run.

My typical morning routine--a run, a shower, a chocolate oatmeal and chai breakfast--fails to bring me back to life.

I'm still tuned to Hero.

The entire walk to work, the first three hours of grumpy customers, the next of mostly happy customers (it all changes around ten), the two chais that get me through the morning rush--

He's the only thought in my brain.

I try to lose myself in routine.

For a while, I do.

Then the door opens.

He steps inside.

My entire body buzzes with this strange mix of anticipation and relief.

He's chasing after me.

If he wants me enough for that...

God, I need him to understand. To accept me. To be mine.

"Hey." He moves straight to the register. There's no line. There's nothing else in the world that matters. "Cold brew. Almond milk."

A nod is all I can manage. "A large?"

"Yeah." He pulls out his credit card.

It's just like it used to be. I shake my head. "On me." I grab a cup, fill it with ice, then the house blend cold brew and plenty of almond milk.

His fingers brush mine as he takes it. He brings the drink to his lips. Groans through his first sip.

"I can't talk here." My fingers dig into the counter. My knees go weak. I'm not sure how I manage to stay upright, but I do.

"I know."

"But..."

"This is the best place in the neighborhood."

That is true.

"Now that I'm staying here--"

"What?"

"Until Mercy's graduation. I have an Air BnB around the corner."

"Oh." It's all I can say. He's here for two weeks. He's working his vacation around me. He's chasing after me.

He's here.

My heart thuds against my chest.

It's anxious to drop its walls.

To be his again.

I want that.

I really do.

But I can't take any more heartbreak.

"Did you tell her?" I ask.

"No." His eyes bore into mine. They promise the understanding I crave. "Do you want me to?"

"No. But... maybe she should know."

"That's your decision."

"Okay." That's fair.

"I know you want to scare me off, baby. But it's going to take more than that news."

A tear catches on my lashes. A laugh spills from my lips. That's so... that's absurd. But it's perfect too. "You're still hurt."

"You ran away."

"I'm terrified." Saying it aloud makes it more obvious. I have to face him. And myself. It's a lot at once. I'm not sure I'm strong enough.

"I know." His fingers brush the back of my hand. "I am too. But I'm here because I love you. Because I want to understand."

"Are you ready for that?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure as hell not ready to lose you."