Emma Watson, Florence Pugh, Elizabeth Olsen, oneshots (GxG)

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 ⚌ 𝐄.𝐖

Y/N was falling out of love with me.

I could tell by the way she looked at me, it wasn't the same, it wasn't the same love or admiration-filled look that she usually gave me.

But it was as if she felt nothing at all. And that was worse. I would rather she hate me, or be angry at me, to show I still mattered to her even if it was because of hate.

But I got nothing.

Her eyes were void when she looked at me, but anything else her eyes would light up as if she hadn't been happier in years.

And I started to wonder if that was true.

But she didn't say anything so over the next few weeks I did everything I knew that she liked.

I cooked her favorite meals. 

I cleaned around the house.

I did anything she asked. Which wasn't a lot but I did everything.

I did things I knew she liked in sex, I wore her favorite lingerie. I let her do anything she wanted to me but still, I got no reaction.

Even when we went out with friends her attention would be on anything but me.

I know they noticed but said nothing about it but tried to incorporate me in the conversations and only then would she give me the time of day I so desperately craved.

But the second we got in the car to start our drive home, she was silent again, and the light that was in her eyes disappeared, and it was dull again.

I wanted to ask what I could do to make it work, what I could do to make her feel the same way again.

But it seemed that nothing I did was working she just wasn't there with me.

Mentally or physically, emotionally.

She was just tapped out. And I didn't know what I could do, I didn't know what she wanted.

It just hurt.

So when we got home she took her spot on the couch, which was a reoccurring event. She slept on the couch unless I asked her to come to bed with me.

I sat on the other end of the couch. And she looked up from her phone finally showing an ounce of emotion; confusion. But I was happy, it was something.

My hands rested in my lap as I looked around anxiously, the question that's been on my mind racing through my thoughts but I didn't know how to ask.

When her hand came into contact with mine I jumped, and she retracted her hand but I grabbed it holding it in my lap, happy I was in contact with her at all.

I took a glance at her and saw that she was looking at our clasped hands, "are you okay?" She asked slowly, her eyes meeting mine as she showed concern.

"I should be asking you that. Are you okay? Are we okay?" I asked quickly and the concern slowly morphed into guilt. "Is there someone else?" I asked quietly my voice cracking the slightest.

"Em- Emma, there's no one else." My heart broke as she didn't use my nickname.

"So it's something I've done, is it? You've been nothing but distant these past few weeks and I don't understand. I've done everything to try and get you to acknowledge me or give me the time of day. But nothing is working! So what is it?!" By now my voice was trembling with anger and uncertainty and she had buried herself into the cushion.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm so sorry it's nothing you did, really it isn't. I just.." she huffs out a breath her eyes looking down at the ground in front of her, as I squeezed her hand in my lap, letting her know that I was still there, albeit I was angry. "I don't know why I've treated you like this. You're beautiful and amazing and you deserve someone who recognizes that you are. Not someone who takes you for granted."

I then realize what she's building up to and I shake my head, "No! No, no, no, you can do that! You've done that already! So just do it again!" I plead tears now running down my face and see tears on her own.

"I'm sorry Emma. But I can't."

And that's what she told me all night when I pleaded for her to stay and let us work it out, but she told me she couldn't. She held me through the night and I cried in her hold.

Praying that when I woke she wasn't gone. But life is cruel, and I woke alone. The bed felt empty, but the hole in my chest was much larger.