Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 143.

Y/N's pov~

The last day felt like a lucid dream, as if I could do whatever I wanted in a world beyond Earth. But no, seriously, Reez had arranged for us to have an epic party boat just for the team, in the evening, though even the smallest "team" consisted of 200+ people. Most of them I didn't even know.

Tom still hadn't reached out to me, not even Parker could I speak to. Nikki and Dom, I probably wouldn't bother messaging, knowing Tom, he already had enough to deal with. So, my goal for today was simple.

"Let's get wasted!" I shook the two champagne bottles in my hands in front of my friends' faces. Wayne was immediately on board, and Maeve cautiously took the bottle from me.

"Has someone already had a drink?" She chuckled, my voice no longer the one it once promised.

"Maybe," I nodded proudly, looking aside. Clark stood on the sidelines with the set photographer, chatting and occasionally glancing over at us. His body adorned with a dark blue linen shirt and loose-fitting white trousers. I'd never seen him in that combination before, but I didn't want to pay the outfit too much attention. After all, I was here for one thing: to enjoy the last day. And to get drunk... That was two things.

"Well, you've earned it," Maeve said, taking me by the elbow and leading us to the bar, which made better drinks than shaken champagne. Under normal circumstances, I wasn't an extrovert, but feeling comfortable among people tended to make me, feel... well, a bit more liberated.

"Hey Wayne!" I shouted across the deck, his gaze too distracted by his friends until he turned to me. There were about ten meters between us, and I staggered a few steps toward him. "I bet you can't do this!" I held up my cocktail, and whatever was going on inside me, wasn't in the right mind. My attempt at a cartwheel quickly went downhill as two large hands prevented my hips from following through with the somersault. But at least I managed not to spill a drop until the person set me upright again. "Hey!" I squealed. My head was pounding as it spun another five rounds.

"Easy there, little one. Maybe we'll save the gymnastics for another time?" And he was probably right. With his dirty blond hair and mischievous brown eyes that I detested, because they reminded me so much of Tom's. Oh Tom... sweet as honey but the devil in bed.

"You have no idea." I ran my hand through his strands, trying to mess up his hairstyle, which he was reluctant to let me do, but he needed his hands to keep me standing upright.

Yet there wasn't much to ruin. How much glue did he put in his hair? Tom's curls were always fluffy. And soft. And so beautiful. I should call him. I tried to shake myself free from Clark's firm grip, which only succeeded after I had to push his hands away from me.
Stumbled a few steps across the floor and pulled out my phone, only then realizing how blurred my vision truly was. Should I call him or not? No idea. Would he pick up or not? I wouldn't even notice. Maybe I fell, maybe someone caught me.

But my head continued to spin as if there were a prize to be won. In my case, I stumbled. Woke up only later, though not on the dance floor where I had just been standing. I found myself on a couch on the yacht's rooftop, the music drowned out by the waves, and the night twinkled with the city lights.
"Well, well. Look who's awake," a deep voice shook me out of my thoughts, about to fall asleep again. I blinked a few times, taking in the frame lingering in my eye sight.
"Shit," I cursed, something I didn't usually do, but it had been too long since I'd gotten drunk and forgotten the side effects. How did Tom manage it?

"You were pretty hammered down there," he handed me a cold washcloth, which smelled so good that I took it without hesitation. It was infused with fresh mint mixed with various scent enhancers. But it was cool and it was damp. Perfect to rest on my forehead. If I hadn't done it, he would have.
"How long was I out?" I asked, and the blond hair in front of me shrugged. That was a good sign. It couldn't have been too long, or the sun would be rising and the party would be over.
"About 40 minutes," he estimated, settling down at the foot of my seat.

I sat upright, my back against the seatback, my legs bent. A cold breeze swept in from the dark sea, over my arms, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me, already halfway covered by it.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, placing a hand on my knee, stroking small circles that already formed a lump in my throat, and it wasn't because of the alcohol.

I shrugged, shaking off his hand, which caused his eyebrows to shoot over his hairline in confusion.
" 'm fine," I replied bluntly.
I still wasn't completely sober, but instead of raging, I now came to the realization that it was the last day. The last day I would see my set family, with whom I had grown so close over the months, and the last day before facing the cold reality. However, dealing with Clark was something that had to be done today, starting now.
"Listen, we can't continue this anymore," I stated, my gaze sharp on his face, needing his full attention, which was never a problem with him.
"Hmm?" he hummed, not fully understanding.
"I'll always be grateful to you for the good times, but I'm flying back to my family tomorrow..." Clark still seemed to not fully grasp it, to grasp I had a husband, to grasp we had a son.

"I'm going to delete your contact, Clark." But now he understood. He did more than just understand; at first, he refused to believe it, but soon began to nervously shake his head.
"Little one, please. You don't know what you're doing." But I did. I had enough time to consider it and be 100% sure it was the right path.
"Yes, I do," I nodded, standing my ground. He attempted to grab my legs again for physical closeness, and I allowed it only because he wasn't listening anyway, and I was strong enough not to be distracted by it.

"No, please!" bitter silence lingered between his words. A plea until a lightning bolt struck him.
"There's something between us, little one. You know it!" It wasn't a question, even less of a statement; it almost sounded like a gaslighting threat. Maybe I wasn't fair to him, but even less so to Tom. So, was what I was doing a good deed? Or a selfish one?

"I'm sorry," I apologized, tears in my eyes from headaches that wouldn't go away and emotions I couldn't control.
"You don't have to be! Stay with me, Y/N! I would never hurt you!" I wanted to believe him. Clark's eyes shimmered with increasing hope. I'm sure he would treat me the right way. Never doubted it. "I know a great kindergarten Parker could go to." But what was his solution? What did he expect me to do? Leave my family, my friends? I didn't belong here; I belonged to London, with my husband who needed me, with my son who had me.
"I love Tom," I dared to speak the truth, albeit in a soft murmur, fearing it would hit Clark hard, and it did, but he couldn't argue against it. He knew what it was like to love someone; he understood that my heart beat for Tom and not for him.

It was hard for Clark to accept though. He had been left by his wife back then because she had cheated on him. Now, he hoped I would do the same for him, not understanding what true love felt like, or he would understand why I chose Tom.
"But I love you..." he whispered, coming closer, hovering over me. Yet a deep look into my eyes was enough for him to see that I didn't love him back. And he stood up, rubbing a hand over his face, adjusting his stressed hair before nodding after a slow moment. He began to accept it.

A heavy weight flew off my shoulders, air flowed back into my lungs, and for the first time, I could take a full breath without pain. It was everything I had hoped for – that Clark would understand. I knew he had understanding, because he was Clark, and Clark was great, but Clark would never be mine...

"Remember my words, Y/N, because I meant them, and if you ever change your mind, I'll wait."
And he smiled, a tear streaming down his cheek before he went back downstairs, probably not to party anymore...

A cut remained in my heart for the rest of the night. It hurt to see him go down the stairs, knowing it was the last time I would ever see him... after everything we had experienced together, and all the feelings that flowed between us, I still knew it was right. No pain in the world was as great as the moment I realized I had lost Tom. My Tom.

~Not quite sure with this part, but I think it needed to be said. Now Y/N's finally going to be back in London...~