An Amalgamation of One Shots

Breaking Love

I should have known. Now that I think about it, I probably did know. Beforehand, I mean. I just didn't want to accept it. But standing there, naked as the day I was born (except for a skimpy lingerie set and a thin silk robe draped around my shoulders) there really wasn't anything I could do but accept it.

"Ben.... Ben..." She gasped breathlessly as he gnawed on her neck. They were pressed against the wall, clothes already half off. One of his hands found her shirt and ripped downwards, buttons flying everywhere.

I stared, open-mouthed. A voice screeched obscenities in the background incoherently. Both of their heads snapped upwards and around, looking at me.

Apparently the voice had been mine. Ben leapt away from her abruptly, grabbing his shirt off the floor and shoving random buttons through holes. Abigail's mouth dropped as she stared at me in shock, like she couldn't believe I was there. I was absolutely positive I was staring back at her with the same expression.

Until, of course, she regained her composure. She flipped her bouncy chocolate brown curls out of her eyes and sauntered over to Ben, pushing his impeccable brown hair out of his face possessively. I looked at him beseechingly, begging him with my eyes to pull away from her, to come and hug me, to tell me this was all just a misunderstanding. Instead, the bastard wrapped his arms tight around her and tucked her close against him. I couldn't help but notice their bodies fit together perfectly, comfortably, the way ours never had.

"Get over it, Aster." Ben muttered quietly. I looked over at him in disbelief. He was telling me to get over it? The man who had asked me to move in with him a few days before was asking me to get. Over. It?!

He wasn't looking at me anymore, but had buried the lower half of his face in Abigail's curls. His profile was flushed, and it looked like his eyes were almost closed. To any other person it would look like he was simply protectively cuddling his newfound love. To me, he was furious. His chest trembled in barely contained frustration, his hand clenched around Abigail's forearm tightly, and his face wasn't flushed in guilt; but in anger. These were the signs he was about to lose control. I flinched a little when she turned and reached up to rest her hand lightly on his shoulder. With a long and controlled breath, the tightness in his features loosened.

He hadn't lashed out?! He hadn't grabbed her shoulders, shook her until she felt sick, or knocked her to the ground?

Right. Of course he hadn't. For him, she was probably everything I wasn't, everything I could never be.

It was only when my body shuddered with a silent sob that I snapped out if it and answered him. Well, at least I think I answered him. Before I realized what I was doing, I was already out the door and barrelling down the hall. I was stumbling down the stairs when I realized I had forgotten my clothes - and wallet, and dignity - in Ben's bedroom. Our bedroom. Where I had been lingering so I could 'surprise' him. I rammed my shoulder into the heavy apartment complex door as hard as I could and sprinted out onto the street, ignoring the strange looks I got from people. I couldn't get home because his apartment was my home, and my work was too far away - not to mention I had quit two weeks ago. For him, because he wanted to be the 'provider'. I had nowhere to go. Except for maybe...

I couldn't. He would never take me in. It had been so long, he might not even live there anymore. He might not know me anymore. 'He might still hate me.'

~~~

My feet betrayed me. I found myself running again, down alleys and across side-streets, my bare feet pounding on the uneven pavement. It felt like seconds, but it had to have taken at least an hour, possibly three. Finally, I came to the street I needed. Out front of the building a little, flickering yellow sign read, "O Loughlin's Pub: Good Times, Good Beer".

Not wasting any time, I ducked into the little space beside the two buildings. It was a tiny alley, maybe big enough for two people to fit in side-by-side: if they were anorexic. I squeezed in and faced the tiny little red door - the second one, I remembered after a moment. Then, before I lost my nerve, I knocked on the door. And again. And harder. Suddenly I wasn't knocking on the door, I was hitting it, and I couldn't stop. The door had turned into Ben, then Abigail, then the two of them together, practically having sex right in front of me.

I barely registered someone thumping loudly down stairs before the door was wrenched open and my fist -expecting to meet painfully with the wooden door- narrowly avoided collision with the face that opened it. Panting for breath, I stared. The man there was definitely the one I was looking for, but he looked so different. It probably had something to do with the fact it had been four years, and we weren't fresh off our first year of college anymore.

Green eyes still bleary with sleep, he braced one hand against the doorjamb and leaned slightly out. Messy platinum blonde hair fell over his face, and he tossed the broken bottle in his hand into the alley before rubbing his eyes.

"What? Do you want? The pub closes at 2AM, it's at least four in the morning. Shouldn't a lady like you be sleeping? Because I know that's where I wanna be.." He snapped at me, his voice husky from sleep. He leaned over so his head was on the doorjamb, and used his now free hand to scratch his bare - and impressive - chest. I barely recognised him now, but the look of faint annoyance in his eyes mixed with the structured jaw and the platinum hair - it couldn't be anyone else.

"Declan? I'm so glad I remembered where you live. It's.. it's Aster. Do you think I could stay here, just for a little bit?"