How Did It End? (HamBebe)

My Love, It's Been a Long Time Since I Cried and Left You Out of the Blue

(Gwen's POV)

"So... it's out, guys!" you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray the effort it took to force the words out. You plastered on a smile, but it was brittle—like shattered glass hastily pieced back together, sharp edges barely concealed. The cheeriness you tried to muster fell flat, your tone hollow and cracking at the seams. It wasn't humor, not really, just a desperate attempt to cling to something, anything, that resembled normalcy. 

And then came the laugh—a dry, fragile sound that broke the silence like a stone skipping across still water. But it didn't echo the way it should have—it just... fell. Lifeless. It didn't reach your eyes, which darted nervously around the room, pleading for someone to pretend this was fine. Pleading for someone to believe you were fine. But your hands betrayed you, fidgeting against your sides, gripping the hem of your shirt like you needed something solid to hold onto. 

No one spoke. We all just sat there, caught in the agonizing quiet that followed, every second dragging like an eternity. The weight of your words, your forced cheer, pressed down on us, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

You always bore the brunt of everything, didn't you, Sheena? You carried the weight of all our sorrows, masking your own, because that's who you are. The unwavering pillar. The glue that held this fragile circle of ours together.

But now, watching you unravel like this—it's shattering. You are our strength, Bebe. Our unyielding brick wall. And seeing that wall crumble? It feels like the very ground beneath me is giving way.

I thought I could handle this, thought I could stay detached, even when I ignored you in New York, hoping the distance would smother the feelings I've buried for years. But I was wrong. So horribly, heartbreakingly wrong.

This—seeing you in this state—is my undoing. It's a blow I wasn't ready for, and the guilt claws at me relentlessly. I trusted that man. I thought he would cherish you, honor the fierce and beautiful person you are. Instead, he broke you. And I let him. I let him because I wasn't there. Because I was selfish.

I thought ignoring you would heal me, that staying away would protect you from the feelings I could never confess. But my absence only left you vulnerable. My silence let him destroy you.

And then you broke. The sobs tore through you, raw and unrestrained, and the girls rushed in like a tidal wave, wrapping you in their warmth. It was so rare—so devastating—to see you this way. You've had breakups before, but not like this. Not with someone who tried to stain your name, tarnish the career you built from sheer grit and determination. And I let it happen.

"Bebe... I'm sorry," I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling as I struggled to meet your tear-streaked gaze. The girls parted, leaving me standing there, exposed and ashamed. "It's my fault. I failed you. I never meant to hurt you, Bebe. Please, forgive me."

I promised your mother I would protect you. Over and over, I made that promise. And over and over, I broke it because of my own selfishness.

You looked at me then, your eyes red and puffy, and in that moment, I saw everything. The hurt, the betrayal, the fragile hope still clinging to the pieces of your heart.

And then, you stepped forward, closing the gap between us, and I wrapped you in my arms. My world tilted, crashed, and ignited all at once. It was the Big Bang—the rebirth of something infinite, something uncontainable.

"Bebe," you whispered, so soft, so gentle. It was a sound I'd missed more than I realized.

I reached out, my fingers trembling, brushing away the tears on your cheeks.