Friends

Chapter 24

A/N: Chapters 25-32 are on Patreon along with other exclusive scenes if you want to check those out!

Marcqwuan's POV:

I sit on the edge of the couch, trying to give her space, but close enough that she knows I'm here. I can see it—the way her hands twist nervously, how her shoulders are drawn up tight, as though she's bracing for something. She's struggling, caught between whatever past she's still holding onto and what is sitting right in front of her. Me.

"I'm so sorry, and I know I suck. These past two weeks have literally been amazing. I've never been happier. I've never felt more loved, and like I know we're just friends, but it's like it doesn't even feel real. The way you treat me—it's like I'm almost just waiting for the ball to drop, for something bad to happen. But it never does, which makes me feel even shittier," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the room.

"Jasmine," I say gently, my voice low and steady.

She takes a slow, shaky breath, and then, almost in a whisper, "And it's like Kendrick made me feel horrible for years. So there's no reason why I should even be missing him, which makes me even more sad and confused," her voice cracks, trembling like it might shatter into a million pieces.

My heart gives a small, painful jolt at the words. But I don't pull away. I don't flinch. I stay here, calm and steady, because I know she needs me to be.

"Jasmine," I repeat, my voice quiet but firm.

She doesn't look at me, her gaze falling to her lap. "So, the fact that I'm here with you every day and you're treating me like a princess, and I'm missing Kendrick just goes to show you how horrible a person I am. How I don't deserve any of this."

She's spiraling again, the words tumbling out, desperate to make sense of them, but not hearing me.

I stay silent, letting her talk. This is her truth. This is what she's been carrying, and the best thing I can do is let her get it out.

When the room is finally quiet, I reach out, my fingers brushing lightly against her chin. It's gentle, but enough to make her look at me. Her eyes are filled with tears, and for a moment, she doesn't pull away. I take that as a sign that I'm doing something right.

"Jasmine," I say, soft but firm, "you're not a horrible person."

She shakes her head. "No, I am. I am because—"

I cover her mouth with my hand, not to silence her, but to stop her from spiraling further. "Jasmine, stop. Just for a few minutes, okay? You're not a terrible person. It's normal to miss Kendrick."

"No, it's not," she mumbles, her voice muffled against my palm.

"Jasmine," I say, my tone still gentle but insistent, "Whether the history has been amazing or horrible, it's still history. You two have spent years together. And I know Kendrick has tainted the idea of lust for you—has made it something dirty, something wrong—but lust... it's just as powerful, if not more, than love. They go hand in hand. Lust and love—like Yin and Yang."

I see her flinch at the mention of lust, her body shrinking in on itself. But I keep going, knowing she needs to hear this.

"Sex... it's the closest you can get with someone physically. It's intimate. It's trusting. Even when Kendrick degraded you, when he was rough with you, calling you names, doing things you never should have tolerated—you were still trusting him. Trusting him with your body. And trust, even in the worst situations, is powerful."

Her breathing is shallow, like she's holding herself together by a thread, but she doesn't look away.

"I want you to understand something, Jasmine," I continue, my voice softer now, more thoughtful. "Choking... it's dangerous. If you choke someone long enough, hard enough, they die. Take everything else out of it—sex, names, everything. The act itself is life-threatening. And you let him do that to you. You trusted him enough to let him have that power. Do you understand?"

I watch her blink rapidly, fighting the tears, but they spill over anyway. A tear slides down her cheek. It's raw, painful to see, but I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

I cup her cheek in my hand, brushing my thumb across her soft skin, wiping away the tear. I want her to feel safe in this moment, to know she doesn't have to carry this weight alone anymore.

"What you need to understand is that growth isn't linear, Jasmine," I say gently, "It's messy. Some days, you'll feel great. You won't think about him at all, or barely. And other days, you'll miss him. You might want to reach out, text him, even unblock him. That's okay. It's a process. It's normal. But we want to keep it to a minimum. It's unrealistic to expect you to just forget him after two weeks. There's a lot of history, a lot of emotional investment. It's not going to be easy."

She's quiet for a long moment, but I can see the struggle inside her. I can see the guilt and the confusion twisting inside her. She finally lifts her gaze, but it only meets mine for a second before she looks down again, like she's too afraid to face me fully.

"I just don't want to hurt you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

I shake my head, my hand still gently cupping her cheek. "You can't hurt me, Jasmine. Honestly? I'm surprised you haven't unblocked him and brought him over while I was at work or something." I say with a smirk, trying to contain my laughter.

Her breath catches, and I see her tense up. She doesn't say anything right away, but the way her eyes flicker tells me everything I need to know.

"Hello?" I say, trying to make her say it.

She hesitates, and then—quietly—she whispers, "Yeah... about that."

The weight of those words hits me. My chest tightens, but I refuse to react. I can't. Not right now.

"Alright," I say, trying to steady myself. "I think we need some kind of a system."

"System?" she asks, her voice soft, unsure.

"Let me be your accountability buddy," I suggest, trying to make light of it, but my tone is serious. "You know, like in AA meetings, they have partners who hold each other accountable. I can be that for you. I'm not doing this because I have to, Jasmine. I'm doing this because I want to help you. I want to be your partner in this, not just in the easy stuff, but in the hard stuff too."

She looks at me, unsure, but her eyes are softer now. "But... what if I mess up?"

I smile, just slightly. "Then we try again. We don't give up. Let me in, Jasmine. I'm here for you."

She pauses, searching my face, still uncertain. But I can see the hesitation beginning to melt away, the walls she's been hiding behind crumbling just a little bit.

"I was just ashamed," she admits finally, barely above a whisper.

"There's no need to be ashamed," I say firmly, brushing her hair back from her face. "I don't think you understand how common it is to reach out to someone you shouldn't. I've done the same thing."

Her eyes widen, just a little, and she meets my gaze. "Have you really?"

I nod, a small chuckle escaping me. "Yes. Really. Let's talk about it on our first date."