for better or for worse // mitchel cave (completed)

part XLIV

*laralyn's pov*

"hello."

why was he here? i hadn't spoken to him in forever, no doubt around four months now. it was a shock to say the least.

i probed him, my brown eyes scanning the expanse of his body. he didn't look much different. his hair was still crimped as ever, arranged into the usual bind of undistinguishable darkened brown tresses. he had taken to wearing a headband 24/7 now, something i wasn't entirely familiar with.

his face seemed a little bit older, not in the corporeal way but in the mentally mature way. the first night i saw clinton in the club, he was ditzy and was a facade of sweetness, his asshole side being hidden. he was a party type, the one to go crazy after a round of shots and then, in one way or another, be absolutely pleasant the next morning.

clinton was growing and enjoying life but i witnessed how the past four months changed him. and maybe even more than that. eight months had progressed since i first met mitchel, and as much as he probably didn't want to admit it, mitchel and i's bond changed him.

the assault changed him, i could see the transgression in his eyes anytime he dared to look at me. having to give me up changed him. maybe he never genuinely cared for me, but having to give up the pride and supremacy that consumed his ego and let mitchel win changed him. it wasn't a sudden change, but i noticed it.

i witnessed clinton mature, even though i knew he didn't want to grant it. could i trust him? i had no idea. but he was here for a reason, and i wasn't gonna be the one to stop him from that.

"hello," he repeated, peering past me to see my almost unoccupied apartment. my thoughts had dominated me when i opened up the door to see him but now i was snapped back to reality.

"u-um hi clinton," i finally reacted, moving back a moment to let the peculiarly tall man inside. he gave me a pleasing smile as he entered, his eyes flashing around the rather large place.

he probably expected me to not let him in, and truthfully i don't know why i did. i was indubitably only most shaky to be around him at night. the late night parties when i was with mitchel was unceasingly hard for me. i could never let my guard down as much as mitch could, i was always having to make certain that clinton didn't get a slight bit too drunk. i was always having to trail mitchel around for implied defense, as much as he uttered to me it would be okay.

now it was daylight and my fear was absent. he was here and i was here.

"i'm sure you're wondering why i'm here," he spoke after a minute, catching me from my occasion of reminiscing.

i nodded, shambling over to a bar stool and sliding my body onto it. he followed me, drawing the barstool underneath his legs and sitting. he looked much more oafish than i did, his height making the small barstool look like something out of a play set.

he pulled the seat closer to me, and out of habit i flinched. i couldn't help it, but being in his presence aroused my common anxiety. i immediately corrected myself, pretending to be casual as i leaned against the counter by the stool.

clinton sighed and looked down. "i'm not like that laralyn. i'm never going to hurt you again. you don't have to believe me, but it needs to be said," he exhaled.

i nodded, chewing on my lip. i wasn't sure if he was telling the truth but i could see his intention coming here was surely not to harm me. "i'm sorry, i really didn't mean to flinch like that. it's habit," i sighed.

"lara, take a wild guess on the last time i drank."

i peeped up, trying to flicker through my subconscious of the last time i saw him taste a beer or something of the sorts. "i'm not sure, maybe a few days ago?" i inferred, my voice lilting up in mystification.

he chuckled cynically, amusement slipping onto his face. "seven months ago. seven months ago, on the night i assaulted you. that was the last time i ever took a drink of that liquid poison."

i stared at him, expecting him to disclaim it as a joke but something in his voice told me he wasn't lying.

my memory wanted to tell me it was a fabrication, but suddenly it all fell into place. the way clinton always came back when christian was too drunk and instructed us it was time to go time and time again. the way he could drive us home perfectly after a long night, not seeming hardly challenged with his reactions, as a drunk person would be.

i attempted to open my mouth to say something, but i wasn't sure how to behave and he cut me off anyway.

"i mean, if you don't believe me, ask dr. murray. he's my therapist. the therapist for anger management and substance abuse i've been visiting secretly for the past seven months."

and then i looked at clinton cave. really looked at him. i saw him for more than what i used to see him for. when i had the courage to look him in the eye, i always had seen the same dark room. the dark bedroom and smell of whiskey as he groped me and degraded me to a mere nothing more than a body for his pleasure.

but now i saw nothing but sincerity. i saw the way he changed, even more than i had realized earlier. i saw how he had dedicated months and months of his life to making sure he never wounded me again. i saw how he sacrificed the parties and usual life of being famous to make sure i was okay always.

i saw how he had been standing over me, like an older brother and i saw how even though we hadn't talked in four months, my health and well-being consumed him daily. and i saw how he was begging for this to be realized, because he did everything to protect me these past seven months since.

and i turned the page on the book.

i leaned in, enfolding my arms around his toned body, my head coming down onto his shoulder to feel the meager roughness of his scruff and smell the cologne and musky aftershave he used.

he didn't move a muscle at first, shocked that i was bold enough to do this.

but then he turned the page on his own book.

a sigh of alleviation that he had been holding in for months came out, his arms wrapping around me. i felt completed again. not in the romantic way, but in the way that someone out there cared for me, and i had managed to make someone else's life out there a little bit better.

maybe it would look like just a hug to an outsider, but in actuality, this was more than a hug. it was the best form of reprieve possible, it was giving a sense of reliance to clinton that he had rightfully earned, and it was letting clinton know he hadn't struggled for nothing.

"i'm so sorry laralyn," he whispered into my hair, his voice fracturing. i inhaled in a little bit more of his scent and pulled back.

"no, i'm sorry. im sorry for not seeing how you changed. i'm sorry for not reaching out to you. thank you clinton. thank you so fucking much for doing this for me," i sighed, a grin tugging onto my lips.

i leaned back in and we hovered like this for a while, just appreciating the way we mended a once broken-beyond-repair relationship.

after a while he pulled out of my embrace and gave me a smile. "i should probably go. how about you meet me for lunch tomorrow, at two o'clock? we can go to that one mexican restaurant you used to never shut up about."

i giggled and nodded, elated we could have a closeness and happy that maybe something in my life was looking up.

as i watched him leave, all i could think to myself was how i had been wrong. heartbreak was not all i was capable of feeling anymore.

because the feeling of forgiveness and friendship trumped it all.

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now that folks, is what i call character development 👏🏻👏🏻 be honest, how many of you hated clinton's character for a long time while reading👀 but now he out here doing big thingssss. also, thank you guys for 15k reads!! that's so awesome and i never dreamed i would get this many reads 🖤 vote if u liked the chapter, and i would adore some comments!! byeee🕊