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* p r e s e n t *
"Harlow? Are you awake?"
Jim's voice was quiet in the dark hallway of the bus and Harlow fought an intense feeling of deja vu as she looked around in confusion, sure for a moment that she'd only been hearing things.
"Harlow?"
He whispered her name louder this time, peeking around the edge of the curtain covering her bunk.
She looked at him in surprise, wondering how the hell he'd even managed to sneak onto the bus she'd taken up residence on without her noticing him. They were two weeks into the tour and the two of them hadn't spoken once. She'd been avoiding him as absolutely best she could and had actually only managed to run into him a few times somehow.
She still felt wrong, hollow almost. She sure as hell didn't feel like herself, and everyone was trying to give her space because of it. Various members of the band checked in on her frequently, making sure she was doing alright, but the only one she'd had any real conversations with since the tour had started was actually Corey's son Griffin. He was the only one that wasn't treating her like she was made of glass, and it was nice.
When she wasn't hanging out with Griffin or working, she'd been spending almost all of her time holed up in her bunk reading or whatever else she could think of to do so that she was sure she wouldn't run into Jim.
Tears rose to her eyes as she looked at him in the dim light of the bus. The image was exactly the same as but also completely different than the first time he'd ever whispered her name in the middle of the night while everyone else snored around them and she sniffled, not wanting him to see her cry.
"Can I come in?" he asked, even further surprising her. She nodded silently, watching as he climbed into the bunk and arranged his long limbs in a way that looked like it was probably uncomfortable.
They hadn't shared a bunk in quite some time; after Jim had nearly fallen out of her top bunk multiple times over the years, they'd finally given up. Sometimes they lucked out with a bus with extra large bunks that they actually both fit in, or even sometimes ones with an actual small bedroom situation in the back that they took turns using with other couples, but usually they just took a top and a bottom so that they could be as close as possible while still actually being safe.
"Hi," he whispered, his voice taking on that shy tone that she'd become so accustomed to in the early days of their relationship. He hadn't sounded so shy when talking to her in years and it made butterflies flutter around her stomach despite how much she wished they wouldn't.
"Hi, Peachy," she whispered back, closing her eyes as he reached up with his thumb to brush away a stray tear.
"How are you?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes.
"Fucking bad," she mumbled, shrugging. Jim nodded.
"Sorry. I... I knew that. Griffin's actually the one that told me I needed to talk to you. He told me he hated me for making you so upset and I needed to fix it," Jim admitted, and Harlow nodded. She wasn't surprised. Griffin was 100% Corey's kid in that when he saw a problem, he tried to fix it whether it was his business or not and whether he had the means or not.
"Who is she?" she asked, the words almost spilling out of her mouth before she'd even decided they were going to. She had a million things to say to him, a million questions to ask him, but that was definitely the biggest one. He quirked an eyebrow like he wasn't sure what she was talking about and it made her want to punch him. "The woman that was at the house... our house... the next day."
Jim closed his eyes and sighed heavily, shaking his head.
"That was my fucking cousin Julia, Harlow. You've only met her a hundred times over the years," he told her, and immediately her mind flashed through recognition that she hadn't been able to connect before in her rage.
"Fucking Christ," she mumbled, feeling immensely stupid. "I thought..." she trailed off and Jim sighed again.
"You honestly thought I was fucking someone else the next day? You think that little of me?" he questioned, and she shook her head.
"No. I... yeah? I don't know. I don't know anything right now, Jim," she told him. "Honestly, I'd all but convinced myself that you'd been cheating all along and that's why you'd broken up with me."
Jim shook his head.
"I wasn't cheating on you. I'd never cheat on you, and I'd never move on from you the next goddamn day."
"Then what, huh? What the fuck happened? I know what you said, but I don't buy it. There's too much... we've been through too much to just give it up like that," she insisted, desperately wanting to revert to their oldest method of ending an argument: cutting him off with a kiss. She knew she couldn't do that, though, that this wasn't an argument she could win that way.
Jim closed his eyes and sighed heavily, flipping from where he'd propped himself up on an elbow to flat on his back. He stared at the ceiling of the bunk and again deja vu struck Harlow like a brick as she glanced at the low waistband of his sweatpants and the hiked up bottom hem of his t-shirt. She wanted to reach for him, to run her hands over his soft stomach and relish in the change in his breathing that was sure to instigate, but again she knew she couldn't do that.
"It's just too much, Harlow. The fighting, the way I know you still don't totally want to settle down with me, the way you're always picking at me no matter what I do, the way I never know what headspace you're in and never know what mood you're going to be in that day. I just... we're too different. I'm sorry I tried so long, maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should've just seen our differences way back in the day and not let anything happen. Maybe that would've saved us both a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak, and I'm sorry. I do love you, though. Fucking Christ, I love you. Don't think for a second that I don't. It's just... it's not right, Harlow. It's never been quite right and I don't think we should try anymore. Maybe... maybe we're just wasting both of our time," he explained to her, his voice catching in his throat multiple times as he went.
She was full-on crying by the time he finished, sobs that shook her body violently. She was trying her best to keep quiet, but knew soon she'd probably start waking at least the lighter sleepers on the bus.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel all of that. I didn't know. I didn't know I was so fucking bad to you," she told him, feeling herself transitioning into a full-on panic attack. Jim was immediately shaking his head.
"You weren't bad to me, Harlow. I know you tried. I know you did, it just... it didn't work, and it's not anyone's fault specifically," he told her, reaching for her. His long arms wrapped around her and held her close, burying her in the warm mixture of cigarette smoke, shampoo, and musky cologne that he always smelled of. The scent felt like home and even though the pit in her stomach didn't get any shallower, she was able to control her breathing while within his embrace.
"I love you," she sobbed into his chest, her throat raw and painful as the words rose out of it.
"I know," he whispered back, and she could tell he was crying too. "I know you do."
