Seeing the Thing

Chapter 18

warnings:  angst but also some fluff

***

You pulled away from Tom, smiling, "it's time for me to get back to the booth. And you," your finger taps his chest, "need to go backstage."

"Is it really that time?" Tom asks, his fingers gliding along the bottom of your black t-shirt.

"Mhm, final show, second act," you rest your forehead against his, hating the implication you felt those words held even if they didn't, even if it was really all in your head.

"Alright, go kick some ass calling your cues, I'll be right backstage."

"I'll see you on lights up for the final scene," you smile, kissing him again.

"And you said I couldn't kiss with my stage makeup."

"You're just too kissable not to, now scram, I've got cues to call," you push Tom back slightly before leaving him backstage to make your way back up to the booth.

You've got a huge smile on your face and you couldn't help but want to always feel this way before each show, or even every single day. That feeling disappears when you see Ben. You attempt to push down the nerves building inside of you, and the tears that well in your eyes, the way your hands start to shake at your sides.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, panic rising in your voice as you watch Ben step forward. Amy gives you a look like she'll gladly kick Ben out if you say the word.

"I'm just trying to convince you that what you're doing is going to get you hurt."

"What do you mean, Ben?"

"You know Tom will just leave you, he's going back to London soon! What do you seriously think will happen? But I'm here, I'll be here, let's have one more summer together, I deserve a second chance."

"How could you possibly deserve a second chance? We've hardly talked since this summer! Since you threw a fit in front of my parents? You were my first real boyfriend, you know that? The first guy I've ever brought home to them, and that's how you fucking acted in front of them, What, you think that screaming at Tom during auditions was some big hero move? We've hardly said hello to each other, I can't even look at you in rehearsal. You know that? That every day we rehearse your scene I just close my eyes and pretend that I'm somewhere else?"

"But Tom is-, he's a dick! He was an asshole to you, everyone saw it, the other cast members. He treated you horribly, he pried and pried and pried. Plus, he's a terrible actor, I don't know how you managed to turn his scene around like you did. What has he ever given to you? What the fuck could he possibly have that I don't?"

"Why Ben, why should it matter what Tom was like back then? He's different now, he's good to me."

"And I wasn't?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what is it?"

"He makes me feel, well, differently than how I felt with you."

"You love him."

You're silent. Ben wasn't asking a question. It was the answer to a question he's been wondering since he saw you and Tom together last week. You were unashamed to be there, in Tom's arms, in public. You weren't anxious, like all the times you and Ben were together last summer. You looked so comfortable standing with Tom in the middle of the pedestrian walkway, people all around you. You weren't ashamed to be his. And that hurt Ben because as long as you were with him, you were anxious to hold his hand in public, kiss him, be with him. When he saw you and Tom together, a small part of him yearned to figure out what about Tom was so different, so much better than him.