Fanfics

Say something - by dailyhartbig

I want Hannah here and I want her to love me like I thought she did, is immediately Grace's first thought, and she feels like she's going to be sick because that's not something she can have or allow herself to want either. Acknowledge that that's not something Hannah can be for her anymore, even though Grace so badly aches for her touch and her whispered words and her body next to hers.
***
If you were ever to put Grace in this situation ten years ago, well, even a couple of years ago she would've been running out of the door faster than you can say long term commitment; because really, weddings were never her thing. And she never expected to be caring so much about her own, so this whole thing was a big deal to her.
Mostly because what came at the end of the day, where she got to call Hannah her wife, and introduce her to people as her wife, and say she loved her wife. They'd never have to have the confusion again of what to call each other; partner, girlfriend, fiancé? It'd be simple and warm and encompassing and Grace found, surprisingly, that she wanted it more than anything.
And it wasn't that she wanted to settle, in fact she wanted to do the opposite. She wanted explore everything with Hannah, their giddiness propelling them towards the unseen. But somewhere in the distance for the first time, she saw a quiet future, another dog maybe. An actual house that they owned together. Kids if Hannah talked her into it enough. A family they'd raise together. A small and unassuming one at that, but one nonetheless. She wanted it so incredibly badly. And she wanted it all with Hannah, the in between didn't matter as long as Hannah was there to laugh at her idiotic jokes and keep her sane and just love her. Just love her.
***
It was two months and a handful of days until the wedding and Grace was feeling stupid about getting so excited due to the fact that she just found the perfect name pieces for the tables. But not that stupid, because she wanted Hannah to get home already so she could show her.
She hadn't been home very much in the past three or so weeks, she'd just finished the final draft on her second book a month prior and Grace knew it was a stressful time for her. The drafting process was in full blast and Swike would be on her ass all day about getting it done, and so would the publishers. It meant lots if meetings and Hannah falling into bed as soon as she came home, mostly it meant there wasn't a lot of time for them to spend together. And that always sucked, but Grace understood.
She got busy a lot with videos and the the successful scriptwriting job she keeps up through it all; but Grace just thanks the fucking lord that the wedding falls in the TV off-season, it just gives her a little more time to spend on it.
Hannah walks in the door looking incredibly tired and forlorn, her eyes downcast as she walks straight into the kitchen without saying hello to Grace who's sitting on the couch, laptop in front of her. She heads straight for the fridge, opens it for a few moments and then shuts it again, turning back towards the couch and startles slightly as she sees Grace.
"Shit, Grace, sorry didn't see you," Hannah mumbles as she pinches at the bridge of her nose.
Grace laughs a little and shuts her laptop, "Sorry, come over here. Feel like I haven't seen you in a hundred years."
Grace misses the tiny flinch as she utters the words as she places her laptop on the coffee table, then leaning back in the couch, her arms wide open and inviting for Hannah to fall into. Like they do every time one of the comes home from a hard day at work. It's familiar, and they both thrive on it. But this time. This time, Hannah seems tentative and uncomfortable as she comes and perches herself on the edge of the couch next to her. Not letting herself touch Grace, not even their knees.
Grace leans forward a little, resting her head in Hannah's shoulder, feeling it tense slightly underneath her cheek she runs a comforting hand across the small expanse of Hannah's back, "You alright? Did something happen with the book?"
Hannah's turns to face Grace, a small smile on her face, but it looks tired and like she's forcing it and it makes Grace nervous. Hannah reaches and slides a hand across Grace cheek, moving forward to catch their lips together. It wasn't tender so to speak, it was rough and Hannah's hand was grabbing firmly at the nape of Grace's neck as she turned further into her. The kiss is desperate and insatiably hungry, and honestly they haven't had proper sex in weeks just because they've been too tired or too busy or just something and they're both craving it.
Running a hand up on the inside of Hannah's shirt Grace whispers into her mouth, "You distracted me, I had something to show you."
"Oh yeah? What is it?" Hannah says, kissing Grace's jawbone in between breathless words.
Eliciting small gasps Grace says, "Just some name cards for the wedding, it's not important right now...wait what're you doing? I was enjoying that," Grace says, a little whiny, but she doesn't care because Hannah's detached herself from Grace and is running a hand across her forehead.
"Sorry, I'm just, I don't know, being weird, sorry," Hannah mumbles, not making an effort to look Grace in the eyes.
Grace narrows her eyes, because Hannah is being really fucking weird and she wants to know why, "Uh, ok well, how about you not be weird and either have sex with me or look at these name cards?"
"Just...don't, please, shit," Hannah says, visibly anxiety ridden, her hand trembling slightly as she runs it repeatedly across her forehead.
And Grace is just staring at Hannah because now she nervous and her chest has started shaking along with Hannah's hand, she says in a small voice, "Don't what?"
Hannah is shaking her head now a little, "I don't know, m'sorry."
"You're really fucking scaring me right now, Han. What's going on?" Grace says, her long fingers wrapping themselves a round Hannah's tiny wrist.
"Grace, uh, we need to talk," Hannah says, her voice quivering like she's about to pass out or be sick, and she doesn't look far off it either.
But Grace immediately tenses, because she's heard those words before, they may not be the same ones but that tone of finality and resolution, that she's heard before. And she can't be sitting here with fucking name cards saved on her desktop, and that tone be used on her. That's not happening.
"You're not fucking breaking up with me, not now. Not here," Grace says, her voice louder, but god is it shaking.
Hannah looks quietly shocked but her words keep catching in her throat, "No, Gracie, god no...I wouldn't do that, I'd never."
It's a few long moments where it was a deathly kind of silent, where Grace felt like she was going to throw up and Hannah felt like all she wanted to do was run. For the first time in years, where she wanted to be most wasn't where Grace was.
Hannah takes a small shaky breath before exhaling the words, "I fucked up."
Grace can't stop staring straight ahead, there's a rumbling static in her ears and she can't bring herself to say anything until the words come tumbling subconsciously out of her mouth, they're desperate, "Well, that's ok, everyone fucks up, right? It's something we can fix, it's fine."
And Grace is feeling more and more like she's stopped breathing because Hannah is shaking her head all through her words, "Gracie, I really fucked up, I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, I'm sure it's not that ba-"
"I slept with someone else," Hannah whispers.
The static that they both hear immediately in their ears is deafening.
"You what?" Grace whispers, Hannah knows not to say it again.
Grace thinks it must be scientifically impossible, but she feels the air completely still and go ice cold at that moment, like she's been dunked over and over again into an ocean of freezing water until she can't breathe, and oh god, she can't breathe. Standing up suddenly Grace clutches at the back of her head, fingers clasping roughly together, opening up her chest to try and get her lungs working properly.
Hannah's trying to say words but they die off as Grace's stunted breaths come in louder, eventually Grace says something that she really already knows the answer to, "When are we talking here? Like when we first got together, or after that, or?" And she can't bring herself to finish the sentence because they both know what that means.
Hannah doesn't say a word but her silence is enough and a tear sliding down her cheek, quickly wiping it away.
Grace feel lightheaded as she utters out a, "Oh god," realizing that it was recent. It was recent. Suddenly she can't stop thinking, her brain is absolutely buzzing with questions and wonderings and anger.
"Please, Gracie, I'm so sorry, you don't understand I'm so, so unbelievably sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just, I was freaking out about the wedding and I went for a drink after a really bad book meeting with some friends and I just kept drinking, and I swear it meant nothing, I was just scared, oh god, I fucked up, I'm so sorry," Hannah's cheeks are soaked with tears and her hands are trembling so badly that's he's scared they'll never stop.
But Grace is deathly silent, her breath has evened out, but it's heavy and laboured, like she's just run mile. Her eyes are flashing bright white with an anger that Hannah has never seen before. Ever. Then in the silence she spits out, "Are you fucking kidding me? We were engaged?"
"Grace..." Hannah breathes out in shock, because she's trying to be so careful and treading so lightly because she doesn't want to do anymore damage.
"We were engaged," Grace says and she feels like she needs to hit something, "You asked me to marry you and then you slept with someone else. Are you fucking kidding me?"
Hannah's heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and she's trying to stop herself from crying but she can't and the words just keep spilling out, "Oh god, I'm so sorry. It meant nothing, absolutely nothing, I didn't even...I don't love anyone else but you."
"Do I know her?" Grace whispers, trying to keep her voice calm and level, but it's shaking beneath the surface with unbridled rage.
"No, no! Of course not, I don't even know her, I don't even know her name. It meant nothing," Hannah pleads, her throat is aching through the tears.
Grace's chest heaves slightly before she says with a cold malice that neither of then have heard, voice still quiet, but the words utterly rip through Hannah, "So you threw away everything we had, for a quick fuck and someone else's pussy to eat out? Fuck you, Hannah, you should've at least had the decency to learn her name."
Hannah's unable to do much more than sit with her mouth open and stare for a few moments as Grace wipes a tear from her cheek, "Grace, please, I lo-"
"Don't you fucking dare. You do not get to say that anymore, you don't get to love me" Grace spits at Hannah, who's still sitting on the edge of the couch as Grace paces the room feeling for the first time like she's going to be sick, she has to steady herself on the edge of her desk before lowering herself down into her office chair and leaning forward to quell the wave of nausea.
Hannah's voice comes into her ears as distant and painful, "I'm so sorry, you have to understand, I can't sleep and I can't eat and oh god, I just feel so awful all the ti-"
Grace stands up suddenly and raises her voice for the first time throughout the whole conversation as she screams at Hannah, "I don't give a shit how you feel."
Hannah starts to open her mouth again and all Grace can see is flaming red, she's never been so furious and hurt in her life, and she feels like she's falling apart from the inside. She watches Hannah start to form another tearful apology, and she can't fucking take it. She really can't, "Get out."
"No, please, Grace -" Hannah starts to plead, eyes wide and face drawn pale.
"I said get the fuck out of my house," the words tear through the deadly silent room, as she speaks evenly, "I don't care where you go, but I can't fucking look at you. You need to get out."
Grace sees Hannah out of the edge of her gaze get up slowly from the couch and she imagines for a moment this never happened and Hannah would walk over to her and wrap her up in her arms and wipe away the tears on Grace's cheek and it'd all be better. But right now, she wants nothing more than for Hannah to leave. Just to go.
The sound of the door slamming quietly shut breaks some sort of barrier inside of Grace because the tears come and they won't fucking stop, they spill over and down her cheeks, splashing onto her collarbone. Grace holds a hand flat over her mouth and tries to wrap the other arm around herself in some sort of comfort, she feel sick and dizzy all at once. Eventually her legs give out and she sits with her back against the wall of her living room, staring at the spot on the couch that Hannah just left unoccupied. She doesn't move for a very long time.
***
For four days Grace uses saved up vlogs or collabs, because the last thing she wants to do is get out of bed. To move even. She feels like everything has been pulled out from underneath her and she's unsteady and she can't breathe right anymore.
On the morning on her fourth day Grace is out of bed for more than twenty minutes for the first time since Hannah walked out of the door, Mamrie sitting opposite her, both at Grace's kitchen table. She'd come over an hour prior, and in near silence gotten Grace out of bed, showered, clothed and half a cup of coffee and a few crackers in her. Grace either thinks she wants to hug her or kill her. She's not sure which, because really all she wants to do is sleep forever, so she doesn't have to feel this expectant weight of sadness inside her stomach anymore.
They've been sitting for ten minutes and no words have been spoken, and Grace thanks the universe that Mamrie knows her so well as to let her speak first, at her own pace.
"I feel like I want to fucking die," Grace says after swallowing a small mouthful of coffee, and it stings the silence in the room.
Mamrie takes a sip if coffee as well and nods her head slowly, "Yeah, I know."
Grace scoffs a little, because she can't possibly know what she's feeling like right now, like someone's carving through her insides with barbed wire and stabbing dully at her heart, because it aches and Mamrie can't know what that feels like, "This seriously can't be happening," Grace finally whispers.
"You tell me what you need and I'll do it, ok? Anything you want," Mamrie says quietly, reaching out and patting Grace's clammy hand that's sitting face down on the table surface.
I want Hannah here and I want her to love me like I thought she did, is immediately Grace's first thought, and she feels like she's going to be sick because that's not something she can have or allow herself to want either. Acknowledge that that's not something Hannah can be for her anymore, even though Grace so badly aches for her touch and her whispered words and her body next to hers.
"I don't even know anymore, I just feel like I'm dying. Like physically dying, everything hurts," Grace says, her words starting to hitch a little at the end, because this is hard and she wants to be alone and surrounded by people at the same time. And she thinks that's the worst, not being able to figure out what she needs, there're so many conflicting emotions she feels like she's running round in circles.
Mamrie doesn't say anything in return, like she's not sure what the right thing to say is, so Grace keeps talking, "You know what I wanted to do as soon as she told me?"
Shaking her head, Mamrie doesn't dare say anything in return.
"I wanted to burn every single fucking stupid journal and book she'd ever written in, and our bed, I wanted so badly to set fire to our bed and everything in this fucking house she touched," Grace says, running a shaky hand through her hair, "That's such a screwed up thing to think, really."
"Grace," Mamrie starts, but stops as Grace holds up a hand immediately.
"Just don't, alright? I don't need placating or anything, I just, I don't even, I don't know," Grace stutters, her breath beginning to catch in her throat. Pausing for a moment she says quietly, "I'm just so fucking angry at her."
And then she starts crying, and it's not small, her chest starts to heave dangerously and tears are spilling down her face, and Mamrie is there in a second kneeling down in front of her, just holding her, tighter than she's been held in a long time. Rubbing small circles on the small of her back, her shirt catching the wetness if Grace's tears.
And Mamrie swears she feels her heart actually falling apart when Grace whispers into the tiny space between them,"I just love her, I love her so much, I love her so much. Why doesn't she love me, Mamrie? What did I do wrong"
Grace can't believe she let herself say it, let alone think it, but the fact that she's so incredibly in love with Hannah is the only thought that sticks in her kind, all the others sliding away as though in water, this one so weighted it doesn't move. She feels like she's going to die because she's shaking so badly and her hands aren't strong enough to grip onto the back of Mamrie's sweatshirt, and Hannah's not here.
"It'll be ok. You'll be fine, and I'll be here whenever you need me," Mamrie says, and she feels like crying too. She can't say anything on behalf of Hannah, because she hasn't spoken to her either since Hannah called her to tell her what happened after grace kicked her out. She's far too loyal in her relationship with Grace to do that.
"I don't know what to do, like, I actually don't know how to do anything anymore. I don't know how to do things, and it sounds so pathetic, but I don't know how to do things without her," Grace says through tears still, her breath gulping. She stops for a moment before saying quietly, "We were going to get married, Mamrie, now I don't know what the fuck is going on."
Mamrie doesn't know what to say, because she knows nothing's going to make this better right now, so the best she can do is hold a trembling Grace in her arms and try to convince herself of the impossible, that one day everything might be alright.
***
She thinks the absolute worst thing about it all is that everyone knew already, they knew about her and Hannah and their relationship and the fact the wedding was in two months. That's the worst. Because of course people start to ask questions.
Where's Hannah? Haven't seen her in any videos. How come Hannah hasn't uploaded anything in a while? Why hasn't Grace been on Instagram or Twitter or anything? Just the uploads?
It's hard as well because it's not like Grace can say anything about it to the audience, she doesn't even know what's going on. For the last two weeks all she's been doing is existing, that's about it. It's hard to know what to do when you physically have to solely focus on not letting yourself die that day. Eat, drink, shower, make video, sleep, repeat.
It's arduous and Grace doesn't feel the ease that breathing used to come with, every breath is hard and thought out. And mostly she's just angry, she's so furious and confused about what happened. And every time she thinks about Hannah with another woman she feels a dangerous cocktail of hatred and nausea.
She feels pathetic, because she's listened to that Kelly Clarkson, where she talks about being "stronger" after a break up, and honestly she's never felt weaker. And the fact that she can't see an end, no metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel, she can't see her ever feeling as happy as she did before. Because god was she happy, Hannah made her happy. And that made up for all the times in her life when she wasn't, because somehow Hannah made it all better. And now she was the cause. How fucked up is that? The one time she took a chance, and it came back and bit her in the ass?
Mamrie comes over and they're sat in comfortable silence when Grace asks, "Have you talked to her?"
Taking her drink to her lips, Mamrie's eyes dart towards Grace, they're wary, "I have, yeah."
Grace plays with her blunt fingernail, determinedly not looking at Mamrie, "So?"
"I d'know," Mamrie starts, "she's bad, like super not dealing well."
"Good," Grace immediately says. She thinks about taking it back, maybe that was a little too harsh, but she finds she means it, and she hasn't the energy to be polite.
Mamrie doesn't startle, or even comment on the remark, merely says, "You know I'm completely with you on this. But I think she's called you, like, a lot? I'm pretty sure she's ready to talk whenever you are."
Grace takes a small drink, her mind whirring, trying to process what Mamrie just said, "I wouldn't know, I don't really check my phone much." That's a lie, she just put it on silent, she still sees the missed calls everyday and the notifications for messages, she just doesn't respond, she doesn't even look at them. She can't. "I don't want to talk to her."
Mamrie shrugs, "You don't have to. You don't have to explain yourself to me either, you know that."
Grace just nods, because she does know that and considering she can't even explain her feelings to herself yet, she's glad Mamrie's not demanding it.
***
According to Dr Phil, once a month has passed since someone's cheated on you, it's time to start thinking about 'getting real'. And what an iconic phrase that is, 'getting real'.
It means it's time to start thinking about moving on, deciding where you want to go next, figure out your next life changing move so you can start your new life without that person in it. Basically, it's everything that Grace seems unable to do, and doesn't seem likely she'll ever be able to do. But she tries to convince herself she's 'getting real'.
It becomes a sort of trademark phrase of Grace's, though she doesn't live up to it much at all. Others seem to do it for her a lot. Mamrie comes over and takes a lot of Hannah's stuff and then makes her dinner once a week or so, and her Mom calls her every couple of days, and people have started asking her to hang out again. She doesn't go, because these days it's hard to make it out of her sweatpants, but at least she's considering it, sometimes she even replies to the messages with a polite decline.
Though Grace is certain that 'getting real' doesn't include sitting on the floor of your bedroom at 2:46 am, staring into an open closest which has one lonely vest left on Hannah's side, a bottle of gin sitting to her left, and scrolling through her contacts to find Hannah's name.
Because fuck it all, really. She'd realised earlier that day that it'd been a month since she'd seen Hannah, talked to Hannah, heard her voice. And she misses it like she misses breathing without it hurting. All she's been able to think about is how much she wanted Hannah with her every night, all slow and languid movements in bed, warming her from the inside out, wants her sitting with her on the couch as they laugh at some stupid tv show, wants to feel the way her deft fingers leave trail marks of goosebumps along her skin every time she touches her. She wants it so badly she aches for it.
And the worst thing is, is that she hasn't had an ounce if closure. She has no idea where they stand, were they even technically broken up? Because Grace hasn't taken off her engagement ring and she can't seem to be able to. And she still has pictures saved of the three options she was considering for a wedding dress, and there's still reservations that haven't been cancelled. It's all so up in the air, and Grace doesn't know how to ground it all.
So she calls Hannah, the ringing is loud and blaring in her ear and it seems to go on for hours in her slightly alcohol addled mind. In the end, Hannah doesn't pick up, and Grace can't tell if she's relieved or not. But the automated message comes on and it's Hannah's fucking cheery-ass voice asking her to leave her name and number and 'I'll get back to you as soon as possible!' and Grace feels her entire body seize up because it's the first time she's heard her voice in so long and she also feels a little like she's going to pass out.
The voicemail tone blares and Grace is silent for a few long moments, and then she starts talking, and it seems she's opened the fucking floodgates of hell.
"You left one fucking vest here," her voice is hoarse and ragged, "it's that navy one with the white buttons. And I can't fucking think or function with it just fucking sitting there in my closest because I open it everyday and it's like you're sitting there, watching me like, fester, and I can't fucking take it. It's so unfair, you know?"
Grace swallows and breathes deeply for a few seconds, "We were getting married," it's sudden and Grace didn't even mean to say it, but it's out there now and she feels her throat start to ache with unshed tears.
"I was picking a dress and a venue and stupid, fucking name cards. And you fucked someone else?" Grace spits out the last sentence, and it comes out as a question, because she still doesn't want to believe it, it just sounds too ludicrous to even be real, "You asked me to marry you, and you fucked someone else. I don't get it, I really fucking don't Hannah, and I don't think you're ever going to be able to give me a valid enough explanation for it, and I am so angry about it.
"And do you know what shits me the most? Is you knew, you knew that this kind of commitment was a really big fucking deal for me, and you still went and you fucked me over. I'm just, I just," and she begins to stutter because all she can see is blinding white, "I just hope you know that I have never, ever felt this hurt in my life, and I hope you know that I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you right now. Because you are such a selfish bitch, Hannah, a selfish fucking bitch and I hope you listen to this message over and over, and I hope you cry and I -"
The violent, wracking sob that escapes her mouth surprises even her, and soon she can't stop it, her head hurts and her eyes hurt and her chest hurts and she wants Hannah. She wants Hannah to just hold her and kiss her and tell her that everything's going to be fine, and that she loves her.
"I miss you so much" Grace is whispering now, her breath trembling and wet with tears, "I miss you so fucking much, Hannah. I don't know what to do anymore, like, you've been there for that past five years and now there's no one and I can't sleep properly. I was so happy, Han, why'd you ruin that for me? I...I didn't ever think I could be this happy, and you made me feel like I could be that happy forever, and then...and then."
Her breath is hitching again, over and over is catches in her throat, her voice trembling she finally says, "The worst part is? That I still love you. And do you know how fucking weak I feel saying that? Because you obviously didn't love me enough to tell me you were unhappy or just, you know, not to go fuck some girl in a bar. And I just, I just love you. Still. And that's what scaring me the most, because I used to think that was enough, and I don't think it is anymore for you. But I love you."
Grace just sighs now, because she's gone far enough, and small sobs are still tearing up her throat.
"I'm gunna go now, call me later. Actually, maybe don't call me, that's probably for the best, I don't...I don't even know. I'm so tired."
And she hangs up. And it's done, she feels like throwing up. But she doesn't, she drags herself into bed and places her phone on the bedside table. Through the beginnings of sleep ten minutes later, she hears it buzzing on the table but she keeps her eyes shut resolutely. She can't do this anymore.
***
When she wakes up the next morning there's little in her head except the remnants of stale alcohol and the lingering taste of words of love in her mouth, and she's never felt more sick in her life.
On instinct she picks up her phone and glances at it, thirteen missed calls and twelve text messages from Hannah. I mean, really, she should've expected it.
It's only 8:30 in the morning, but she knows that Hannah would be awake, probably stressing balls about the fact that Grace left a crying hot mess of a voicemail message on her phone. So in a state of sleep addled want, she reasons that it'd be a good idea to text her back.
The last message from Hannah is just a Please Grace. I'm so sorry. From only less than an hour beforehand.
She quickly, and without foresight types a reply, You need to stop.
Almost immediately her phone starts vibrating again as a call from Hannah comes through. She lets it ring out, eyes boring into the small slab of metal and plastic.
Within ten seconds of the call going to voicemail there's another text from Hannah.
Please pick up. Just please pick up.
I can't
Why?
Grace sits up slightly in bed and rests her head against the wall behind her, letting her eyes adjust properly to the sunlight streaming through her window, her head pounding with a headache right beneath her eyes. She realises that she's giving into this. This whole thing with Hannah trying to talk to her again. She finds she doesn't care enough to stop replying, maybe it's that she wants it too. Well, it was her who called the night before.
This can't be fixed by a phone call.
Tell me what I need to do. I'll do it, anything.
Grace feels like crying or falling apart, she doesn't know.
I don't know, I really don't. It's just not enough for me right now.
There's a small lull as Hannah takes more than her usual three seconds to reply, but when the next message comes through, it's short and stilted like she's not sure of herself.
Can I come over then? You can say no, but please. You need more, I'll give you more. I promise.
Grace feels her stomach lurch when she sees it, because it's torn so badly. She texts back as if her fingers are acting of their own volition.
Not at my house.
Where then?
I don't know. You still have your old apartment right?
Yeah, I do. No-one's in it at the moment.
That sounds fine.
Ok. Yes, that's great. See you in ten?
She sounds so tentative and painstakingly nervous that Grace almost cringes.
Ok.
***
It's like she's moving in auto-gear, she doesn't remember much about pulling on a sweater and wrapping her hair up in a messy bun, and getting in the car to drive herself to Hannah's. She only knows that there's a ringing in her ears and my god, she can't believe she's doing this. She can't believe that she's gotten to this point of where she's moving towards Hannah, and she's spent all this time moving away.
She seriously considers throwing up in the bushes next to Hannah's house because she can feel her knuckles against the door and she can hear the grinding of the lock beneath her skin the moment she starts too.
And then all of a sudden, they're staring at each other and Grace knows that it's the only person she's wanted to see for the past month of her fucking miserable life, but she's doing everything in her power not to run back to her car and drive as far away as possible.
But there's also this strange urge in her because Hannah's looking at her as though Grace holds the world in her irises, like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. And it's still the same way Hannah looked at her when they first told each other they were in love, and the same way when Grace said 'yes' to Hannah's 'Will you marry me?' And this urge that Grace wants nothing more than to be pinned up against the door and laughing into Hannah's kiss and whispering 'I love you I love you I love you' over and over again.
But she's pulled out of her small reverie of the reality of the situation as Hannah breathes out a small, "Hey."
Grace can't move, she can't speak, she has to close her eyes momentarily to stop her from falling over. That voice, it's been so long since she's heard it.
"Please, say something Grace," Hannah pleads softly, "That message you left, I just, please just say something, that can't be the last thing I hear from you."
Grace still can't bring herself to say anything, but there're so many words and cries and something's that she wants to scream in Hannah's face. But she's tired. So, so tired. She can't bring herself to open her mouth and form any words.
She's staring straight into Hannah's face which is slowly breaking in two, and she realises why as Grace feels a tear slip down her cheek, maybe that's why her throat's burning.
The silence is broken as Grace moves up on step towards the door and she swears she hears Hannah gasp, "Excuse me," she whispers, and Hannah immediately steps back and lets Grace glide through the door, like she's not sure if she should be doing this at all.
Grace feels Hannah's presence in the room despite facing the other way, glancing upon the painting hanging on the wall. It's an abstract painting, of what Grace can only imagine as the ocean, maybe that's a sign, that she needs to get out of here, get off land for a while. She doesn't though. She stays, and then she turns around.
Hannah's standing stock still, her hands wringing together in front of her and she looks anxious, but Grace can't find it within her to give her any words of relaxation.
Grace feels that she can't avoid this forever, so she starts and her voice is rough.
"So. We haven't talked in a while."
Hannah's mouth contorts slightly, like she's trying to keep it together enough to have a conversation, "We haven't talked at all."
Grace scoffs at that, because this is not how this is going to work. So she sets some group rules, "Look, this is how this is going to happen. I'll ask you questions, and you'll answer them. And that's it. You don't get to say anything."
"Ok, ok," Hannah says, holding her hands up a little defensively in front of her.
Grace's eyes are flashing with anger on the outside, but unbridled fear on the inside. She takes a deep and long breath before she starts, "Where've you been staying?"
"Swike's," Hannah says immediately, "she has a spare room."
"Who brought your stuff to you?" Grace says, glancing down at the tight black jeans and hoodie she's wearing, a white t-shirt poking out of the bottom.
"Mamrie, mostly," Hannah says, shrugging.
"How much have you spoken to her?" Grace asks, suddenly a little nervous. Nervous that everyone's gone behind her back and is getting on with their life with a more put together Hannah, maybe they picked her out of this bad equation.
Hannah stills for a moment, her face calculating, she looks troubled, "Hardly at all. Only to call her after, you know..." and yeah, Grace does know and it sends a shudder of anxiety through her, "after that she didn't call much. I think, uh, I think she was waiting for you to make the first move."
Grace's chest deflates a little, a little of the nerves gone. She thinks this is going well, well enough anyway. She's a few exchanges in and doesn't yet feel like throwing something, so that's a positive.
"Right, so, how've you been? Like, without trying to make me feel sorry for you," Grace asks, walking a little further away from Hannah, she can feel herself start to pace, but she stops in her tracks as Hannah responds.
"Like...fucking awful," and her voice is impossibly haggard, "I haven't been able to do anything, I don't get out of bed a lot."
"Good," and it's the same thing she said to Mamrie, but it's a thousand times more biting. Maybe this whole thing wasn't such a good idea.
"What about you?" Hannah asks and it's quiet.
"How the fuck do you think I've been?" Grace spits, finally looking Hannah right in the eyes, the malice in her words is cutting, and Grace can see the small scars they're leaving on Hannah's skin.
"I don't know...all I want to do is fix it," Hannah says, and Grace can hear the tears behind the words.
"Cry me a fucking river, Hannah," Grace says, her voice hoarse but full of guarded hostility, "You couldn't last a fucking day."
The silence is so heavy on both their senses, it seeps into them and they're both left there standing in the wake of the gravity of the situation. And Grace loves Hannah so much, and she misses her, and she hates herself for all of it.
"Why'd you do it?" Grace asks, and it's sudden and chilling in the silence, shattering through it quickly so it startles Hannah. Hannah begins to fiddle with the strings on her sweater, her mouth hanging slightly open like she wants to talk but can't; and fuck that, Grace isn't having that.
"Answer me," she says, as though speaking to a disobedient child. But her voice cracks on the last word because Grace wanted kids with Hannah. Grace considers in that moment throwing herself in front of four lanes of traffic. She doesn't. But only because she wants to stick around to hear the answer.
"Grace, I just, I don't know. I mean I can tell you, but it doesn't sound real or legitimate, it's not logical. You know?" Hannah pleads, wiping the backs of her hands over her eyes, and then gripping hard onto her thighs for what Grace can only assume is stabilisation.
Grace doesn't say anything, just stares, waiting and watching. She doesn't have the energy to compete.
So Hannah continues, her voice broken up into little, tiny pieces, "I just, it's not right, but you weren't scared, you weren't nervous or hesitant or anything. You were so sure...and I just, I got scared. And then I drank too much, and real life seemed miles away and I just, god you have to believe me, I'm so sorry, I fucked up. I never wanted to hurt you."
Grace brings the back of her hand up to her mouth, trying to keep it all in for a moment, but it spills out, "That's not enough, Hannah. It's not enough, I don't fucking get it. You asked me to marry you, and then you got scared. That's not how it works."
There's silence for a few moments as Hannah shakes her head, and her mouth twists painfully, as if to say 'well, that's all I have' and Grace feels like crying until she's shrivelled on the floor with no moisture left in her.
"Did you even want...this?" Grace says ever so quietly, gesturing around in the air. The space that held a future neither of them are sure is ever going to happen, ever going to be repaired enough to happen. It holds a wedding day and a mortgage and kids and a dog and unending cliches and happiness.
Hannah looks as though the wind has been knocked out of her, and in desperation she moves forward to reach out for Grace, and on instinct Grace pulls back as though burnt. Hannah's face falls, but she swallows and starts to talk, "Of course, Gracie. I always wanted this with you. Always. I was just scared, and I dealt with it in the absolute worst way possible, and I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I always wanted this."
"Then why the fuck did you sleep with someone else?" Grace says, finally raising her voice for the first time, "I don't get it!"
"I don't know!" Hannah says, almost matching Grace's volume, but immediately lowering it as Grace's eyes widen and she stumbles back a little, "I don't know. You asked me why, and that's the best I've got, that's it. There was all this planning, and you were so into it and I was so out of my depth and everyone else was so excited and I was just scared."
Grace feels so lightheaded, because she thought that knowing would possibly be better. Be easier to maybe move on or something; but it turns out it isn't. Turns out that knowing Hannah's side makes her want to throw herself off a cliff. She buries her head in her hands and doubles over suddenly, emitting a tiny yell of "Fuck!"
Bringing her head back up there're tears in her eyes and, "I should've realised. How did I not realise?"
It scrapes through the gaps in the silence, and Hannah's speaking immediately, "No, no no Grace. No. This is not on you, it never was and it never will be," she brings a hand to her chest, "I fucked up, okay."
Grace has to close her eyes for a moment, there's so much right now.
"But how could you not've told me? How did it get to that point that you couldn't talk to me?" she says through slightly gritted teeth. Hannah tries to interrupt, but Grace keeps going and her heath is getting short and laboured, hitching on every word, "I should've asked, oh god, no no, I should've known, I-"
And suddenly there are familiar hands circling around her waist, and cradling the back of her head, just catching her before the world went black and her legs gave out. The hands are warm, and soon a body is pressed against hers, and she almost forgot. Almost forgot how good Hannah felt pressed into her space. She wants to let go, to be stronger than this, but she's so tired and she can't find the energy to tell Hannah to let go. With a quiet sob she lets her forehead fall onto Hannah's shoulder and a hand clutch weakly at the back of her sweater, and she cries.
Into her ear she can vaguely hear Hannah whispering, "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I hurt you, I'm so sorry, so sorry. This isn't your fault. Please Grace, I'm so sorry."
And as the tears start to fall down her face Grace finds that she can't be held any longer, she feels suffocated and this isn't right.
Pushing herself, weakly, away from Hannah she catches her forehead in her palm, the other settling on her hip, "No, Hannah, this is so fucked up. Don't you get that? You can't just say sorry and hold me and think it'll all be ok."
"I know, I know that, I do. I just, tell me what-"
"I fucking love you," Grace shouts over the top of Hannah's words, "I love you still, after everything, and I don't know why, but that's never stopped. But I don't trust you right now, Hannah, I just don't. And I don't understand you, and it's never been like that. I thought you were the one person that I got, you know? That one person who'd never do something like this, and you did, but I love you."
There's a beat of silence, and then the resignation in Hannah's voice is unmistakeable, laying everything she has out on the table.
"Grace, I don't know what to do anymore," Hannah says, tears streaming down her face, "I didn't get out of bed for a week, I did nothing. You're it for me Grace, and I can't believe I messed this up, but you're who I want to wake up next to in eighty years. I want to make you believe that I love you again, just give me a chance please, I'll do anything."
"I can't, I can't," Grace starts, and she's pacing again and she can't breathe right.
Hannah walks over to Grace and grabs gently at one of her arms, and Grace starts slightly, not used to Hannah taking to forefront in this conversation, "All I could care about was how much I wanted you back," Hannah says quietly, "that's all I thought about. I didn't care that I couldn't keep food down, or that I couldn't sleep or that none of my friends were talking to me. All I cared about was that you weren't there."
Grace's breath hasn't evened out, and her heartbeat is racing in her ears, and the fact that she can feel Hannah's pounding pulse against her wrist is distracting. But they're staring into each other's eyes, faces only inches away, and the few moments they stay like this feel like days. But eventually, Grace drops her gaze and shakes off Hannah's hand, it falls loosely against her side, as though it doesn't know what to do if it isn't holding Grace.
She hears Hannah's breath catch when Grace starts to walk towards the door, and her starting to sob her name when she places a hand on the handle. Grace turns around, face void of nearly all emotions, she's tired, "I think that's enough.That's enough."
"Grace, please..." Hannah begs, running a trembling hand through her hair.
Grace drops her head to her chest and whispers into the silence, "I'll call you, ok? Just give me a bit, I need...I don't know, but I'll call."
Hannah's face lifts, and her jaw drops a little, and Grace realises that she thought they were losing each other, "Yeah?"
Grace just nods, and then opens the door and steps out into the small breeze that's lifted. The click of the door behind her feels kind of like a change of heart.
***
It rings two and half times before Hannah picks up with a breathless, "Hey."
Grace's stomach is tumbling again at the sound of her voice and she feels warm inside, "Hey."
It's quiet for a small moment, Hannah waiting on her to say something. It always had to be Grace first.
"I love you," Grace says. And it's so fulfilling to say that. Because for the first time it's not said out of hate and it's not said followed by the sinking weight of weakness. She feels the words so wholly and full of fondness, she wants Hannah back.
And Hannah must hear the difference too because there's a small, but sharp intake of breath and she whispers back, "I love you too."
***
Grace finds it impossibly hard for the first couple of months. Because there are distant acquaintances still asking, "so, when's the big day?" and she hasn't got an answer anymore. And the both of them trying to get back into a rhythm of normalcy proves to be even harder. They do things as normal, and it takes a long time for the conversation not to be so stilted and odd and stifling; but it gets there eventually.
The first time they catch each other just looking at one another, they immediately look away, but there's faint blush rising on their cheeks and they feel like teenagers again. But there's still times where they catch themselves being completely different to what they were before. And it's simple and understated, but it hurts. It's when they're sitting on the couch, and instead of being a mess of limbs and scents, they're sitting at opposite ends, scared to initiate that contact again, maybe it's still too fresh. Maybe they're both expecting too much, too soon.
But it kind of seems that everything might turn out alright when one night, they're lying in bed and it's been a long day for them both. Grace had to spend the entire day on the go, meetings and script edits and more meetings; and Hannah's been head down with a new book, talking it over all day with the publishers. And it takes them both a while to realise that they're holding each other, and they just kind of fall into it at some point, and it feels right.
For the first time since they're started to repair they haven't had to think about something that used to be normal.
Grace has her arm across the flat of Hannah's stomach, the other curled into the space between their ribs, and Hannah's softly carding her fingers through Grace's hair; just like they always used to.
And it comes easily, and softly through the silence when Hannah says, "Do you wanna hear something cool?"
"Mm," Grace mumbles through sleepiness, her head pressed into Hannah's shoulder.
"I read today that the biological response to feeling love, is similar to that of ingesting cocaine," Hannah says, her tone low.
A small laugh escapes Grace's lips and she smiles with closed eyes into Hannah, "You're insane. Are you likening your love for me to hardcore drug use?"
"Well, now that you mention it," Hannah laughs out.
"I don't know what I let myself hang around you, you're terrible."
"I'm a charmer in my own right, I think," murmurs Hannah into Grace's hair, her voice becoming sleepy.
There's silence for a few moments, and Grace tangles their ankles together.
"You know what? I really love you," Grace says, like it's the easiest thing in the world.
Hannah traces a line along Grace's jaw with her finger, and kisses just beneath her temple, whispering into the skin, "I really love you too."
And maybe it'll all be ok.
They'll eventually fix, and it'll take time. But neither of them can think about anyone else in that moment. And maybe that moment's enough.