South of Nowhere Renaissance

"I'm just not ready yet."

She paces around the room restlessly, opening and closing her mouth before finally shutting it firmly and taking place in front of the wall high window. Minutes tick by slowly as I see her gazing expressionlessly towards the skyline. Fists are clenching and unclenching next to her barely covered hips, immediately skyrocketing me back to the night before. Skin heatening, bodies writhing, backs arching, fingers curling, mouths gasping, love confessions whispered, souls uniting.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to lead you on. I just …"

"Just what Spencer? Just came here for a one-night-stand? Or are we going to become fuckbuddies now?" she snaps at me harshly, still not turning around.

"No, Ash you know it's not like that." I whimper softly.

"You know I'd never be able to just have meaningless sex with you. It doesn't work that way. We don't work that way."

"Than how do we work, Spence?" she says now clearly aggravated.

I sigh as I see her leaning against the thick glass. Her forehead rolling against the cool glass as she slumps back. I slowly stand up and make my way towards her, straining myself not to hug her from behind. Straining myself not to make it any harder on the both of us. So I just linger back in that place where you're wondering what's too close and what's too far.

"How _do_ we work Spence?" she half sighs half whimpers, letting the battle seep out of her body.

How do we work? How can somebody even come close to define our relationship in a few sentences? How can somebody explain what we felt and still feel? How can somebody stop a connection so strong yet so fragile? How do you solve us without a common formula. How do you mend our hearts without damaging it even more?

How do we work?

"I don't know. Last time …"

"Last time, I fucked up! Damn it Spence, don't you think I know that?"

She whirls around, and all I see is her angered face and the flashes of hurt in her eyes. All I hear are her screams echoing in this empty apartment of hers. And all I can do is hug myself tightly, and take of few steps back. Because all I can remember are images of a certain brunette, in a dark and empty studio on the other side of town. Feeling helpless and fragile and hurt all at the same time. And no matter how much I try to think straight and part one brunette from the other, I can't. Cause I've been hurt so much lately. Whether intentionally or not, it happened too many times. And I didn't brace myself enough. I didn't prepare myself for the worst, because I always expected the best. Something I had to thank to my never ending optimism. A part of mine that has been shattered lately, and of which I'm not willing to fix quite yet. So I brace myself and take my precautions. No matter how ridiculous it sounds and how unbelievable it seems.

"Did you just flinch?"

"No." Is my too weak reply.

"Yes, you did. You flinched –and you …–you backed away from me. Spencer …"

A mixture of shock, unbelief and utter hurt register on her face as she processes my actions. She makes of few futile attempts to talk, while she searches for an explanation in my eyes. Silently begging me why I'm acting the way that I am. But all I manage to do is lower down my gaze, before my held up tears threaten to cascade down my face. It's the only answer she gets and it's all she needs to make her way towards the door and leave in her too casual attire, that isn't meant for the public eye. In her little grey Snoopy t-shirt that once was mine, but somehow became hers along my many sleepovers. Draped in her too short shorts, because Ashley does not know the meaning of covering your skin outside the house let alone in the intimacy of her place. The same place in which she left me behind, to let my thoughts eat my mind. To let me realize what I had done and how she perceived it. Instantly feeling my guts wrench in the most painful manner. Because I know that she didn't deserve that. I know that she didn't deserve to feel what I just made her feel. She never gave me any doubt to fear her in any form. No matter how much she hurt me, I know it was never the slightest bit intentional.

And it just makes me hurt even more, than I already have. Unfortunately shadowing the dreamy night of before. Bringing me back to this heart-breaking reality. And I can't help but curl myself in the farthest corner of her couch, and silently sob myself into sleep.

* * *

I wake to the sound of clattering casseroles, from what I assume is the kitchen. I slowly try to tangle myself from a quilt that wasn't there when I drifted into sleep. I walk up to the entrance of the kitchen, only to smile almost immediately. A domesticated Ashley isn't something I'm very much used too. Besides from the times she'd try and fix us breakfast, only to end up riding us to the closest diner claiming that she had money too much anyway. I'd say she just didn't enjoy burnt toasts and sloppy coffee, but it was just a theory.

I keep standing at the door, simply taking in her movements. The way she's trying to stir three pots at a time and how she tastes the sauce only to make a repulsed face, mutter 'gross' and proceed to season it with every spice she owns.

"Ashley Davies, always trying to spice everything more than necessary."

"Shit, Spencer you shouldn't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah well, it'd only be fair since I obviously scare you." She mutters under her breath.

And it's only then that I notice the rims around her eyes. Those eyes that were so beautiful, vibrant and alive yesterday but somehow have been lifeless in the course of a few hours. Her avoidance is clear when she turns back around and starts to stir all the pots more than necessary. Acting as if, I've never entered the kitchen. Or trying to act anyway, because we both know by the tremor in her hands that she's failing miserably. It's something that she's never done before. Asking me to leave her alone without any words, and actually meaning it. So many times she tried to close herself up from me, when things weren't going her way. But every single time, I stood up and forced her to let me be there for her. To let me take care of her. To let me talk to her. And every single time, she accepted me with little resistance and into her arms. Because I know her. Because in her own twisted logic, it was really her way of asking me to be there for. Her little test to see if I really meant what I said, when I told her I'd never leave her.

But this is different. This is going way beyond that. And it's clear that I crossed a certain line, without me really perceiving it yet. So for the first time since she walked into my life, I take in the signals for what they are and leave her alone. And when I walk through the door, I don't need to turn my head to know that she has turned hers before she slowly lowers it asking herself how we came to this point.

* * *

The meal is awkward to say the least. Not because the pasta is overcooked, or because the sauce is spiced up to the point where I can't take a bite without drinking a glass of water along with it. It's awkward because there isn't any sound besides forks scrapping porcelain, gulps of water being drunken or automated coughs being made. It's awkward because when I left the kitchen, I couldn't bring myself to leave the house. It's awkward because I could hear silent sobs faraway from me, that weren't meant to be heard. It's awkward because when she entered her room, tears still in place, the last thing she expected was me curled up on her bed with her pillow drawn to my heart. You know what wasn't awkward though? How she sat herself beside me and slowly started stroking my hair, without asking any questions. Or how she lowered herself to kiss my temple, and whispering in my ear that she made my favorite. Or in her words 'made an attempt to'. Nothing was awkward about that. Just plain comfortable.

But it's clear that it couldn't last. Words still needed to be spoken, explanations still needed to be given and hearts still needed to be broken or mended. And right now, we were in that phase that proceeded that one. Which might be even more painful than the next one. The agonizing wait for that first step. For that first word, first sentence to be uttered and all hell could break loose. So in this awkward peace, we ignore and eat our too overcooked pasta, with too seasoned sauce and keep our heads down. Awaiting the next phase.

I've always been the bigger person. The one who'd always take the first step into talking and make an attempt to solve problems and save friendships, relationships or families. Because it's what I was supposed to do. Because my dad always taught me that it was the right thing to do. Yet now, I wasn't taking that step. I wasn't being the bigger person. I was scared that I'd somehow screw up even more, than I already did. So I continued waiting. And my patience was soon rewarded.

"Do you remember when you got hit at club-day?" she asks me quietly, not bothering to look up from her plate.

"Yeah."

How can I not remember the day were I first handedly got to experience unjustified hate. The day were I lost a part of my innocence, naivety and belief in people all at once. The day I grew up more than I ever did in a lifetime.

"Do you remember how you got mad at me, and I just couldn't figure out why? Because whatever I did, I did it because it came so naturally. Because I didn't need to think about it, it just happened."

Her head is still lowered and avoiding my eyes, as I nervously poke the plate in front me. Sensing where this is going.

"Do you remember how I came up to you and apologized, but didn't really mean it because I wasn't really sorry? How I would rather be wrong all the time with you being mad at me, as long as I knew you were okay? I'm still the same person, Spence."

And now she's looking right at me with those tired brown pools, desperately searching for an answer into mine. Begging me to tell her what she did wrong and how she could fix it. But little did she know, that for once she wasn't at fault at all.

"I know."

"Then why?"

And as her voice cracks, so does my already fragile heart.

"You didn't do anything-"

"But-"

"No just let me speak, Ash. If I don't say it at once, I might never say it at all. Please."

She nods her head in understanding and places her hands on her lap while fixing her gaze on mine. Giving me her undivided attention while patiently awaiting my words. I've tried to bring the issue up a few times, but never really got through with it. The only person who somewhat knew about it was Chelsea, whom I knew would never tell a soul. But even she only got to hear the light version of it all.

"Do you remember when you invited me to Ego and I brought Carmen along?"

She swiftly nods her head and mouths a needless yes, silently coaxing me to continue.

"We talked that night and you upset me - and I guess she heard us, and we left early to go back to Chels' studio to-"

"Yes."

Whatever happens between us, it's clear that Ashley never wants to hear about my time spent privately with a different person let alone see it. It's endearing and sweet that she'll always feel that way, but it isn't making this any easier right now. And for the briefest moment I consider chickening out again. I ponder leaving her to live in ignorance, with me along with her. Taking the easy path, cause really it would make things so much more simpler. But then I think about silent sobs and exhausted eyes and guilty demeanors, caused by these hidden truths. And I continue.

"We somehow started talking about you –and I don't know –I just was defending you, you know? And she took it wrong, and-"

My words are jumbled, my breathing is erratic and my eyes are slowly welling up. And when I feel that soft hand of hers placed on mine, everything slows down again. All my thoughts click again, my breathing evens and the lump in my throat is slowly evaporating. It's amazing how a simple touch can absorb so many emotions and let loose a whole new range of feelings. Bringing your mind, heart and soul in a roller-coaster ride of different sensations.

"She started yelling and throwing things from the table –and she just got out of hand."

The grip on my hand is getting tighter, but it doesn't help mask the tremble that is residing in hers.

"I tried calming her down, but she wouldn't take it. She got in my face and-"

I'm interrupted by the loud scrapping of her chair against the floor, but even more so by the coldness that hits my hand as soon as hers leaves mine. Not a word is uttered as she makes her way out of the kitchen. Leaving me to follow behind as quickly as possible. I find her putting on some crumpled jeans that clearly have known better days, in almost robotic fashion. She's walking from corner to corner, with a determined expression. I repeatedly call her name, first softly then more clearly, hoping that the loudness will make her react. But she fails to acknowledge me as she frantically searches for her keys, blatantly ignoring any of my pleas.

It's funny that she ever considered me forgetting about her little confession when it came to protecting me. She fails to understand that it was the exact reason why I couldn't tell her earlier. Those hollow eyes and automated moves free of any emotion is precisely what I was so scared off and tried to avoid. Not the fact she would or could ever make them towards me, because that thought was absurd and my earlier reaction to her yelling was out of place. I was scared that she'd react that way to someone who ever even dared to lay a hand on me. Because even though I know that Ashley is a gentle soul with a big heart and no interest in violence, I also know what she is capable of when it came to protecting me.

_"And when it comes down to having the choice of being right or protecting you, I'll be wrong every single time. Because it's just who I am."_

"Ashley, please"

"Please what, Spencer? Please, let this slide and pretend nothing happened? Please, don't be there for you cause I haven't been there for you for months? Please, don't protect you now because I wasn't there to protect you when it mattered most?"

"Ash, it wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't my fault? Wasn't my fault, Spence?"

Her moves are hectic now and she's having a hard time controlling herself.

"If I wasn't such a fucking idiot these last few months, we'd never have broken up. You would've never met her or get involved with her. But then you do and I invite you to this stupid club and I can't keep my fucking mouth shut, and you leave because of _me_ and then you fight about _me_ and after everything thing I did you still defend the fuck-up that is _me_ and then she -"

"Ash- "

"How can it not be my fault, Spence? Ever since I've walked in your life, I've been hurting you."

I don't think I've ever seen her this pained, sad and hurt at the same time. Worse then when I broke things off with her or when I flinched this morning. As if she's realizing that she could never let herself be with me again, if pain was all she could bring to me. What she doesn't know is that the ache that I feel in my chest when I go to bed without her by my side is far more excruciating than any other pain. And the tears that I shed when I rock myself to sleep, sting far more than any tear I shed because of Carmen.

"You're wrong."

But I'm only met with a scoff as she turns around and makes her way towards the door, me in tow.

"Ash, where are you going? Ash, please stay and let's talk about this. Ash, please."

Tears are freely flowing as I desperately cling to her, trying to stop her from doing something stupid and dangerous. But her movements don't stop and soon her hand is on the handle, ready to leave me once again. Ready to make up for her absence these last few months and make a last attempt to right her wrongs. And it's then that I decide to make my own last attempt to stop her.

"If you walk out that door, than you're no different than Carmen."

I expect her to turn around and yell at me and tell me 'it isn't fair' or to just 'watch her' as she walks out to spite me, slamming the door shut on her way out. What I don't expect is her lowering her head and pressing her forehead to the metallic door while slowly loosening her grip on the handle. Closing her eyes and sighing in exhaustion. And unlike this morning, I don't hesitate to make my way towards her and wrap my arms around her waist. I bring my face next to hers as I place my hot cheek to hers, letting our breaths mingle with each other.

"I love you." I softly sigh as I let it drift into the air.

"God, I love you so much Ash."

It's said with such sincerity that even I surprise myself. And it doesn't take long before I feel her tears mixing with mine or to feel her take me into her arms hugging me like she never wants to let go and whisper tender apologies into my ears for all she's ever done wrong.

* * *

"Dude, Spongebob owns."

Sunday morning, lying in a bed in your worn out pj's watching cartoons with your soulmate cuddled up to your side. If anyone ever tries to tell you that there are far more comfortable moments in your life than this one right now, than they haven't gotten the chance to experience it yet. Because there truly isn't a more satisfying feeling you can get, than the one you get out of this.

"Hmm, I figured that out by your dozen Spongebob-shorts." I tease while nuzzling into her neck.

"You love them!"

"I do."

I easily let my mind drift to a Sunday morning a few months ago, that didn't nearly start as comfortable as this one. But that doesn't mean I neglect any of its importance. That day formed the basis of where we are today. Of what we are today. The whirlwind of emotions and confessions all led to the same fact. A fact were it was clear how terribly fond we really were of each other. How miserable we were when we weren't together. Or how in love we really were with each other. But we also knew that being together at all times, wasn't the answer to everything. When we first got together, we needed a solid foundation that was formed by a very rare friendship. And it was clear that we needed to work on that, before we could even think about starting a new relationship. We needed to let our hearts slowly heal, before exposing them to the powerful emotions that shape themselves between us. And little by little we got to that same place we once were, only it wasn't really the same. Because we were both different people, with different experiences then once upon a time. We weren't any better, or worse. Just different. But together we became even stronger.

"You know what I love more though?"

"No." I play along.

"My Spongebob-tanktops."

I immediately swat her with my pillow, before I climb on top of her and conveniently trap her wrists.

"You're an idiot."

"You love me." She answers cheekily, making no attempt to wriggle out of my grip.

"I do."

A comfortable silence envelops us as we gaze into each others eyes.

"Spence?"

"Yeah."

We were so different. But our love never changed. And this journey we were on, wasn't ending any time soon.

We were just getting started.

"Move in with me."


End file.

South of Nowhere, Hurt-Comfort