Elena shook her head, backing away from Mark. “No,” she said, “you can’t tell me that now.” She had to look away from him, from the pain in his eyes. She couldn’t deal with this, not now.
“Elena,” he said softly, “please, it’s true.”
She shook her head. “No. No! You can’t tell me that you love me. Not now.”
She hated the quiver in her voice, the hope that flooded her chest and just as quickly drained out as she forced herself back to reality. “You don’t get to tell me that.” Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she fought them back. She needed to be strong. “I was in love with you for years, Mark,” she choked. “Years. I finally just got over you, I was finally able to move on, and now? Now is when you say you-” she couldn’t say the words.
At least Mark had the decency to look ashamed, and she saw some of her own pain mirrored in his face.
“Elena,” he said, his voice breaking on her name, “I am so sorry. I don’t- I didn’t-” He looked around the room as if the walls might find the words he was seeking. “I didn’t know,” he finally whispered.
“Yeah, well, that much was obvious,” she shot back, hoping beyond hope that anger would rip apart the last shreds of hope in her heart. “Although I don’t know how you couldn’t. I was so stupid. I followed you around like a puppy, so pleased with any attention you threw at me. I was so pathetic,” she laughed bitterly. Now she knew, at least, that her heart was not to be trusted.
Mark took a step toward her, reaching out, and it took all her willpower to stay still, to not move. To run away from him, or run to him, she didn’t know.
“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You aren’t pathetic.” His hand hovered over her arm, like he wanted to hold her but wasn’t sure if he should. “Don’t shut me out,” he whispered. “Please, just don’t shut me out.”
The tears fell from her eyes, and she couldn’t stop them. “Why now?” she said, looking into his eyes, searching for something in his face. Trust? Truth? She didn’t think those things existed anymore.
“I don’t know.”
As much as she hated that answer, hated how ambiguous and unhelpful it was, she had to accept it. Hadn’t she asked herself the same question, with the same answer, over and over? She had given up trying to understand love.
He reached up, slowly, tentatively, as if trying not to startle her, and brushed away a few of the tears on her face.
“I can’t stand knowing I made you cry.”
“It’s not the first time.”
He looked away from her, and she almost reached out to comfort him – the anguish on his face broke her already shattered heart.
“How can I fix it?”
She sighed. “I don’t know if you can.” Her voice was quiet, but most of the quiver was gone. She had cried it out.
“Please, I know I probably don’t deserve it, but please give me a chance to prove myself, Elena. To prove that I love you.”
She shook her head. “No. Not when you say it like that, like there are points and scores and something to win.” She paused. “I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know if I can trust myself.”
“It kills me that you think that, about yourself more than me,” Mark said, taking another step forward. She had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him. “I know you don’t think you can trust me, but you can. You did before this. I know you think everything has changed, but it really hasn’t. I think I always loved you, I just didn’t realize it. When you left,” he looked away, and she thought she saw his eyes water. “It broke me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I kept wanting to tell you things, ask your opinion, hear your laugh. I needed you.” He looked back at her, his eyes pleading. “Please, Elena?” he whispered.
He was so close. She closed her eyes, trying to think. Could she do this? This, him, is what she wanted for years. Could she let all that go, let herself start over, let herself be happy?
She nodded slightly, eyes still closed, and felt his lips press softly to hers.
She threw her arms around him and let go.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020