"When did she stop by to see you?" She asks coolly, so when she confronts her mother ─ and she will! ─ she isn't missing any details. It hurt bad enough when he did it himself ─ making calls for her without ever involving her. But to learn her mother has done the same, with him? She's livid. "What gave either of you the right to talk about my life, my future behind my back? To think you knew what was best for me?" Now some of her anger is thrown his way. She can't help it even if she tried. The wound from being shot down by him and the mess she was when picking up the pieces after he left still hurts. And so far this conversation has done nothing to help heal it; it's only reopened it.
Just when she thinks she's figured out where this is going, he does a complete 180, surprising her. The lump in her throat is painful as she tries to swallow it down, listening to him. Her first instinct is to tell him she would have never avoided him; that while she might not have known he was who she was always meant to be with, her heart did.
Loosening her grip on the blanket, thankful she hadn't torn it because what an explanation that would've been to Willow, she feels the corners of her mouth curving into a small smile. "To be fair, Wes was never a friend." She reasons. He was...tolerated company at best. Should she feel bad for thinking that way? Maybe. But she doesn't. It is what it is. "Cordelia, though? I guess you can have her. Only because I'm pretty sure Anya would have my head if I said Cordelia was one of us still." She's not joking. "Tell her I was reluctant in letting you claim her as a friend and I will make your life miserable. I'm talking glitter bombs and spamming your phone with chain texts."
Pushing up from the bed, she takes the chance while he's looking at his hands to gingerly cross the few steps over to her own bed, settling beside him. And although she wants to take his hand in hers, she keeps them folded in her lap, but her eyes on him. "I'd ask how that's working out for you..." Learning to be him on his own, "But I can see it. Even just an hour with you and I can see the space... it's been good for you." The same as it's been for her. And because she's always known he was a good man. She's glad he can see it now, too. "The other part, though. The us part, what about..." She leaves the question hanging in the air, afraid of asking and setting herself up for the let down.
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Just when she thinks she's figured out where this is going, he does a complete 180, surprising her. The lump in her throat is painful as she tries to swallow it down, listening to him. Her first instinct is to tell him she would have never avoided him; that while she might not have known he was who she was always meant to be with, her heart did.
Loosening her grip on the blanket, thankful she hadn't torn it because what an explanation that would've been to Willow, she feels the corners of her mouth curving into a small smile. "To be fair, Wes was never a friend." She reasons. He was...tolerated company at best. Should she feel bad for thinking that way? Maybe. But she doesn't. It is what it is. "Cordelia, though? I guess you can have her. Only because I'm pretty sure Anya would have my head if I said Cordelia was one of us still." She's not joking. "Tell her I was reluctant in letting you claim her as a friend and I will make your life miserable. I'm talking glitter bombs and spamming your phone with chain texts."
Pushing up from the bed, she takes the chance while he's looking at his hands to gingerly cross the few steps over to her own bed, settling beside him. And although she wants to take his hand in hers, she keeps them folded in her lap, but her eyes on him. "I'd ask how that's working out for you..." Learning to be him on his own, "But I can see it. Even just an hour with you and I can see the space... it's been good for you." The same as it's been for her. And because she's always known he was a good man. She's glad he can see it now, too. "The other part, though. The us part, what about..." She leaves the question hanging in the air, afraid of asking and setting herself up for the let down.