8 Pt 2 : Done

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Théo straightened in the backseat and stared at the woman beside him about to start crying. What she just told him didn't quite sound right. He was still pretty jet lagged; maybe he'd misheard her.

"Honestly..." Veronica took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her eyes. "We both need it right now."

"No," was all he replied. She must be sloshed. Or high?  Did smoking weed affect her judgment and emotional state this bad?

"It doesn't have anything to do with that. Okay?"

"Quoi?" he said out loud, looking into her glinting eyes. His brain did a rewind. She probably thought he was still brooding over her refusal to his stupid proposal.

"I should've talked to you sooner. It's not fair; I know. And I feel awful. I'm not trying hard enough." Her voice wavered, and he could only watch as she tried to steady her breath. "It's just— You're doing so great and...I don't want this to confuse you. Or keep you from doing what you want—"

"It's not." 

"It's just gonna be like, a little time off." 

"Non." Théo stayed still, having trouble processing it all in, so he opted to wait for her to calm down. 

"Please."  Veronica kept fidgeting beside him and sniffled, disappointment clear in her strained voice. "You know what I mean—"

"No.  In how many languages do you want me to say it? What d'you really wannna say?"

"I'm getting sick of this setup." 

He shrugged. "Which is why I asked you to think about moving to Paris. But you keep saying no."

She sighed in frustration. His sulky reply didn't help stop her tears.

"Take a break. You're just stressed out. Stop overthinking." He maintained a stern expression. His hands fisted but felt somewhat numb. His palms kept sweating. Théo swore to himself, still hoping this night would turn out differently. But he was almost relieved than sorry for himself for her bluntness.

Via moved closer to embrace him, then pulled away when he didn't budge. A mixture of pain and hopelessness welled up across her face.

Her lovely, pretty face...   Her nearly bare makeup just made him want to stare at her all night. She smelled fantastic, too.

Shit. His chest actually hurt now. Something in him ached; most of him felt hollow. He wanted to run off. Truth be told, he was itching to get out of her car, get a drink, and then tie himself onto something because she looked so beautiful in her floral dress. She'd look beautiful without it, too, for sure.

Oh boy. It hadn't even been a week yet since he last saw her.  Dammit.  Why?  Why did he have to miss her so much all the freakin' time?

"You'll be fine," she then said matter-of-factly just to cut off the awkward silence. Her hands were busy wiping off more tears. "You'll do great, babe."

"Tu as bu, ou quoi?"

"You wouldn't need to put up with this anymore," Veronica said while her slightly quivering lips faked a smile.

He sat still and said nothing, bothered by her attempt to lighten up the conversation. This talk was somehow making him dizzy. It would only end with them being in disagreement.

She made, played, lived, and breathed music...and he knew how much she loved her job. Everything else was just secondary—including him. He didn't need to make sense of it all. It was just the bitter truth.

But how was he anything but supportive?

At one point, he'd even sworn to his friends she was his soulmate.  "She's the one,"  he'd proudly told his best friends barely a month ago. She was what he'd been waiting for all this time—talented, intelligent, kind, and beautiful. She was going to be his keeper. His future. His life.

Apparently, she thought he was demented for thinking it.

"I'm just tryin' to be reasonable."

"And I'm not?" He scowled at her tone. It made him think he just had no choice in the matter. His hand moved and blindly reached for the door handle. Not knowing what to do next, he watched her cover her entire face, then watched her sob.

He bit back the urge to curse out loud. His face was heating up. His throat felt sore. Air barely penetrated his lungs now. Not long, a rush of panic pushed him to open the car door.

Via grabbed his forearm. "I don't know why I thought you'd understand, but could we at least deal with this like adults?" she managed to say before he could step out of her car.

Her damp cheeks, swollen eyes, and the impatience in her voice forced him to stay still beside her. Her reasons were beginning to sink in. But her pained expression told him their grueling schedules and demanding jobs wasn't the whole picture. 

A pesky feeling in his gut made him suspect their unstable long-distance setup wasn't the only culprit. Why now? After almost three years together? Why did she decide to just break it off?

Théo shut the door. His disappointment was pushing him to leave and detach himself from the situation and process everything. But instead, he sat closer to her, let out a sigh, and just waited for her to stop crying.   "Somethin' else you wanna tell me?"

"I want to stay friends," she murmured, staring down at her hands, cheeks now flushed.

He scoffed. "Yeah, 'cause that just sounds like it'll pan out for everyone."

She kept still beside him and didn't say anything back.

"You've gotta be kidding."

"Could you just drop the attitude so we could talk this through?"

He massaged his temple. Why did he even think for a second that this date would be some kind of kickoff for their upcoming third anniversary? Heck. It was like dealing with his overdramatic ex all over again. Damn. "You're throwing it in. We're not even halfway there yet."

Veronica kept wiping her face with his handkerchief. It took her a couple of deep breaths to give him a response. "It's just some time off.  Why is that so hard to—"

"Fine! Get it done. Go tour with him all you want, do whatever you gotta do."  He shoved the car door open and stepped out before he could smash the window.  "Just stop trying to make me think you're doing me a favor." 

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