Speak Up

We walk to the kitchen in awkward silence.

That's unheard of, there is never anything awkward between us, but I can feel him being weird and I can smell his anxiety, so it’s infecting me.

We sit down to eat together, but Farrow isn't eating like normal. He's a big man and spends most of the day exercising, so he's always hungry... except when he has a lot on his head.

"Okay, what's going on?" I ask when I can't take it anymore. Farrow swallows but keeps looking down at his plate for a few more seconds, "Did something happen today at work?"

He nods, still silent. Now I shut my mouth and wait for him.

"I can't talk about what's going on yet," he mumbles almost to himself, a deep scowl on his pretty face, "I haven't finished thinking about it."

"Overthinking about it, you mean," I say, pushing my food away and looking deeper into his eyes. Usually, I would let it go and let him bring it up on his own, but I can't today. I had that bad feeling all day, it's probably about this somehow, "Aleksei, just say it."

"No, Sky, I don't even know how..."

"Say it," I repeat, frowing and crossing my arms while I look at him, "I don't want to let this go and be weird around each other all night. We never fight like that, let's not start now."

"Well, that's kinda the stuff I was thinking about," he starts, lifting a hand to his hair to scratch it, "Okay, we'll talk about it now... but let me finish speaking and trying to explain myself. Don't get mad."

What the fuck?

I nod, but I'm totally freaking out. What could he possibly have to say that would make me mad?

"I was thinking we need a break," he says after a few seconds, making my mouth drop open. Out of everything I thought he would say this was not it, "Like, break up for just a little bit."

There is instantly a sea of dark thoughts flooding my head, but for some reason I can't speak at all. I'm in shock.

"Hear me out, please," he keeps going and grabs my hand on the table. I really need an explanation, so I let him, "I love you so much, Sky. Like... I would legit take a bullet for you. I would give you a kidney or a lung or my literal heart and I'm not exaggerating. You and Bobbie share the number one spot of the people I love the most and that's never changing."

"But?" I ask, because I feel it coming. Farrow shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Today, when the new people came into the center, something happened," he starts, I nod for him to continue, "There’s a girl among them. A girl my age, very pretty. Like… so pretty.”

I snatch my hand so fucking fast I hit myself accidentally. Then I stand up.

"You promised to hear me out. Sit back down," he orders and pulls me so I sit down again. He gives me one his rare serious and intense stares, "I saw her and I thought: wow, she's so, so hot. She had my attention for a few seconds before I snatched it away in guilt, but that had never happened to me before. For… my whole life, you’ve been the only girl I ever looked at like that."

Until now.

I don't think he understands how much he just hurt me. I close my eyes so I can control my face, but it's useless because my tears start dripping out.

"Skylar, god, please don't cry," he says and I can feel him getting up and kneeling in front of me, grabbing both my hands and trying to give me comfort but it doesn't work, not after he just said that.

"I've been thinking about that all day. The girl didn’t really pay any attention to me, but she had mine all day," he continues, trying to hurt me even more, I guess, "And I realized... damn, I've really only been interested in one person my whole life. I'm twenty-eight and I never even had a crush on someone else, I've only ever been in love with you. I never experienced anything like a normal man, I didn't get to know myself in that way, like a single guy. I never went out to clubs with the intention to pick someone up or been out on disastrous first dates like the rest of my friends. Hell, just now my friends are finally catching up to me and the life I've had for fourteen years and it sucks to realize I missed out on a lot. So then I started thinking, god how fucking selfish of me to wish of a life that doesn't involve you. And then I realized it's the same shit for you. It's only been me for you. I'm the only guy you've ever kissed, the only guy you've ever loved. You missed out on a lot as well."

"I don't look at it that way, though " I say. My voice all shaky, "I thought I was lucky to find my person so early in life. Someone I have so much fun with, never fight with and have great sex with."

"How do you know, though?" He asks, his jaw set. I frown in confusion, "How do you know is great sex? I've only ever fucked you, I don't have experience. You could have the worst sex life and you don't even know."

"Do you think I'm stupid or something? Trust me, I would know. But I guess if it sucks so much for you I have to rethink my entire life."

"Come on, it doesn't suck for me. It's different for a guy, sex always feels good," he says, stabbing yet another metaphorical knife in my chest, "God, everything is coming out wrong. I mean, I love sex with you, of course. You're not the one who needs experience to make it good, I am."

I laugh. In bewilderment. Who the fuck is this guy in front of me?

"I didn't mean it like..." he shakes his head and groans in frustration, "I just mean, I hate to think I've been a horrible lover for all these years because I never fucked anyone else. But whatever, this is not about us fucking other people, I just want us to take a break to figure out who we are as single people."

“And all of this came to light because you saw a girl who had your attention most of the day?” I ask. Farrow makes a grimace, but nods. Holy shit, this hurts, “Really, Farrow? Did you flirt with her, did you…”

“No, no. She’s the new receptionist and I didn’t get the chance to speak to her at all, I just kept turning to look at her. Over and over,” he admits. I have to close my eyes and take deep, deep breaths, “This has never happened to me before, Sky. Me being so into someone else, it’s not normal. So, that’s why I want the break. To figure out if it’s just a quarter-life crisis or if I’m…”

“Over me?” I whisper, my chest constricted.

“Actually interested in her,” he finishes and that’s worse. Way, way worse.