Work Text:
They didn’t mind the constant traveling
They didn’t mind the whispers
They didn’t mind that this wasn’t paradise
They made their own paradise in hotel sheets and each other’s company.
And they hadn’t stopped.
Hadn’t gotten closure.
Not by half.
They didn’t sleep together but they wanted to.
Wanted to be close to home.
Or to another person who didn’t see them as just a famous person on tv.
Or to comfort
Because that’s what it was at the end of the day.
It wasn’t love
It wasn’t lust
It wasn’t friendship
It was comfort.
It was the closest thing to comfort
with just a bit of danger thrown in.
There was just enough of an edge to their conversations to make Vanessa feel alive. To make her feel like breathing wasn’t just an option.
And it was comfortable for a time.
During press week and during the first few weeks of the show.
They would FaceTime and joke around and pretend they didn’t know what the other looked like when they kissed.
It became less comfortable the longer the show went on.
Each week brought a new wave of emotions. Brought up things that had been buried or turned away.
Each week brought new fan edits, new moments for people to analyze, new memories for Vanessa to reminisce about, new ways for her to miss him.
It shouldn’t have worked like that.
It should have just been sad
It should have just broken her heart
It did the opposite.
She saw herself falling in love in the past and for some unknown reason, her heart decided to mimic those same feelings in the present.
She fell in love with Brock all over again.
Fell in love with the way his arms wrapped around her shoulders.
Fell in love with his nervous energy that she could practically feel through the screen.
Fell in love with his dorky smile and horrible fashion sense and his unending need for perfection.
She fell.
And she knew he could tell.
But she couldn’t help that her love leaked out through her eyes.
Or that she looked at him like he was the sun.
She couldn’t help it.
She tried. God did she try.
She was a baddie on Instagram and Twitter.
She didn’t need him.
And then sometimes he would get close to her.
Close enough to smell.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to love.
And she wasn’t so bad anymore.
She was just a girl sitting on a couch in her living room after her mother had gone to bed. Watching The Notebook for the third time that week.
She was just Jose.
He was just lonely.
He was just crazy.
He just loved a boy who loved him back.
And it wasn’t enough.
It should be.
It was in every book or show or movie.
Love was always enough.
Love was what saved the day
Love was what everything was all about.
Love was enough.
But it wasn’t.
Not now.
And no matter how much she loved movies
No matter how often they kissed in the rain
or told each other the story of their respective lives
or fell in love with the little things they each did
or made each other better in the process
no matter how much all of that was true
It still wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough to make him stay.
It wasn’t enough to make it work.
It wasn’t enough to heal.