Someone Out There Loves You

Chloe POV

I felt physically sick. Not just a little nauseous, like I was coming down with a bit of a cold or flu. No, I was sick to the point that I dry heaved into the toilet bowl, but nothing came up. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that I looked awful. I hadn’t slept all night, a mixture of guilt and anger keeping my mind awake and active. By the time I saw six am flash on the digital clock that rested on my bedside locker, I knew going to work was impossible. I got on well with my boss, and since I had never called in sick before, he told me to get back to bed and rest up, and not to worry if I needed another day or two to recover. I thought maybe then I would get some sleep, but it still didn’t come. I drifted from the bed to the couch, where I dragged the duvet with me to cuddle up with my despair and self pity.

Gerard still hadn’t come home. I didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing. I had tried calling his cell, but it was dead, and I knew there was no use in leaving a voicemail. He would probably delete it before he even listened to it. I had no idea what I should do, or how I should feel about our argument. He didn’t deny that he had slept with Gillian, but he didn’t admit it, either. Had I unfairly accused him? Had I let jealousy and insecurity override my senses? Or had I caught Gerard red handed? I was at work all day, and he had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted, without me knowing. Had I been stupid to think that a man so used to using sex to get what he wanted would change so quickly? Had I forced a change on him that he wasn’t ready for? Was this of my own doing? Or was I just blinded by love and charisma? Was Gerard just another reminder that men couldn’t be trusted, no matter how much I was in love with said man? There were too many thoughts trying to gain some airtime in my head, making it impossible to focus on any one train for too long.

I was in a bad place. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t eat, and I sure as hell wasn’t fit to shower, or do anything that was remotely productive. I needed to talk to Gerard, and resolve our fight. We fought a lot, sure, but this was different. This wasn’t a little spat over stupid domestic stuff. I wished it was, because then my stomach wouldn’t be twisted in fear, anxiety and anger. I stayed on the couch, like the pathetic person I was, as though the world would end if I moved.

He finally came home sometime after noon. He looked more than a little worse for wear. His skin was sickly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and the bags underneath suggested that he didn’t sleep at all. I could smell the alcohol on him when he came into the living room. He didn’t seem drunk, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. He was hungover, from the looks of it, and it made me question how much he must have drunk, in order to have gotten into that state. I had never seen him suffer from one before. He was capable of handling his drink, and his tolerance well exceeded my own.

“Where were you?” I asked, finally getting up from the couch.

He eyed me wearily, his eyes squinting as he glared at me.

“Would you believe anything other than 'I was screwing someone for money or favours'?”

“Gerard, I’m-“

“Sorry? Doesn’t change the fact that you’re never going to trust me, are you?” he slurred. “Be honest Chloe, you’ve been waiting for the chance to catch me out, prove that I’m just the whore who’ll screw for the right price?”

“No! I shouldn’t have accused you of that last night. I was wrong, I was just-“

“Insecure? I know. Hell, who wouldn’t be insecure with a whore for a boyfriend. Guess leopards don’t change their spots, right?”

“Gerard, I’m trying to apologise here, okay?So just shut the fuck up for a second! I was wrong, okay? I know you worked so hard on your comic, and I shouldn’t have trivialised it. I shouldn’t have made it seem as though you couldn’t have gotten the pitch on your own merits. It was bitchy, and I know I’m horrible, and I let my jealousy get to me. I’m sorry.”

Gerard nodded, his face impassive,and I felt a real fear in that second that he was going to tell me that I had been right, that he had indeed fucked his way into the comic industry. He didn’t look mollified by my apology.He wasn’t pacified or pleased that I'd swallowed my pride for once, and actually apologised.

“No, it’s okay, Chloe. I get it. I really do. Why wouldn’t I do it? I mean, I’ve screwed half the socialites in the city. Sex is nothing to me, and never has been. It’s never been emotional, it’s never been about a connection, or romance, or commitment. Screwing some rich bitch was just a way to make ends meet, a way to get what I needed. You think I would give up an opportunity to get a comic published, if the only thing standing in my way was fucking someone?”

His words hung in the air, heavy, tense and challenging me. I bit my lip, and I thought about what he asked me. Did I believe Gerard would fuck his way to get what he wanted, especially if the act was as meaningless to him as he so bluntly proclaimed?

“I don’t think you did,” I answered, shaking my head.

I wasn’t sure if I believed it. All I knew was that I could get over it, as long as I didn’t know for sure. In this situation, ignorance was bliss.

“You don’t even mean that. Even if you did, how long until you find another reason to bring it up? How long until someone finds out, and makes you feel embarrassed, or uncomfortable? What if, heaven forbid, you somehow meet an old client? What then, Chloe? Are you going to watch my every move then? Are you going to be paranoid every time I leave the house? Are you going to check up on me, to appease your insecurity?”

“Gerard-“

“Don’t you see it? This is only going to go one way, Chloe. It doesn’t matter what I do, or what I say, you will never trust me. Seven months down the line - seven months of us living together, doing everything together - and the very first time something comes up, you jump to one conclusion. What the fuck does that say?”

“It says that I’m an idiot. I’m stupid, and I messed up, but we can move forward. Normal people argue, and do silly shit all the time. It doesn’t mean anything!”

“But we’re not normal, Chloe. We don’t have a normal relationship. We can’t tell people how we met. What about in a few years, maybe we have children? What would you tell them, huh?”

“That stuff doesn’t matter, Gerard.”

“But it does, Chloe. It does matter, and it’s gonna eat you up inside eventually.”

It suddenly hit me, in that exact moment, what was about to happen. I knew what way he was thinking, and the panic was instantaneous.

“We tried, Chloe. We really fucking tried, but I think we both know that this isn’t going to work.”

I was in complete shock. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to apologise, and things would be okay. This wasn’t part of the plan. Panic struck in a sharp burst of adrenaline, making me take a step forward as a pathetic plead escaped from my mouth.

“This can work, Gerard. Don’t do this!Don’t end it like this!”

“It’s for the best.”

“No it’s not. You’re punishing me for making a mistake.”

“If that’s how you wanna see this, fine. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

He walked into the bedroom we shared, and from the rustling I could hear, he was packing a bag. I felt cold inside, like all the warmth had been sucked out of me. It crossed my mind to go in, and make him see sense. Pride wouldn’t let me, though. I wasn’t going to make him stay. I wanted to beg him to stay, to not hold my mistake against me when I’d so understanding in the past, but the bigger part of me refused to lower myself to that level of pathetic behaviour. In the back of my mind, one thought took hold - if he wanted to leave, he obviously didn’t love me enough to stay.

The tears welled up, and a few slipped out, but I refused to let them fall. Yet again, I wasn’t enough. I should have known better than to let myself think that someone could love me enough to put up with me and all my baggage and insecurities. I could hear him leave the room, but I wouldn’t turn to look at him. I stayed on the couch, with my back turned to him, and it took all of my self control not to look at him and plead for him to give me a chance. I could feel his gaze on me, waiting for me to do something. Maybe he wanted me to beg, and degrade myself, to give his ego a boost. Is that what it would take to make him stay? It would be so easy to do it, but, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, though. So, I stayed where I was, unmoving and unwavering in my stubbornness. The next thing I heard was the door slamming, a gust of draft brushed against my skin, and then my self control vanished, and I was nothing but a blubbering mess of regret on the couch.

Notes

So sorry for the delay. I have no excuse - I had this written days ago...I just lacked motivation to post it. I hope you guys like it anyway, I know it's not the greatest chapter ever.

Lyra xxx