[ It’s hard to hate TJ. Colin wishes he could. Everything would be so much easier if he could villainize him, turn him into a colossal jerk, and blame him for all the things that went wrong between them. But it isn’t his fault. TJ never lied to him, never led him on or made promises he wasn’t planning to keep. Through it all, TJ had never been anything but honest with him. Maybe Colin hadn’t decided to fall for him, maybe he couldn’t help it, but it hadn’t been TJ’s fault.
He knows that, and he can’t blame him for how he feels. Or for how he doesn’t feel.
So he stands there in the doorway and he doesn’t glare at him or scowl or huff and roll his eyes. He watches him, watches how he glances around and looks awkward and tries to hear what he’s actually saying behind all the false starts and fragments that never manage to go anywhere. For once, Colin tries to be the adult that he is. When he finds it within himself to pull a smile onto his mouth, he thinks that maybe he’s doing all right. ]
I get it. I know. [ He takes a deep breath, then lets it out, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the edge of the door. The smile gets a little ruefully lopsided, but it stays firmly on his mouth. ] And I’m sorry for that. For the—For everything. I know you didn’t want anything like that and I should’ve dealt with it better than I did.
[ Colin knows that he made a mistake. Owning up to it is the least he can do. The feelings aren’t gone. He’s never been able to make them go away that easily, and looking at TJ now it’s the easiest thing in the world. Seeing him like this just brings them all rushing back. But he shoves them down as best he can, trying to find a compromise they can live with.
Because Colin’s life without TJ in it has sucked. It may not be what he wants, but maybe if they’re friends—real friends instead of the blurred lines of what they had been before—maybe it will be enough.
Another deep breath and he plunges ahead, telling himself that it will get easier. He almost believes it, too. At least the smile he gives TJ is genuine enough. ]
Want to start over? See if maybe I can not screw everything up this time around?
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He knows that, and he can’t blame him for how he feels. Or for how he doesn’t feel.
So he stands there in the doorway and he doesn’t glare at him or scowl or huff and roll his eyes. He watches him, watches how he glances around and looks awkward and tries to hear what he’s actually saying behind all the false starts and fragments that never manage to go anywhere. For once, Colin tries to be the adult that he is. When he finds it within himself to pull a smile onto his mouth, he thinks that maybe he’s doing all right. ]
I get it. I know. [ He takes a deep breath, then lets it out, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the edge of the door. The smile gets a little ruefully lopsided, but it stays firmly on his mouth. ] And I’m sorry for that. For the—For everything. I know you didn’t want anything like that and I should’ve dealt with it better than I did.
[ Colin knows that he made a mistake. Owning up to it is the least he can do. The feelings aren’t gone. He’s never been able to make them go away that easily, and looking at TJ now it’s the easiest thing in the world. Seeing him like this just brings them all rushing back. But he shoves them down as best he can, trying to find a compromise they can live with.
Because Colin’s life without TJ in it has sucked. It may not be what he wants, but maybe if they’re friends—real friends instead of the blurred lines of what they had been before—maybe it will be enough.
Another deep breath and he plunges ahead, telling himself that it will get easier. He almost believes it, too. At least the smile he gives TJ is genuine enough. ]
Want to start over? See if maybe I can not screw everything up this time around?