Man-eater

"I'm so, so sorry..." I whispered, wishing I could simply drop dead of shame right there.

"Stop. Don't. You can't help feeling what you feel. And... neither can he," she added.

"I... I don't understand..."

"I love him, Ella," she said, soft and sad. "I fell hard for him. And I think he likes me. A lot, maybe. But like isn't love. And he doesn't talk to me. Not like he talks to you. I know how... hurt he is. I know about the... others he carries with him. My dad was the same. In time, maybe Liam would open up to me. But you're... you're his person, Ella. You have been for quite some time now, I think. And that won't change. And it shouldn't," she whispered. "And I won't make it, nor let it. No matter how much it hurts me."

She took a slow, rasping breath.

"You're the one he needs, Ella. Not me."

I stared at her.

She smiled, bright and hopeless.

"I've learned the hard way when to cut and run. I'd... I'd rather take the hot, sharp pain now than the long, slow, degrading death by degrees that staying will cause for all three of us. So that's it. I'm out."

"Oh... oh my God, Kerry..." I whispered.

She made a weird little sound, and I instinctively pulled her to me and wrapped myself around her and held her tightly as I was able.

She closed her own arms around me, and I felt her sob and shudder once in absolute, heartbreaking silence.

Then she released me and stepped back.

"How do I look," she gulped.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful," I whispered, awed by her.

"Good. Okay. Good. I'm... I'm going downstairs to end it with him. I wanted to see you first. I wanted you to be ready. He's going to need you, Ella. Now more than ever."

"Kerry, no, please, he..."

"I can't be the other woman, Ella. I can't do it again. No matter how much I wish I could."

"I... what..."

"He loves you. He just hasn't admitted it to himself yet. Men are broken that way. It's up to us to do what's right for him. And for you."

"Kerry, please, I..."

"Take care of our boy for me," she said. "Fix what of him you can. And... goodbye, Ella. I'm glad I got to meet you, and I'm glad he'll have you when I'm... gone."

"Kerry, no, please, please!" I begged, frantic now. "Please, don't! There must be something..."

She'd already turned away and opened my door.

"I wish there was," she said softly. "I wish to God there was. And I wish I could stay because I think you'd be an absolutely wonderful friend in time. But... life is never fair for people like us. Ella... you have to love him with everything you have. Please. For me."

She stepped out of my life and let the door swing closed behind her.

I slowly sat down right there on the floor and stared unseeing at the inside of my door, listening to her fading footsteps, quite unable to process much more than just how filthy I now felt.

She'd left because of me.

Because I'd let my mouth run away from me in a moment of weakness.

I'd done this.

I'd wrecked everything for them.

He'd hate me.

He'd hate me forever.

A strange sense of calm dropped over me like curtains at the end of the show.

It was done.

Nothing I could do would change things.

I stared at the floor with some of the same tranquil acceptance of a deposed queen climbing the scaffold towards the waiting axe.

Why not stop feeling.

Just for a bit.

And so I went to the kitchen, and found the bottle of bourbon we'd never finished.

And drank it all.

.:.

"Ella? Ella! Can you hear me? Ella?"

Someone was shaking me and it was not nice.

"Mmmrr..." I slurred, protesting.

The kitchen counter was cool under my cheek. I was pleasantly cold and wonderfully numb.

It felt good to be numb.

"Ella, it's Liam. Ella... Ella, I'm getting you to the loo. You have to try to get some of that booze out of you."

I disagreed. I was content where I was.

"Mmm..." I said, proud of my logic.

Someone tucked their arms under my shoulders and lifted me; I whimpered and struggled weakly as I was pulled away from my happy place.

"Come along, love," he said softly.

"Mmm..."

The bathroom floor was cold.

It was not my happy place.

I was unhappy about not being in my happy place.

The toilet's seat was uncomfortable against my forehead.

The toilet's seat wasn't my happy place either.

I was indescribably sad about that.

Libraries would be filled to overflowing with the books I would write about how unfair it was to not be in my happy place.

And my stomach didn't feel quite right either.

In fact, it felt very wrong.

Someone held my hair for me as I gagged.

"Don't... wanna..." I complained to the uncaring world.

And then, an endless, horrific period of purging as I vomited up my soul.

"Why," I sobbed when I could.

My stomach ached.

"You have to. Here's some water. Rinse your mouth. Spit."

I tried, slopping fluid everywhere.

My lips felt strange; numb.

"No..." I panted.

My stomach heaved.

"Nooo..." I moaned, despairing.

It hurt less the second time.

In about the same way amputation probably hurt less than being flayed alive.

I leaned, panting, dribbling watery bile from my nerveless lips, porcelain cool against my clammy skin.

Somehow I felt a bit better.

I managed to open an eye and stare blearily at him.

"Why..." I managed.

"Your door was unlocked. Your door is never unlocked. I was worried. And you didn't answer when I knocked so I let myself in."

"... fucked everything... up..."

"No you didn't. I've... managed that perfectly well on my own."

I moaned as he gently began to rub my shoulders, and tried to turn my face away so he wouldn't see me cry or puke any more.

"But that doesn't mean you're not a bloody idiot," he added. "How much did you drink?"

"Dunno... it... was there..."

"Ella," he said softly, frustrated.

"... can hate me if you wanna. I hate me too," I whispered. "... fucked it all up for you. It's okay. I'll... I'll move away, move away so you can tell her. To come back to you. She's so nice. She'll come back..."

"Oh, Ella," he sighed.

I whimpered as he pushed his face in against my cold and disgusting skin.

"Stop that," he added. "She's gone now. She won't be back. It's done. Finished."

"... so fucking sorry..." I wailed. "She's lovely and... and she's... she's far better..."

I hiccoughed, gagged, spat.

"And... and now I'm... like this..."

"Yeah. It's... not a good look for you," he agreed. "You're far too lovely to get this paralytic, Eleanor."

"Not... lovely," I whispered. "Not nice either... selfish cunt who..."

"Stop," he said, firmly. "That's enough of that. No more. Just... just breathe for a bit, okay?"

"Why are you even here," I said, plaintively. "Must hate me right now. Why are you here?"

"I don't know what you're on about, Ella," he said. "I'm... upset. But not at you. Are you done?"

"With..."

"Puking your guts up."

"... think so..."

"Okay. Here. Rinse your mouth again."

I spat the water out, and groaned as he gently helped me to my feet.

"Come on. Bed or couch?"

"Wha..."

"Where do you want me to move you, you numpty."

"Couch," I whispered. "That way if I... throw up again it will... be on the floor."

He snorted but made no further comment as he picked me up and carried me through to the living area and gently lowered me down. He helped me raise my legs off the floor and then dragged my blanket over me. I leaned into the corner, shivering, watching him as he efficiently cleaned the worst of the wreckage from my counter and sink and rescued the broken glass from the floor where my tumbler had fallen when I'd finally hit my limit.

"Can you face food?"

"No."

"Okay then."

"Liam..."

"Later, Ella. We can talk in a bit. Right now I just need to make sure you're okay. Here. Drink this."

I sipped, gagged, spat it back into the glass.

"That's... vile," I panted. "What the fuck..."

"Sugar water with a teaspoon of salt to balance out your system. You did a good job of trying to poison yourself, I'll give you that. Any more booze and you might have succeeded. Fuck me, you put in a solid effort there. It can't be more than half an hour since you started.. I think you're going to be okay now but this will help sort out your electrolytes a bit. Drink it."

"But..."

"I said drink it," he said, voice going flat.

I stared up at him and judged my chances of refusing. I realised, glumly, that he was in a mood that probably included the scenario in which he held me down and forced it into me if he had to.

So I drank the glass of liquid.

And then I retched.

"You...," I groaned, when I could.

"School of hard knocks," he answered, soft and gentle again. "That's first class medicine, that. Tastes like a bucket of fermented piss, but sorts you out. Right. Make room."

And he dropped down onto the couch beside me.

"Liam..."

"Did you know she was going to leave?"

"No," I whispered. "Not till she came here... earlier... and told me. She must have gone straight down to you. And I... I went to pieces the moment she left. Sorry."

"Okay."

He leaned back and rubbed his face. "She told me that I didn't love her. She's right. I don't. But... I was learning to. I told her that. She said it wasn't good enough for her, it wasn't fair to her, and it wasn't fair to me."

"I didn't know she was coming. I thought it would be you, and... and that I'd have to face you after... after this morning."

He sighed.

"That would probably have been... easier," he said.

"No shit," I whispered bitterly.

"Ella..."

"Mm."

"Is what she said about you... about how you feel... true?"

I gave up trying to protect him or myself.

The truth was out, anyway.

"Yes,' I whispered.

"Oh. Christ. This... this must have been hell for you. Why didn't you ever say anything to me?"

"By what right? I didn't want to be in your way or her way. She was so nice. You deserved someone nice. I'm so sorry I ended up there anyway. I'd give anything to be able to undo all this..."

"Would you really?" he said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable.

I sat, watching him. His expression gave nothing away.

"What do you mean?"

"Would you give up everything you have so that I could be with her?"

"No," I whispered, brought to bay at last. "No. Not everything."

"Why not?"

"Because... I want you too," I whispered.

My chest ached.

"I tried so hard. I really tried so hard not to want you. But... but I do. And... and I have for so long. And I didn't tell you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Why?" he said. He stared at me, brows furrowed. "I'm nothing special, Eleanor."

"You're my everything," I moaned.

"Oh, Ella..."

He shifted closer, and reached out, and put his arm around me as I finally ran out of strength to stave off the quiet, pathetic, hopeless little sobs.

Then he gathered me in to him and tucked me under his chin and rocked me slowly to and fro, to and fro, saying nothing but simply being there, in my space, until I could finally breathe again.

"So what now," I asked him when I finally could.

"I don't know," he said.

"Oh."

"Ella... I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm... confused, right now."

"Oh."

I pulled away, tried to dry my eyes.

"Sorry for messing it all up."

"I came up here because I was worried about you," he said.

"It's okay. I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me any more."

"Ella."

"I don't want to be the cause of any more conflict or confusion. I've... done enough damage."

"Ella, just stop for a bit. That's not what I meant at all. I just... look. I've... just been kicked to the kerb by one girl because my... my best friend has told me she loves me. That's... hard for me to process. It's... going to take me a bit. I'm not used to this."

"To what."

"To being... wanted," he said softly. "Very few people have ever wanted me for me."

"Well," I sniffed. "You're just going to have to add one more to the tally then."

He leaned in, I squinched my eyes tightly together as he kissed my brow.

"Can we... start slowly," he said softly.

"How."

"With me cooking for you. And then, maybe, we could watch a movie together like we used to."

"That would be nice," I admitted. "I've missed those. I've missed you."

"I... was wondering why you weren't coming round. I'm... stupid, I guess."

"Yeah. But so am I. Liam... I really am sorry. She really was a lovely girl."

"I know. She was. But so are you."

"I'm not," I protested softly.

"To me, you are."

I sniffed, and let him pull me back in for another long, much-needed hug.

"I need some time," I whispered. "I need some time to unfuck myself. To... to sort out my head and to stop being such a walking catastrophe. Can... can we take a rain check on you cooking for me? Not... not for long, just for today, I... I just need to sleep for a bit. Please. I just need to sleep."

"I'll let you off until tomorrow. But... then you and I are going to have to sort this thing between us out properly. You're my best friend, Ella. I've never had anyone like you in my life. I never dared to... want more."

"You can want more," I whispered. "You have permission. You can have all of me. Everything I have. It's all yours."

"Okay then."

He kissed me once more - gently, on the cheek; his stubble scratching me and making me wriggle (just a little).

"But you're going to need to shave first," I added, sniffing.

"I know. I will. Come. I'll tuck you in."

So I let him help me up from the couch and put his arm around me and lead me through to my den. He didn't pass any comment about the wreckage of underwear and other clothing that I'd run out of energy to deal with; nor did he say anything about the bright primary colours and beads and pretty shiny trinkets everywhere. He folded my duvet back for me and helped me get my legs up and under it. Then he sighed softly as I pulled him down with me and refused to let go for a moment or two longer.

"There's a set of spare keys in the red jar on the counter," I whispered. "Lock the door for me, please, will you?"

"I'll bring them back later."

"No. Keep them," I said. I yawned, rolled away.

"Sleep well, Ella."

"Love you," I breathed.

"Love you," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, exhaustion settling down on me like a gentle cloak.

And I finally slept.

.:.

We awkwardly began to grope and feel our way around one another's spaces. He was extremely gentle, considerate - too considerate in my opinion, and he toned it down after I snapped at him for treating me like a porcelain doll. And I damped any wishes I had to flirt with him, no matter how tiny the flirtation might be.

I didn't want to lose him, to chase him off by burning too bright too soon.

And soon enough we both realised how ridiculous we were being, called each other out on it, and laughed at ourselves.

Things got better.

Liam had regressed to his old default of meat-based man-food, as he termed it; I slowly started to wean him off beef and pork and reintroduced him to the wonderful simplicity and complexity of vegetables other than the humble spud. And this time the lesson seemed to stick.

We began to see one another every other night, and then soon enough every night.

And we both consequently stopped drinking quite so much.

We resumed our runs, and Liam began taking me with him on shorter versions of his mad cross-country jaunts.

We stumbled across naturalists, and naturists (I screamed at those), and once crossed into the wrong field and had to get back over the fence sharpish to escape a homicidal donkey.

We both laughed quite a lot over that one - once we were safely away and had stopped shitting ourselves.

He showed me parts of the local area that I'd never known existed.

Like the extensive apple orchards.

And the trout farm where you could actually see the fish glinting in the sun.

And the Victorian-era neolithic-inspired chalk figure carved into a hillside that I'd never even known about.

And I'd watch him; watch the way he'd close his eyes to enjoy the sun on his face; watch the way he'd work with his hands to set up a portable stove to brew us tea; watch the way he'd watch me.

And slowly we grew comfortable with one another again.

We'd sit on logs or boulders or tussocks of grass, and I'd lean in against him, enjoying the warmth of him and the sound of his voice.

And the new-found wonder of the comforting weight of his arm around me.

For the first time since Rory I felt safe to be vulnerable to a man.

I didn't need to don my fake persona because with Liam I could just be me - battered and dented with some darker patches, but still with enough joy left that it could and would shine through for him.

We kissed for the first time at dusk, leaning side-by-side against an old stone wall that fronted a rolling set of fields that looked out on the dimming western sky.

It was brief, as far as kisses go, but it promised many things, and afterwards I melted in against him, enjoying the warm and almost foreign happiness in my heart.

And that night I finally plucked up the courage to ask him to spend the night.

And felt like a sixteen-year-old fool when he said yes.

.:.

"So... um... this is my flat," I teased him, as I opened the door.

"So I see. It's very much like my flat. I wonder why that is."

"My vote is for unimaginative architect - he found a template and banged it out over and over."

Liam laughed softly.

"Pour us something to drink, will you?" I said.

I began to struggle out of my jacket and fleece; I'd left the heating on so it was reasonably warm inside. Once I'd stripped down to my faded peach tee shirt I hung my jacket behind the door, then put his back up over mine.

"There. Our jackets are spooning."

"Lucky jackets."

I slid up to him and wrapped my arms around him, breathing in the scent of him and enjoying the way his back muscles moved against my cheek.

"Better? Less jealous of the jackets now?"

"Mm. A little. Your wine," he said.

"Mm. I'll get it in a mo."

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, you know," I smiled. I loosed my arms, let him turn to face me, and then latched them closed behind his neck again as I stared up at him, head canted slightly to one side.

"What?" I said, amused by the way he stared down at me.

"It's just... you have the most beautiful eyes," he said softly.

"I know. I'm forever glad they were green. Kiss me."

He leaned in and gently did so; a full-body shudder rippled through me.

"Wow," I whispered. "Oh wow, I love your kisses. They're extra special when I get to feel you against me like this."

He slowly ran his hands up and down my back, then released his hold on me.

"Where are you going?" I whined plaintively.

"I want my bourbon," he laughed. "It was a long walk."

"Spoilsport," I pouted. "I know what's nicer than bourbon."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It involves you taking off your shirt though."

"I can do that for you," he said, as he curled his thumbs under the hem and slowly lifted.

I made a stupid little noise as I saw his bare chest for the first time.

"Oh my God," I breathed.

"What?"

"Just... just... wow, is all. Wow. You're... wow."

"Ella?"

"Let me just perve a bit in peace, will you, for fuck sakes?"

He blinked, then grinned. "Oh. Okay."

"God, you're dense sometimes."

"I told you, I'm not used..."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, impatiently waving his words away. I ran my hands slowly up and over his lean, sculpted upper arms and shoulders. "You're... fuck, you're lucky you met me when I was embarking on personal growth. A younger me would have jumped you the first time I saw you and to hell with the consequences."

That delicious eyebrow crept up.

"Well... I'm glad you met me when you did. And that... I've had time to get to know you."