"Hey, Olivia? Can I talk to you about somethin'?"
Livvi looked up from her spot on the sofa where she'd been aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Teddy was standing at the other end of the couch, and it was plain to see that he looked a little anxious. His shoulders were tucked in, he was wringing his hands, and he'd called her Olivia.
Not that there was anything wrong with that—it was her name, after all. But after a while of convincing him she was okay with it, he'd started calling her by a few nicknames, chiefly "Livvi." To hear her full name now felt foreign, felt...kind of like when her mum used to call her by her full name when she'd done something wrong.
The anxiety he was exuding was contagious, it seemed, because she felt the tell-tale twisting and pinching deep in her gut as she looked up at him.
"Of course you can," she said, concentrating on keeping her voice level, doing her best to appear nonchalant. At her words he sat down on the other end of the sofa, and she pulled her legs up underneath herself and sat up straighter. The pause was getting to her. "Is something wrong...?"
"Well...no. Maybe? I don't rightly know, so I figured I'd just ask you about it," he said, and this did nothing to quell the anxiety rising in her chest, making her feel like she was suffocating.
Livvi didn't interject this time. She simply nodded a short little nod, still looking up at him, still waiting.
"Listen," he began, sighing and rubbing a hand to the back of his neck. "If there's somethin' wrong with your room or the house, you can just let me know, okay? I'd be happy to trade rooms with you, or give you a little more space." Teddy chuckled just a little bit, though his tone betrayed the slight joke he was about to tell, as if there were some truth to the words. "Heck, if it's privacy you want I can move my bed out to that shed out by the barn."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, eyebrows knit together in slight confusion.
"Well, I...I didn't want to pry, but I saw your laptop open on the coffee table the other day and I couldn't help but notice that it was open to a...uh. One of those apartment-searchin' websites."
The words hung heavily in the air as Livvi started to realize what Teddy was talking about. With the pause he left that she didn't take, he continued, picking his words carefully.
"I tried to let it be but I kept thinkin' about it. So I figured I'd just ask you if somethin' was wrong with the place that'd make you wanna move out, because I'm more than happy to change some stuff around if that's what you need," Teddy said before he looked down and away from her.
The next words he mumbled a bit under his breath, but she could hear them only too clearly: "I just don't wanna drive even more people away from me."
Those words were like a sharp knife cutting through the tendons of her confusion. In a moment it all made sense: he thinks she's abandoning him and he's blaming himself. Olivia remembered Teddy telling her about his parents, and about how they left him on this very farm nearly twenty years ago. She remembered him telling her how much he felt like it was his fault.
She's angry when the tears come to her eyes, but she can't stop them. She can't stop them as they bubble up and spill over her eyelashes, retaining walls too short to staunch the oncoming flood. Livvi wipes at her eyes but it's futile as more tears spring to take the place of the ones swept away.
"Fuck," she breathes, almost in exasperation, but not at him, not at anyone other than herself. "Teddy, please, don't...i-it's not like that, I just..."
Her reaction has startled him a little—rightfully so, probably. And in the pause she left that he didn't take, she continued, but her words were not chosen with care. They spilled out of her like a dam that had finally broken, the walls she'd constructed to carefully guard her feelings crumbling like a house of cards.
"Everything here has been perfect," she said, her voice wavering with the sobs that were forming and catching in her throat before they could escape. "You've done nothing wrong at all. I'm the one who's been so damned selfish..."
"What do you mean, Livvi...?"
His voice was soft, but the concern felt sharp like a second knife—not by his intention, but by the merit of the guilt and anxiety gnawing at Olivia's ribcage. It hurt her like the way a papercut hurt: it was an accident, something that wasn't meant to happen, but it stung and burned nonetheless.
"I've been nothing but selfish," she said, growing more and more aggravated with the tears that were spilling down her cheeks. She knows how manipulative this looks, especially given the words that were resting on the tip of her tongue, and she doesn't want it to look like this.
But she can't help it. She can't help it, she can't help it she can't help it—
"Only someone selfish would fall in love with their friend who they know isn't interested, and instead of doing things to try and stop those feelings from happening they just allow them to continue which just makes everything hurt worse," she gasped, stumbling over her words. "I wasn't looking at apartments because you'd pushed me away, Teddy. I was doing it because I've fallen in love with you and I don't want to ruin this friendship—"
She had been rambling and ranting, regurgitating the words because she couldn't hold them in anymore, but she stopped mid-sentence and fell silent, staring off to the left side of Teddy because she couldn't stomach the thought of looking at him and seeing what she would assumed would be anger or disgust on his face.
But when she finally dared glanced over after what felt like an eon, his expression was entirely unreadable.
"I don't want to ruin this friendship more than I just have," she finished her sentence with a feeble and meek tone, the tears welling up in her eyes again.
The seconds stretched out into millennia as she studied him, waiting for a response. When no words came from him, her own voice surprised her when she spoke again.
"If you're mad you can tell me," she said, her voice as small as she felt right now. "Just...please, Teddy, say something...anything—"
Before Livvi can register what's happening she feels arms around her. Instinctively she burrows into the embrace, pressing her face into Teddy's chest as a new wave of tears hit her.
There's a distinct relief breaking through the pain and anxiety that'd calcified in her chest. Each chip of metaphorical detritus that was removed made her feel better yet entirely vulnerable at the same time—that had been her armor, and it was protecting her raw and sensitive heart that she'd now placed directly on her sleeve.
She doesn't even realize she's muttering apologies between her sobs, speaking the words directly to his chest as if it would give them a fast track to his heart. It's only when he starts to rub her back and shush her (in a caring way, not patronizing) that she realizes she'd been apologizing repeatedly like it was a mantra.
"I'm not mad at you," he said softly, once she'd quieted down. "And you didn't ruin anything, Livvi. We've got some things to talk about, of course, but nothing's ruined."
"Teddy, I—"
"You don't have to keep apologizin', either, Livvi Loo." The nickname both made more tears prickle in her eyes and blanketed her in an incredibly warm feeling. "I forgive you, even though there's nothin' you really need to say sorry for. I should be sayin' sorry for spookin' you like that, but—that's not the point right now. I'm gonna go get you some tissues and a cool washcloth for your face and when you've calmed down...we can go from there, okay?"
All she can do is nod into his shoulder. Gently Teddy pries himself away from her to get the aforementioned tissues and washcloth, but by the time he returns to the sofa moments later, Livvi's curled up asleep where he'd left her.
She wakes just a bit when she feels him gingerly sit down next to her again, pulling a blanket up and over them both. Once he's settled in she stirs just to nestle back against him, the outburst of moments ago lost to her in her slumber.
What's not lost to her in that moment, however, is the slight rumbling from Teddy's chest as he speaks, his hand smoothing over her hair and making sure none of it was being pinched between them. "I'm sorry too, Livvi...I'm sorry, too."
But sleep overtakes her fully before she can do anything about his apology. When she wakes hours later, groggy and with a dry mouth, the words are as forgotten to her as the fitful dreams she had when she slept.