A long time had passed around Rob. Maybe an hour, maybe a few. It was hard to tell. 

He had existed in an odd median between asleep and awake on the park bench, occasionally looking through his sunglasses, seeing people passing by, giving slight stares as they walked across in front of him.

Shaking himself, he slipped his phone out of his pocket, ready to face the reality:

[i]Please Come Back[/i].

Rob gave a slight grimace at the response.

He knew he had hurt Jane by leaving. But it was for the best. If he had stayed, he wasn’t sure how to react. Embracing a person who had embraced another—even in some slight, meaningless way. Perhaps he was being much too demanding of her. Not recognizing the strength it must have taken to deny Lena. The little concessions she (and him) had made to be with each other. 

It was so odd, being so accountable to another person. The very same communication he was demanding from Jane was also demanding upon himself—to allow someone else to enter his own head, understand who he was on his most visceral level.

It was time to face facts.

…

He returned to the room soon after, finding Jane asleep in the bed. The way she was positioned was not the same as when he left her. [i]Had she gotten up? Had she been away to see someone?[/i]

Thoughts such as those reminded him of his own weaknesses. Images of Zoe plagued his mind, and he decided that whatever Jane had done or whoever she had seen, was of little importance.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Entering into a relationship with a best friend was supposed to be so much simpler. And yet Rob had never experienced a relationship that demanded so much of him as Jane did. Perhaps it was easier to mess things up with a stranger than someone you care so much about.

Rob decided to wait in the kitchen, not wanting yet another bedside confrontation. So much of their time had been spent with each other, each morning and night, only to awaken the other to discuss some hard or sad news. 

Not anymore.

Rob made some coffee for himself and Jane, taking a cupful and leaving the rest on the warmer. He pulled out his phone, googling the band’s name. Hoping for some vapid reactions to clear his head.

After reading the daily tabloids and blogs on what they had been doing, he tossed the phone to the couch, drinking his coffee in the relative silence. Without the digital connection, he lost track of the time that past. It might have been minutes or hours, but either way Rob waited, until Jane emerged from the room.

“Sorry,” he had said. “I was going to get in bed, but…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to keep talking about stuff like this in bed.”

He took another sip of coffee. “I left this morning because I got freaked out. I’m not used to dealing with this stuff with another person. Usually…with other relationships, it’s so much simpler. Because I don’t mind if I end that relationship. But I just don’t want to fuck up [i]so bad[/i] I end up fucking up regardless.”

He tried to laugh to himself. “But I’m not mad at you. I guess I just don’t trust myself enough to respond the right way without prior thought. That’s why it’s easy for me to talk with Vicarious, I guess. If I fuck up with them, no harm done. But if I fuck up with you…?”

Rob looked down to the floor. “Well, I don’t want to fuck that up.”

He scratched his elbow and thought for a moment, then: “Maybe we all want to run away from our feelings.”

So he elected to stay, wait, and listen.