Coming Home

"You look tired. Bad night?" My lips twitch upward. Ben only smiling apathetically. "Presley?" And right. To have a conversation you're supposed to talk back. Right.

"M'fine. Stayed up watching bad reruns."

Ben sighed. Ben always sighs when he thinks I'm getting bad. Ben has been sighing a lot, lately. "That's not...it's not normal Presley."

"Neither is your sudden desire for a coke every morning." Ben couldn't reply. The bell dinged, forcing him to stand behind the register, as I pretended to look busy.

I do that a lot. Like, pretending I don't care how happy Harry looks. That it doesn't feel like complete shit it to know Harry moved on, when Harry's the one who fucked it all up.

Who fucked me up. Who made me waste an entire year of my life.

"Presley can you come with me," Ben stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the customer, so that all I could see was hair. Long brown--with a slight wave--hair. I looked up confused. "Just come." He muttered.

I didn't get a chance to agree as Ben captured my wrist and proceeded to lead me as though we were being chased. He turned with crazy eyes, lips in a tight line.

"What?" I asked.

I was suddenly afraid. It all felt too familiar. Ben sighed. "Don't freak out, but Eleanor's here."

"Eleanor..?" My voice trailed off. It was only Tuesday. Everything bad isn't supposed to happen until Sunday. "Eleanor as in Louis' Eleanor?"

Ben's nod made me realize how unlucky I am, how horrible a day can go with just one piece of information. "Yeah and she already saw you..."

"I'm fucked."

"Basically," Ben agreed patting my back. Ben knew they weren't supposed to be back for another month. Ben knew because I had made it my priority to book my plane ticket a week in advance before their arival. "No one would blame you if you escaped through the back."

"You know I can't," I muttered. I knew I couldn't. Not when Eleanor would undoubtedly tell Louis, because they were that couple. They were those people. "Okay, this is fine. I'm fine."

"Presley," Ben started. I looked up at him.

"I was bound to run into her sometime." Considering the fact that I had the sheer luck of working at her favorite cafe. And my only friend bought said caffe, and refuses to hire anyone else, forcing me to work because that's what friends do. "I'll make her drink and you get the paramedics ready, incase I have an episode." I was merely joking. But Ben didn't find it amusing.

Of course he wouldn't.

"That's not funny," he mumbled turning off the lights and walking out.

When your scared your heart beats faster and you start to sweat. When I'm afraid, I just hope that whatever the cause is, will kill me fast and organized.

Ben said something about a small latte. Ben also said I wasn't funny. Ben doesn't know much, really.

This shouldn't be as hard as my mind is making it out to be. I've done this a hundred times, at least. My mind doesn't seem to remember that though, as my chest tightens and my heart palpitates.

With the warm cup in my hand I walk over to the counter ready to hand it silently, when warm brown eyes meet mine, and it becomes too late to pretend I didn't see her.

"Presely," her voice is soft and light. "I wasn't sure that was you." She admits. Her smile is just like I remember it.

Kind.

"It's good to see you El," I forgot what it was like speaking to someone besides Ben. Someone who reminds me of the past year. "You look good." And she did, in her tight fitted jeans, and breezy blouse.

"How are you?" I also forgot how pretty her accent was. Maybe if I had her accent I wouldn't sound so sad all the time.

"I'm okay," and oddly enough, I am okay. Some days are harder than others, but I'm okay. "Taking it day by day. I didn't know you were back."

"Yeah. Something unexpected came up and well, we're home." Her tone was questioning, like she almost didn't believe herself.

I know Eleanor and I haven't spoken in long time, but That doesn't mean I don't remember the way her voice sounded when she lied or the way her eyes widen, and her blinking becomes rapid.

"Okay," I dismiss. It's not my place to question her anymore. "Well it was nice to see you. I hope you come around." It went well, I think.

I turn around, getting ready to walk away when Eleanor speaks softly. "I--we miss you." My mouth parts. "I know I don't have any right, and I know it's been years, but we miss you." And maybe I will need an ambulance, because I don't know what Eleanor means when she says we.

We could be anyone.

"I...okay. Um. I don't--I, I miss you too." And I have. I know I have. But it's not something I like to remember.

"We heard about your brother," Eleanor's voice is low, with a melancholy tone. I've never liked it when she sounded like that, because Eleanor's accent is too pretty to sound like that. "I'm s-"

"It's fine," I rush out, turning back around. The worst part of your brother suddenly dying is the way people think they can comfort you when they apologize. "Thank you." Eleanor smiles and sips her drink.

When looking at El becomes too much (because recently everything has become too much) her hand reaches out and lays on top of mine, like she knows it's become rigid and awkward, and her hand is somehow supposed to soothe me. "He misses you," and I know who she's talking about, and I'm beyond grateful she didn't say his name. I don't think I'm ready for that.

"How is he?" I ask hesitant.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Honestly, no. Not unless her words are 'he's a mess' I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear how he's okay, and happy, because that's not fair.

Completely and utterly unfair.

So I shake my head, and shrug.

From the corner of my eye I can see Ben looking at us over his shoulder, a wary look plastered on his face, as he makes an iced tea and starts a new pot of coffee.

"I know this is a long shot, and I know we shouldn't expect anything from you," she breaths out quickly, "I was hoping you'd come over for dinner tomorrow? It doesn't have to be dinner. It can be breakfast or lunch. Or maybe we can have all three or we'll just eat snacks. Whatever--whatever's best for you."

"I don't know," because recently I don't know much and I'm weak. "I don't think it's a good idea. M'sorry." I really am. I'm just not a good person. Not good enough to give in to Eleanor's simple request.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry," Eleanor gushes out and gathers her things. She looks up, her eyes clouded with disappointment. "I'll see you soon?" She asks, voice hesitant and small. Almost like she was afraid of my answer.

I wouldn't blame her. I'm very flighty, I've realized. I've also realized it wasn't until she walked through the doors that I let myself remember they exist.

I'm a terrible person. I really am.

"Okay." It's a small promise. It's the only thing I'm capable of promising, even if it doesn't really sound like a promise. She smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She bops her head once at Ben, as she walks out silently.

And there are two things I'm sure of.

One: My name is Presley Jude Summers and my only friend is Ben Mathews.

Two: I hate Tuesdays.

****
"That was rough," Ben empathizes, "I'm surprised you didn't have a conniption or something."

That makes two of us, really. Ben untied his apron and hangs it next to mine.

"I'm surprised I went the whole day without slapping you. You're very annoying."

Ben laughs, his most genuine laugh and shoves me gently. "You are so lucky I love you. Swear no one else would put up with you."

"That's not true. Many people think I'm wonderful."

"Yeah cause they don't have to put up with your sad ass all day. S'exhausting." Things with Ben are easy. It's nice, because Ben likes me, and he won't leave. At least I hope he won't. "How are you? El didn't give you any sudden urges did she?"

"Urges?" I ask confused and a tiny bit amused.

"Yeah, like you don't want to go fuck someone or drink until you can't breathe do you?"

"Not recently, no." Ben nods proudly and slings his arm over my shoulders. As we start the small walk to our apartment. The cold hitting me in all the wrong places, various people walking by, white plastic cups in between their gloved hands.

"Good. Now are you sure you don't want to go to dinner? I'm sure Louis would love to see you. I know you two didn't end on go-"

"Ben, Louis and I didn't end anything, there was nothing to end. He picked a side, left without a goodbye. That's it, I understand. Harry's his friend. I'm not mad. I don't hold anything against him." This was the first time I've said this out loud. This was the first time I realized it was true.

"Well I think you should come with me." Ben shrugs.

"Your going?" I knew they were his friends too. I just didn't see him and Eleanor speak. Of course, after Eleanor had said goodbye, my mind blanked and I'm pretty sure an hour passed, because all I remember is sitting down, with a cup in my hand.

I'm not surprised Ben was invited. He was friends with them. Worked with them for years. That was how we met. Ben had been part of their crew while Harry and I were together. After he was fired and Harry fucked up (conveniently on the same day) we became friends. Ben buying the caffe from it's elderly owner, fixing it up, and then making me his charity case, until I became some what human again.

It took a few months (seven), enough tears to fill the Grand Canyon (from both of us), and countless silent days where Ben would sit with me, knowing all I needed was him to be there. Just him and maybe a few cups of tea.

It was simple. A bit convenient. But simple all the same.

"Yes..." Ben sounds apologetic and I hate it. I hate knowing I made feel like he needed to pick sides, when in fact there were no sides to choose from.

"It's fine Ben. Go have fun, I'll be fine."

"I don't want to go without you though." He whines as he gets the keys out. He opens the door and breathes out. "Can you think about it?"

No.

"Okay." Ben's smile is nice. Ben's nice and Ben's my friend. "I just. Ben, what if Harry's there...what if he's there with her?" I feel like a teenage, scorn, lovesick high schooler. I do give myself points, because I deleted Harrys number a long time ago (even if his tweets still get sent directly to my phone) it's still something, even when you accidentally click on a link, describing his new girlfriend, that's how you're bound to learn things.

Like, that she's insanely pretty, and she's most likely everything I wasn't.

"Don't fret on that. That's beneath you." Ben pats the seat next to him with a sigh. As soon as I'm sitting next to him, his arm is around me, and I'm nuzzling into his side. "You can hold my hand if they're there, okay? You can squeeze it as hard as you want."

"I'll think about it." It will most likely end up being the only thing I can think about.

"Are you ever going to tell me your weird, heartbreak story?" Ben asks unexpectedly.

"Our what?" I ask confused.

Harry and I don't have a story. We have what I like to call a bad break up song kind of thing, where it ends just how it started.

Depressing.

"How you and Harry met? What happened? Why you refuse to talk about last year, or say what you did." Ben's eyes are shinning curiously, and even though I've told Ben everything.

And I mean everything.

When it came to Harry, I don't think I'd be able to tell anyone. Not because I care if they believe me or not.

But because it's embarrassing and well...they won't believe me.

Not that I care if they did or not. I just knew they wouldn't.

"Nothing happened. It was just a bad break up."

"You'd think you'd trust me after everything." Ben mumbled in a low voice.

I know he's trying, not to let his hurt shine through, but it's practically blinding.

"I do trust you Ben." I try.

"Then prove it." He shrugged, leaning back against his chair. He looks oddly like a dealer or an angry mother that knows what you did wrong.

"I'll tell you if you'll tell me why you and Eleanor don't speak anymore?"

His eyes bug out and he almost falls forward. Possibly not a win-win for him. "What?"

"Don't give me that," I scold, leaning forward. "Its only fair, Ben. I know there's more than you both drifting apart." it's actually quite obvious, to anyone besides Ben apparently. "I also know Eleanor hurt you in someway. I'm quiet. Not blind."

"Presley-"

"Don't worry," I say holding my hands up like a criminal. "But Its only fair."

"Presley, it's different. Whatever happened to you, obviously traumatized you. What happened to me was just life being stupid." I tilt my head not really believing what he was saying.

"Well, fuck, of course it's different. Doesn't mean it matters less, don't you think?"

He folds his arms over his chest glaring weakly at me. I know first hand when Ben is frustrated and right now, Ben is...well, frustrated.

"It's not that simple. My situation happened before I met you, before you even showed up. It's not that important if I can get through life normally. You on the other hand, you're a mess and I just want to know why."

I nod once. Ben makes a very good point. I am a mess. Sometimes I'll sit and wonder when Ben will get tired and leave. Because he will. I can feel it.

"I'd still like to know. Sometimes you have to take the jump and hope someone will catch you, or at least be there to help you up." I not sure if that saying applies here, but it does sound fitting.

"Inspiring, but not fully convincing. Sorry bun." And he doesn't look sorry at all.
Bastard.

"Ben" I sigh, "what if, maybe... Whatever happened to you and Eleanor is fixable? What if you're just settling with how things are now? Then what?" Ben drops his gaze. He looks uncomfortable, and completely out of his element. "You'll both be idiots. That's what." He glares at me and snorts.

"Well at least she won't magically disappear."

Oh.

"Harry didn't magically disappear," defending Harry is still second nature. Still something I feel I owe him.

"He-- that doesn't matter okay? I was just trying to help." I croak.

"I know," Ben mumbles, eyes down. "I'm sorry Presley. That was a dick thing to say. Eleanor is a touchy subject and I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm sorry." His hand lands on top of mine, thumbing gliding over my knuckles.

"Don't worry about it," I say. He has every right to say that. It was my fault for pushing.

"I'm worried about you, actually."

"Always a mother aren't ya?"

"I do try," he says with an easy smile. "I really hope you'll come with me tomorrow." That's the last thing Ben says before he gets up and walks into his room. Leaving me and my stupid thoughts.

Stupid, stupid thoughts.

Notes

And we're off