I also realized,” she cuts him off, stepping further into his room, “That I know almost everything there is to know about you. I know your favorite color, favorite food. I know that you love it when it rains because it reminds you of your mom and that you like winter better than summer and that in your top nightstand drawer you keep a picture of Lindsay and Claire because you want that but you’re so damn stubborn you won’t admit it,” Chloe smiles sadly towards him, watches him watching her with a blank expression she’s become to used to over the years. “I know all of that about you, and you know nothing about me--”
“It’s not by choice,” he says angrily, taking one, single step closer to her. “I’ve been waiting here for five damn years for you to open up to me Chloe and you wouldn’t do it. I’ve always been here, always been waiting, and all I ever got in return was nothing.”
Lex was right. So incredibly right and it makes her feel awful. Cheap, and she knows she has no one to blame for this mess around her but herself. Chloe has been having this conversation over and over in her head for days, weeks almost and whatever she had imagined-- whatever scenario she had thought up-- it hadn’t gone like this. The situation had never gotten this far out of her control.
But it was now. Was spiraling away from her and she had to do something.
Anything. She started speaking so suddenly and rapidly that she even surprised herself.
“I hate the left side of the bed,” she begins when he went to say something further, cutting him off completely. He looks surprised and confused and she ignores it. “I hate it and I never tell you because I always thought it was trivial, and stupid-- but I still hate it. I hate that some mornings the first think you do is pour yourself a glass of scotch and then turn and nag to me about my smoking. I like summer, not winter. I hate the rain, and I really, really hate Lois some days because she has everything I’ve ever wanted-- the chance to have everything I’ve ever wanted-- and she was so quick to want to throw it away. And I really, really don’t like the way I am when I’m not with you,” Chloe lets out a breath she realized she hadn’t been holding in and tries her very best to not let the tears threatening to fall spill over.
She hates crying. Has done it so much in the past few months that she honestly doesn’t think she has any tears left. And she is so tired, so tired of pretending. Pretending to be alright, pretending that she doesn’t love Lex. Tired of lying to herself when she manages to convince herself that San Francisco was even an option. Because it wasn’t, she knew it all along, she was only just now acknowledging it.
Better late than never, she thinks again like she had months earlier, but still knows it may not be enough. Not for him.
“I hate it, Lex,” Chloe says tearfully, “I hate needing you the way I do. And I’ve tried not to, tried to push you away, but I’m still here. I still came back and that’s got to mean something, right? I mean, it has to. It has to, Lex, because I just can’t do this anymore.”
Lex look just as exhausted as she felt, looked tired, and worn, and used and Chloe realizes she knows those feelings too well. He shuffles his feet, rocks back and forth on his heels, avoids her eyes.
“And I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry-- and I never say that and actually mean it,” she pauses and laughs ruefully, “Because I am hardly ever sorry about anything. But I am, Lex,” Chloe chokes on his name, her throat suddenly dry, eyes burning. “I am sorry, you have to know that.”
When he finally does meet her eyes, when he takes the few steps between them and bounds over to her, she knows. Knows that this is what it is suppose to feel like. This is what she had felt all along and it is okay. She recognizes it. This is love, and it isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t perfect but it is her. And it is Lex. And for now, for right that moment it was enough.
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