A/N:

2 of 3 of the locations in this chapter are real. Can you guess?

- - -

Damn near emotional cheating, and who do you go for reprieve? Who do you need to sort out your thoughts, vomit out your feelings, and make sense of the carnage between ribcage and a pulsing throat?

Your best friend, of course.

Coincidentally in my case, was my vis à vis boyfriend for all intents and purposes.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, having stared at the cool morning turning hotter against my window sill for the part of a few hours since waking up, making coffee, and sitting on my sofa.

I couldn't even have a hangover to take my mind out of the horrifying ordeal of last night, nor have the courage to open my phone after having shut it last night when I came home.

Bucky had left call after call, message after message when I left last night. He even chased me up the street, but I was good with a whistle and have the insane luck of getting a cab every time I need one. The driver was already flooring it when I brought enough courage in my shaking hands to look up at him, and the heartbreak, the concern, the yearning and the fear in his face broke a sob out of my throat.

Grateful for it, the driver didn't say anything as I sputtered out my address.

"A mess," I murmured to myself, against the silence of my apartment. "This is a mess, Nadine."

But being locked up with my thoughts wasn't going to help anyone. Much less myself.

So I opened my phone, bracing myself.

As soon as the wallpaper flashed, I winced at every new notification came blasting one after another. A majority of it was from Bucky, a few from the others. I gave it a cursory glance, wincing at a few missed calls from Esther but grateful all the same that none of them tried to get to my place.

I needed to take everything that happened by my own pace. I was tethering on the edge of overwhelm and panic, and breaking down at eight in the morning didn't seem like the best way to start your day.

So instead I kept my phone on DND, found my bag and keys, and shoved whatever shoes I could find before leaving the apartment.

There was a bookstore on 59th street that I loved visiting on a hard day. It was six stories, boxed up and felt magical at every floor. It mostly specialized in antiques, rare and out-of-print books.

I first found the place on a first date. His surname was a little lost on me now, and so were most of what happened, but I remembered I wore a green dress, and that he kissed well, his hand pressing on my spine. He tasted of lip balm and the coffee we had hours prior. He liked non-fiction war books, a hobby he shared with his grandfather.

Nothing came out of that relationship apart from a two month situationship and a four-month realization we were better of just having a physical relationship. Last I saw from a social media post, he recently got engaged.

Now, I've made new memories of the place. A sanctum I seek out to when I needed to refresh. I roamed around, as if I didn't really know what I was going to buy or what I wanted, knowing I would always end up buying at least one book from the fashion section. I visit each floor, shot a glance outside to find a cold, quiet downpour of rain, and snorted at the ironic matching of my mood.

I leave the place two hundred or so broke, three fashion books, two novels, and one collection of poetry. Bookstores and sadness weren't a good cocktail for the wallet, but I couldn't find a piece of me to care.

I checked my phone, on the one person I could bare contact.

ROSS BEAUCHARD, 9.45 AM: 5 mins to Mal's. Traffic at Holton. Nothing fucking new. You?

NADINE LYNCH, 9.46 AM: 2 hundo down. take ur time. im gunna walk

I tested the rain under my palm. It wasn't hard enough that a hoodie wouldn't be able to help, so pulling it over my head, hugging my bag to my chest, and getting my playlist on as I trudged on.

When you're lost in the music, in the patter of rain against your hoodie, and city is too busy with too many people who have better things to do than care about another- getting to Mal's felt shorter than it had been in any other time.

Mal's is a pop and shop pizza place, small enough for a counter with four chairs and a line outside that sometimes reached the entire street. Arguably, the best pizza place if you wanted the best classic pepperoni.

I've fallen in line, gotten two boxes, and waited until a chair opened up before Ross came, brushing off the rain, scrunching his nose.

"You look good," I said, trying on a smile for the first time today.

"You don't." He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

He leaned forward to kiss my lips, but I tilted down and sideways, letting him kiss my temple. He raised an eyebrow... until my eyes started watering and he looked alarmed.

"Well... rain really isn't that hard... It's actually slowed to a sizzle. Walk and talk?"

"Yeah. That'd be best."

"Any place in mind?" he asked softly, as if I was a fragile thing prone to bursts of tears. Now that he was here, it made everything that happened even heavier, so I couldn't fault him for that.

"Remember that private little courtyard with the bench, just out of Lillie?"

"I do. Let's go. Pizza's getting cold too."

The rain quieted as last night flushed out of me. As I recalled the Bucky remembering things I liked, to bringing me to the dancing house, to everything I felt and desired that night.

And Ross listened to it all. He made brief comments and acknowledgements at the start, but after the dancing, he got quieter and quieter.

Pizzas gone, boxes tossed, and now we were in front of the Met.

I was vulnerable in our stewing silence, like my chest has been opened, my ribcage has bent down, and my heart, pulsing and beating and alive, is in front of us.

And it felt freeing.

A minute of staring at tourists visiting the Ruskinian Gothic building like schools of fishes coming in and out before I shouldered Ross.

"Say something," I whispered.

"What do you want me to say?"

I winced at the flat, deadpan tone, my eyes immediately watering again. I brushed them away fast. I didn't want to look pitiful when it was my fault. I may not have kissed Bucky, but I wanted to. I almost did.

"Anything off your chest," I said. "You can tell me. I can take it."

"Masochist, now?" He laughed, turning to me with a playful grin. "Nah. I just really love when my girlfriend tells me she almost kissed the possible love of her life."

I frowned. God, I don't know why I couldn't stop crying.

"Hey, hey, I'm kidding, come on, pretty girl." He cupped my face and brushed my tears with his thumbs. He was grinning like a cat that ate the cream. "Since you were honest with me, I'm going to be honest with you. I didn't accept becoming your boyfriend for the full reasons that you were proposing."

The sound that tore through my throat was despair. "What does that even mean?"

"I mean, I said yes knowing that one way or another- betting really - that you were going to realize what you felt and truly wanted. You were scared. You're still scared now. But now that you've said something, it'll be easier. That you're ready."

I took his hands away, frowning. "Why the fuck are you being so riddle-y?"

"I just mean... I knew you were going to fall in love with him." The smugness in his smile bent to a softness. A sweetness. "You already were. But you were afraid, and you needed a port to come back to when you tested the waters of your feelings. To be honest, I was betting on you two boning. I'm kind of surprised it's kissing. That's tame."

I slapped his arm. "Ross! I wouldn't do that to you! I wouldn't have cheated... not really."

"Our relationship wasn't real, I'm sure you've felt it." He rubbed my hands comfortably. "You were settling because you were afraid, and I was prepared to be your anchor because I wanted it to be your choice." He arched an eyebrow, lips pouting. "But I was also prepared to do everything in my ability to make you realize what you were doing and how stupid it was. You deserve to love, Nadine. Purely and truly, and yes, it's terrifying and it's chance all over again to trust, but you deserved to find love that's not just safe. That is love in its sole meaning."

I couldn't stop the tears anymore, a sob escaped and I burrowed myself on his chest. He was laughing, the ass, but I felt my relief echo against his.

"You know what to do now?" he murmured against my hair.

"I do." I bit my lip, nibbling on the skin. "Do you think we could have worked? If we fell in love instead?"

"I don't have to think about it." Ross' smile felt infinite and I didn't have to see it to know. As he tucked my flayaway hair behind my ear, safe in this cocoon that he and I built, the dread of leaving it builds. The fear of taking a step outside where nothing is sure, where everything could hurt exists. "I do love you."

I looked up, my fingers stilling. "You know what I mean."

There's an indescribably look on his face, like he knew the solution to a puzzle but wasn't sure how to approach the answer.

"I think... we could have. We would have been good at it too. Loving each other would have been easy as breathing. Not a lot of complications." He smiled, repeating, "We could have been good at it."

The 'but' lingers. It lies twisted on a rope just at the edge of his tongue and my thought. The look we shared is an understanding. A book closing.

We could regale our what ifs, we could paint the picture and write the chapters until we finish the end and mark it with a happy ever after. The ghost of it exists, only needing a step to take a bloom.

But we know better. I have to be stronger.

And I was already letting him go.

So I copied his smile and his widened. It was beautiful and familiar, the warm balm of knowing each other exists is still there. Ross was my soulmate, and we didn't need to be romantic to know that. To have that.

"I do love you, you know?" I said instead, pressing my fingers against his. Wanting him to know every word I don't know how to say. Every word that couldn't be translated between thought and tongue.

"I know. I also know that whatever you have with Bucky is going to be exhilarating."

I took a deep breath. "How are you so sure?"

"Because it scares you."

I groaned, forehead hitting my knee. "That's such a red flag answer."

"You know what I mean. People like us who know the taste of burn are scared of what could heal us. A damaged child will consider the fire to be soothing if it's been burned enough times. The idea of healing is scary because it's new." At my incredulous raised eyebrow and twitching lip, Ross guffawed. He elbowed me playfully. "You know what I mean. See where it goes. Take the chance."

"Leap of fucking faith, huh?"

He smirked. "Leap of fucking faith, yeah."

"I hate when you're right."

"It's what soulmates do, darling. And if he breaks your heart, I can break his spine." He smirked. "But... If I am allowed to bet on it again, I'm pretty confident in my choice. And I am a betting man."