Finishing up with Daniel, my head is still spinning. The power he has over me, the things he makes me feel ... It's as if I'm falling for him. Falling. And not into a pit of despair. What the hell is wrong with me?

After making a quick stop at my apartment to shower, I make it over to Remy's place much later than I planned. A part of me hates myself for not getting over here sooner, but it felt so much better to drown the emotions than feel them. I already know he's doing the exact same thing.

It's a bad day for him. It's a bad day for both of us.

I walk inside to hear Get Ur Freak On playing loudly throughout the apartment. Remy is dancing in the living room near the coffee table shirtless, his hips swaying inside his old pair of gray, Northeastern University sweatpants. He's actually a good dancer.

... When he's sober.

"Remy," I call to him.

He turns and displays a wide, squinty-eyed smile. "Mags!" He holds a glass of bourbon, the small amount sloshing inside it as he continues his dance. "Baby, you were right," he slowly slurs. "Misses Elliott is so good!"

Baby? "It's Missy Elliott, dumbass. How much have you been drinking?" I glance over and find the evidence still sitting atop the coffee table, more in the kitchen along the counter and in the sink. He's been going for a while.

I sigh with my disappointment. It's hard to be mad at him for anything, but especially hard on this day. I walk over and take the glass from his hand to keep him from spilling it onto his expensive rug.

He laughs he continues to thrust his hips, his ridiculous body looking a bit leaner than usual. Has he been eating? "Dance with me, Maggie," he slurs.

"Remy, you're really drunk."

"Dance with me!"

"I'd rather not." He grumbles rather than speaking and wraps his arm around my waist. He grabs my leg and lifts me from the ground. "Remy!" I wrap my arms around his shoulders to support myself, only a little afraid he'll trip and kill me when his huge frame comes crashing down. "Please, please don't drop me. Or fall on me."

"Shh ..." He sways us back and forth, bobbing with the beat. I drape my arms over his shoulders and give into the fact that, even while drunk, he's still an unstoppable brick wall.

The chorus ends and he chuckles to himself. I feel us start to fall and let out a shriek. My back lands gently against the couch cushions, and Remy lies on top of me, his arms wrapped around me. I sigh and hug him back as he hums with the music and nuzzles his cheek against mine. He presses a kiss against my cheek, my jaw ... and then my neck. I still when he runs his tongue along my skin before he nips it with his lips again.

"Remy," I scold him. He does this sometimes when he drinks too much, but I know he'd never take it further. He's way too drunk to get it up anyway -- a fact I easily confirm when he grinds his hips against mine. "Remy, seriously." I run my hands over his head, soothing him before I say, "You need to stop drinking. We have somewhere to be in the morning, remember?"

He hums against my neck but leans away. "I'm just tryin' to have fun."

"Are you? Or are you trying to forget what day it is?" I feel his muscles tense beneath my palms but relax soon after. He is the only person in the world that feels worse on this day than I do. "I miss her too."

His head buries back into my neck and his arms tighten around my waist like a hug. We lie there for a moment, the music fading out into the next song, and I feel his breathing start to quiver slightly when he inhales. Part of me is jealous I can't cry, another part wishes I could just to give him some company.

After a while, he relaxes in my arms, but it puts more weight on me. "Remy." My voice suppressed by the lack of space allowed to my lungs. "You're heavy."

"Sorry!" He leans up and moves to sit properly on the couch next to me. He runs his hands over his face and sighs.

"You gonna be okay?" I ask him. He nods, but his face twists suddenly. I know that look.

He stands and runs for the master suite. I follow him, making sure he doesn't fall, or worse, doesn't make it in time. He makes it, falling face first towards the toilet as he empties the contents of his stomach.

Dammit, Remy. I crouch behind him and stroke my hands up and down his back, feeling the sweat starting to accumulate on his skin as he shakes.

After a while, he sighs and wipes his mouth. He flushes and moves to lean against the side of the vanity, propping his knees up and burying his head in the crooks of his arms. I sit next to him and lean my cheek onto his shoulder.

"It's Z's birthday today," I prompt him. A deep, shaking breath is his only response. The loss still hurts, but it doesn't affect me differently on milestones or anniversaries. The pain comes when it wants, and I have no control over it. I don't know which version is worse. "You don't seem to be handling it so well."

"I miss her. So fucking much," he says in a broken voice. He leans up and wipes his palms over his eyes. Remy only cries when he's so drunk he won't remember it the next day. "I know she's gone, but ..." he trails off, taking a slow breath in through his parted lips. He continues to stare ahead rather than looking my direction. "I still think about how things would be ... if she was still here. If she would have just let me ..." he trails off and covers his face again.

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. She did what she wanted. Remembering all the ways he could have saved her or changed her mind only serve to torture him now. My chest aches, but I cling to my numbness.

"Sometimes ..." Remy sniffles, "I'm afraid I'll never love someone like that again."

They seemed like such an odd couple with the differences in their ages and backgrounds. She was so much older than him, but just as broken. He did everything for her, always. Whether he let her consume him or not, they helped each other heal. 

She was cruel to him towards the end -- breaking up with him when she knew he was in deep, stringing him along for years with a "maybe". Ultimately, I think she didn't want to be with him because she didn't want to get better. She just wanted it all to stop. 

But I can't say any of that to him. 

I rub my hand over his arm in encouragement. "Still being in love with her doesn't mean you'll never be able to love someone else."

He sighs and says, "Every time I meet someone ... someone that understands me ... I think, 'maybe this is it'. Maybe she'll be the one that will let me finally ... feel something for someone other than her."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "It will happen. One of these days."

"I don't know." He shrugs. "I really don't think so."

I sit with him on the cold floor, letting him wallow in the feelings he will pretend never existed when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He doesn't deserve to feel this way, but I don't know how to help him other than give his misery company.

"You should go sleep this off," I say after a while. "Unless you're planning on letting me drive the beemer tomorrow." I watch his mouth twist into something resembling a grin.

"I'll go to bed."

"Good."

I move and pretend to help him get up. He stands with a wobble and makes his way back into his bedroom. He climbs under the covers and settles onto his pillow. I fill a glass with water. When I bring it to him, I find he's already passed out cold. I set the glass down, climb over him carefully, and get under the covers as well.

Even in his sleep, his brow is furrowed with sadness. It breaks my heart to see him like this, but it happens every year on her birthday, their old anniversary, and the day she died. Five years had healed nothing for him. There's a good chance another five wouldn't either.

And as fucked up as it is, I realize that's what I want; the kind of love that makes me someone's greatest weakness, even after I'm gone.

♡♡♡

I don't like therapy. It's stupid and it sucks.

Remy slept in a little too long and had to drive a normal speed all the way here. That made me happy. We had to come early because he had a session before mine. I spent the hour touching the muscles through my clothes and skin like a weirdo and comparing it to my lab manual.

I had this memorization shit down, thanks very much to Mr. Won't Fuck Me, soon to be Dr. Won't Fuck Me. He teaches me everything I need to know for classes, and Remy tends to my more basic human needs like my sanity and income. It's funny how much I get from the people who don't want in my pants.

That thought makes me miss Daniel. Everything makes me miss Daniel. I get what I need and want from him, too. Right now, I want him to pin me down and tell me how pretty I am and spank my ass until it's stinging and red. I want him to spread my legs wide and shove his perfect cock into me while his hands --

"Would you like an appointment next month as well?" Dr. Richards asks as she and Remy walk out of the office. Bad timing, shitheads. "Or should we stick to the current schedule?"

"Current is fine," he answers in a professional tone. It's not fair that I have to go every month but he only has to go every three. He looks better, the easy smile back on his face. I guess she did her job or whatever, but Remy swears by her already.

"Ready, Maggie?"

No. "Sure."

I follow her into the room and we get comfortable. I kick off my sandals and cross my legs up onto the couch. Might as well be comfortable while she comes at me with her bullshit.

"Before you ask," I say before she has the chance to speak. "I'm doing great. My sex life is stable and nearly monogamous right now. I have been taking note of my feelings, and they're definitely not like Remy's are right now."

She nods. "Well, all of that sounds positive."

"Probably because it is."

"I find it interesting that you said 'like Remy's'," she starts. "Why do you feel the need to compare your emotional reactions to his?"

This bitch. "Because he's the only other person that misses Z like I do."

"You think no one else feels emotion when they remember your sister?"

I glare at her. "Not the way we do."

She nods and scribbles down a quick note. "I think it's best if we discuss your physical encounters today in reference to your emotional state."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because physical intimacy is intimate because it has feeling associated with it." I seriously hate her. She looks down at her notes. "You mentioned being nearly monogamous. Who have you been spending most of your time with?"

"Daniel and Deven." 

"Tell me about them." Shit. 

"Um ... Well ... I have lots of sex with Daniel and none with Deven."

She nods slowly. "So, this Daniel. How would you describe him?"

"Amazing."

She smiles. "When you spend time with him, what exactly do you do?"

"Well, when I go see him he usually lays me on my back or my stomach and inserts his penis into my vagina, mouth, or anus," I explain sardonically. "He retracts and reinserts it," I make the motion with my hand in the air, "in a repetitive manner until –"

"Maggie," Dr. Richards scolds me. "I am aware how sexual intercourse works. Can you tell me how he makes you feel?"

I shrug. "Pretty. Young. Financially secure."

"I am more concerned with your emotions. Would you say 'excited' or 'happy' are any of the feelings you have when you are with him?"

"Sure."

She raises her eyebrows as if she expects me to continue. When I don't, she sighs quietly. I get it, I'm frustrating. "And what about with Deven?"

"He's very nice to me. Someone I'd consider a real friend for once in my life. And he has no intention of sleeping with me either, which is also kind of a first."

"That seems like something you've been looking to have in your life."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And emotionally, how does he make you feel?"

"Happy for sure," I answer truthfully. "He's accepting and playful. Just a bunch of fun and positivity in a cute, skinny package."

"That's good, Maggie. That's very good." She starts to write something down, and in a rare moment, I don't hate her for it. "And what about Remy?" she asks, not looking up from her notes.

My eyes narrow as I look at her. "What do you mean 'what about Remy'?"

"How do you feel about him?"

I'm not sure how to feel about the leading nature of her question. "He's the most stable person in my life. You know that."

"But how does he make you feel?"

My brow stitches so hard with my confusion, it makes my forehead hurt. "Okay, what are you getting at?"

"I'm wondering if you have ever explored the feelings you have for Remy. He is your protector in many ways. He always has your best interests in mind -- many times before his own -- and that brings you a lot of frustration."

"It does."

"And why do you think that is?"

I cross my arms. "Why do you think that is?"

"He is the only one that elicits a full range of raw emotion from you; frustration, anger, happiness, sadness, trust. He is the only person for which you show any level of empathy, the only one that you let get under your skin." The thin line that usually creates her mouth, curves into a smile. "I think that you may be in love with him."

My head leans to the side with how hard I glare at her. "You're fucking crazy."

"Am I?"

"You know what he had with Z, why he feels the need to take care of me the way he does. He loved her -- he always will -- which means he will always see me as his sister."

"But is that how you want him to see you?"

"Yes!" I say without hesitation.

"Okay. Well, our time is almost up, so I want to leave you with this ..." She closes her notebook and crosses her legs in the other direction. "Just as you told Remy, it is possible to love more than one person. It is also possible to love people independently of one another because we do not love every person in the same way. Love comes in different forms."

"Different forms?" I look at her with a quizzical expression.

"Yes. Though Remy may have loved your sister in a way that consumed him, he may find a love with someone else that does not remind him of your sister, but rather allows him to explore a different part of both himself and the love inside him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, makes perfect sense," I say sarcastically.

"Love is not a singularity. If we allow it, if we attempt to understand it, we can share a limitless amount with the world and those around us. This is what I hope you will think about as you move forward in your relationships."

I hope you choke on a dick. "Sounds great. I'll get right on that." I get up and start towards the door.

"Maggie." I stop in my tracks and turn back to face her. "I hope you take what I said seriously."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

_____

A/N: Do you think Maggie is in love with Remy?

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