Penny Doesn’t Respond At First. There’s Too Much Swelling In Her Chest, Too Many Words Tangled Somewhere

penny doesn’t respond at first. there’s too much swelling in her chest, too many words tangled somewhere between her ribs and her throat, too much that could come out wrong if she rushes it. she looks at drew — really looks — and it almost breaks her. because despite everything, despite the silence and the confusion and the ache that’s been her constant companion for the past two weeks, she still feels it. that pull. that unshakeable gravity that keeps drawing her back to this person no matter how many times she tries to build walls around her heart. “do you know how cruel it was?” she finally says, voice soft but shaking. “not what you did before. not the past. not the cheating.” a pause. her eyes sting, and she blinks hard, willing the tears to wait. “i’m talking about this. you just — disappeared. without warning. after everything we’ve been through. after all the work i had done to get to a point where i’ve been dancing around the idea of us again. letting you back in..  and i know it wasn’t about me or you trying to hurt me, not directly, but god, drew, it did.” her arms cross, more for grounding than defense. “i gave you space. because i thought maybe something had happened. that maybe you needed time. and i didn’t want to be the person who made it worse by crowding you. but every single day that went by without hearing from you — it started to feel less like you needed space and more like you’d decided i didn’t need to be kept. like you’d just… left. again.” she shakes her head, correcting herself. “no. not again. because you don’t do that. you don’t disappear. not like this. that’s why it hurt so much. because it’s not who you are — at least not who i thought you were anymore.”

she swallows the lump in her throat, pushing forward before the emotion chokes her off completely. “and then you walk in here like a hurricane in parkers flannel and a bandeau, making jokes and sniffing candles, like my brain hasn’t been chewing itself alive. i thought something happened to you, drew. i thought maybe everything that has happened lately was something you started to regret and you just didn’t know how to say it. or worse — that you were hurting and didn’t think you could come to me. that part nearly destroyed me.” she sinks back onto the couch, her knees pulled up, arms wrapping around them. “i don’t want to keep doing this push-and-pull every time life gets hard. i don’t want to be an afterthought, or a burden, or the person who gets left behind when everything gets too loud. i want to be someone you trust enough to stay with — even when it’s messy. especially when it’s messy.” a breath. “i believe in second chances, drew. i believe people can change. that they do change. and i let you back in because i felt like we were building something again. something good. something real. and i want to believe that wasn’t just me romanticizing the ruins. i want to believe this still matters to you.” she finally looks up at her again, eyes tired but clear. “but i need you to be honest with me. not just tonight. not just when it’s dramatic and everything’s falling apart. i need you to show up — and stay. because i don’t know how to give any less than all of me. and if i do that again… i need to know you won’t go quiet. and i need to know i’m not making the biggest mistake of my life when i say that i will always, wholeheartedly be yours. after everything, you’re all i want and all i’ll ever want.”

drew’s hands tremble, unknowing if it’s from the weight of the confession penny has just laid bare or the excruciating clarity that comes with hearing everything penny’s been carrying. she's not ignorant to burdens she causes, the mess she leaves in her wake. but to be reminded of her shortcomings never gets easier. her chest tightens, suffocating her under the heavy truth of it all. she wants to speak, wants to apologize, to make it right somehow -- but the words feel too small, too useless in the face of what she’s done. instead, all she can do is look at penny, the rawness of the moment cutting deeper than any act of harm she could have committed against herself. penny's words are still ringing in her ears, each one heavier than the last, and drew can feel the guilt gnawing at her. it makes her want to bolt again. but she can’t. no more coward's game.

"i'm not going to lie to you. not anymore." this isn't a bullshit vow. not a promise that be seamlessly debunked in a day's time but rather an opening line to her inner monologue. "what i expect from you is for you to worry. that's what you do. you drown yourself in baths, and tea, and candles, and wicked, and worry. i expect that. i also expect the tears. cruelly, i expect the forgiveness. i know it doesn't come easily but it always does with time. it's fucked up for me to expect it. but that's just who you are." drew rubs the day's old mascara from her eyes. she likely looks exhausted, defeated by the repercussions of her own actions. penny's plush sofa has never looked so comfortable. everything about this place makes her haunted. no wonder each time she returns she's reminded of her mistakes.

and all of her expectations are proven right at penny's confession. the words sound like they're being spoken in a chapel. soft, asking for forgiveness for the sin of being too forgiving. it feels like they're in an alcoholic's anonymous meeting. except penny is addicted to drew -- and drew is addicted to fucking up. drew’s eyes flicker back up to penny’s, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no deflection, no shields, just the painful truth. "i don’t know how to fix this. i don’t know how to fix me. but, i’m here. i know i disappeared --" drew releases a breath she'd been holding on account of penny's words. she wouldn't have been surprised if her features had washed purple. "but you're so brilliant. i read all the playbill reviews and i was fuckin' smiling ear to ear. because to know you - to see you is to be absolutely enamored by you. how am i ever supposed to feel like i deserve you when i've never done one thing right?" the distance between them closes as drew crosses the floor, lacing a stray hair behind penny's ear. "you're a star, pen. you don't need me to tell you that. but you need to believe it yourself. you need to believe that you deserve more than this." white teeth chew and fiddle nervously at her lower lip. "but on the off chance, you do realize it and make the reckless decision to love me anyways. i'm here. i'll always be here. even if it's by carrier pigeon or up in the god damn sky, i'm here. and i'm yours. even if you're not mine."