She's broken now. She never would have called herself vain, but she doesn't want anyone else to see her broken. I guess, no one likes to be seen that way. She's turned her back to the window of her hospital room and she's refusing visitors (But I got in anyway, while she was sleeping). Though she never would have called herself perfect she can't stand that that perfection every one else saw is cracked.
I've always been waiting for that perfection to crack. A long time ago it was because I had something to prove. I wanted to prove that she was the make-pretend girl and I was the real one, his real one. Then she became my real one, my real girl while she was still his make-pretend girl. When he finally kissed her, finally kissed her for real I guess I was afraid that she could become his real girl too. But they didn't make it, they didn't weather the storm. We did. No matter what happened, we found a way to get through it and stay together. We began to understand that in the end we always had each other and that was a comfort to us both.
And here I am sitting by her bedside as she sleeps wondering when that happened. At what moment did my life become so entangled hers? At what moment did she become my real one? At what moment did I begin to understand her hurt as if I was feeling it myself? I hated her once upon a time, didn't I? And then I realize, it was always like that. I never hated her. I tried to convince myself I did, but every time she looked into my eyes I was hers.
"Chloe," she whispers as she comes awake.
"What are you doing here?"
"Where else would I be?" I say coming over to take her hand.
"I'm fine," she says pulling her hand away and doing her best to turn her back on me, despite the restriction of the leg brace.
"You're not fine," I say.
"Thanks for the reminder," she replies fighting tears.
"I'm sorry we involved you," I say turning away.
"Well, he's all yours now. You don't have to worry about me being 'involved' anymore."
"Are you talking about Clark?"
"Yes, Clark," she replied bitterly.
"The last thing on my mind right now is Clark," I said coming closer. "And you know that."
"Go home Chloe," she said.
I sat on the bed beside her, placed a hand on her cheek, she looked into my eyes and I leaned over and touched her lips with mine. I wasn't thinking, just acting, and so was she, because she met my kiss, dancing ever so briefly with my lips before they parted. It was then she knew I loved her. In that moment, it was that simple. And in that moment, it was everything she needed to know.
"You're not broken," I whispered in softly in her ear.
And she looked at me. Then she touched my hand and in that moment I knew that she loved me too.
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