dis: i don't own lot

prompt: "say you never loved me." "don't ask me to say that I don't love you."

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.

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"Say you never loved me."

She paused in packing a box, eyes fluttering closed as she bit her bottom lip to keep from making an anguished sound. This was already hard for her. She was walking away, but even now she felt the cold shackles enclose her wrists and ankles. A part of her wanted to stay. Wanted to stay with this damaged man who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest while he stared out the window. Feeling composed she looked over her shoulder at him, blue eyes blinking open. His jaw was tight and he was looking at something outside, basically looking at anything other than her.

"Don't ask me to say that I don't love you," she said. "You know I do."

She looked back down at her progress. It wasn't much. Just a box with some clothes in it. She had a bag at her sister's. She'd been staying there a few days after her and Leonard's latest fight. Since they first met in college they'd bantered and had sometimes gotten into heated discussions. But that had been part of the reason she'd been attracted to him. He was older, had a distant look about him… Something her freshman self had been looking for at the time.

No strings.

Now though? Now she wanted more, and he refused to give it to her. She wanted a life. A family. She knew he had a dark past, he shared tidbits about his dad here and there. She had hoped she'd been enough to get him to see past it. To see that they wouldn't end up like his parents had. He'd nearly broken down the day she moved in. She'd found him in the bathroom gripping the sink so tight and his face pale—but they had been able to move forward.

Now? After he yelled in her face that they'd never get married. That they'd never have kids. That the most she had to look forward to was the title of girlfriend… Sara Lance perhaps would have been able to be okay with not having a family, but the way he'd looked at her then. That had been a deal breaker. She loved him… He loved her…

But sometimes love wasn't enough.

"Then stay," he said softly, a hint of vulnerability to his voice.

"I can't."

"Because of what I said…"

"It's not just that, Leonard!" she said, frustrated and slamming her hands down on the table, hot tears filling her eyes. "It's because no matter what we do. No matter what I do. You still compare us to your parents! And that isn't fair!"

"I know," he said as she wiped her eyes vigorously to erase the tears. "I'm fucked up, Sara. You know this. You've known this."

"Yeah, well…" Sara laughed bitterly. "Somehow I thought…" She shrugged a shoulder. "Just forget it… Forget us."

"I can't," he said.

"You have to," she said, grabbing her box and moving to the kitchen. When she got to the island she couldn't see because of her tears and she plopped the box down before bringing her hands back up to her face. She took deep, calming breaths but it wasn't enough. She felt like she was drowning. She wanted to run into that room and hold onto him tight and never let go. She wanted to compromise (again) and do things his way instead of hers.

She couldn't-wouldn't-do that again.

She couldn't be with a man (or woman) who did nothing but expect their relationship to fail.

Composing herself, she found the few items in the kitchen that were hers. Leonard had been the cook. All the dinnerware, pots, and pans were his. She had a whisk… Something she'd proudly added to his drawer. A bright, obnoxious shade of green he'd glared at while it joined his pristine set. But he'd bit the inside of his cheek and allowed it… Same with her bulldog oven mitts and random shot glasses from her trips around the world. She grabbed the pink flamingo magnet, pausing to stare at a picture of them smiling together with his friend Mick and her sister Laurel. She considered taking it, but he'd been the one to put it on the fridge. She'd considered it a step in the right direction. This place had been so cold when she'd moved in. No pictures or accent pieces that spoke of personality. Just… Dark grey's and black with barely a hint of blue.

She left the picture and folded the box together. She had a few boxes for more clothes and her items from the bathroom. It didn't occur to her how much of the stuff in their place had been his until now. When done she only had five boxes and two suitcases. It didn't feel like much at all.

As if she really hadn't moved in. Perhaps that was why he'd been so okay about it in the end? Most of the items she had could be tucked away in drawers or cabinets. Or be hidden behind doors… Sara sighed sadly.

"I'll help you carry your stuff down," he offered, grabbing a box.

"Thanks," she said. It took no time for them to load up her small car. In the end they stood together awkwardly, his hands in his pockets and hers playing with the ends of her hair nervously. "Take care of yourself, Len."

"You, too…" he answered before turning away from her.

She quickly got into her car and drove to her sister's. She left the boxes in her car and spend the night crying with her head in her sister's lap while they drank a bottle of wine.

"This shouldn't hurt so much," she'd whisper while drifting off to sleep.

"It'll get better," said Laurel, pulling back strands of Sara's hair from her forehead to tuck behind her ear. "I promise. Okay?"

"Okay…"

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.

.

A month later she'd see him in the store. He looked thinner and depressed and it took everything in her to not run to him. She'd chickened out and hidden behind a display of stacked paper towels until he'd left.

Two months after that she'd see his sister, walking her dog in the park. Sara had taken up running and had just finished her work-out when Lisa greeted her.

"How are you?" she'd ask while they sat on the bench to watch the people walk by. Sara loved dogs and Lisa's was no exception. Chance was a pug that curled in her lap while they talked.

"Better," said Sara. "I didn't think I'd be okay for a while. How… How is he?"

Lisa shrugged. "You know Lenny… He doesn't want to talk about it. He's not happy… But I'm not blaming you! I know he's a stubborn ass." Sara smiled at that. "But I can tell my brother is hurting." Lisa looked down, suddenly angry. "I hate that even though he's dead, my father can still influence him."

"He told me about some if it," said Sara softly.

"He did?" Lisa seemed surprised. "Wow… I'd never expect that. He's not a talker, my brother, at least not about the serious stuff. He's great with the sarcasm… What all did he tell you?"

"How he got the scar on his arm," said Sara, making Lisa nod while rubbing the scar around the area of her collarbone. "Some other things."

"My dad was a real sonuvabitch. It hurts me to think Len thinks he'll end up like him. He doesn't give himself enough credit. He got us both to where we are today… Without him I might have turned into the criminal my father was."

They sat in silence after that, just watching the people before Sara made her excuses. Lisa prompted that she'd tell Leonard that Sara said hi… Sara didn't tell her not to.

.

.

.

I miss you.

Can we talk?

I just want to hear your voice.

I'm sorry.

Sara had left her phone in the kitchen while taking a shower and had returned to four messages from Leonard. Her hand was shaking while her thumbs itched to respond. She looked at the clock now. It was pushing midnight. Lisa must've told him she'd seen her. It would explain why he was suddenly messaging her after all this time. Sara put her phone down and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass. Laurel was asleep and Sara didn't want to wake her so she filled her glass before walking out onto the balcony. She shivered, her wet hair making her colder than she should have been. She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt before calling him.

It rang three times before he answered.

"Sara?"

"Hey…"

He sighed. "Hey."

"How are you?"

"Miserable." She sipped her wine. Liquid courage of the sorts. "You?"

"Same."

There was a long silence. Sara nearly drank a whole glass before she broke the ice. "Do you want to… Maybe get coffee? At our usual place?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "At eight?"

Sara made a face. "Maybe nine."

He chuckled. "Okay… Nine."

"See you then," she said before hanging up. "Shit."

.

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.

"You look good." It was a lie. He looked like shit. His eyes had dark circles under them. Her did, too, but she hid it with concealer. He was skinnier than when she saw him last. "How about we order some food to go with the coffee?"

He nodded. She ordered the waffles while he got a vegetarian omelet. They sipped their coffee in silence for a while but it wasn't awkward. It was like it used to be. Comfortable.

"I've been looking for a place," said Sara, gaining his attention. "I've been living with Laurel, but… I need my space, you know?"

"I do." Leonard took a bite of his toast, talking around it. "You still drawing?"

"Not for a while, now," said Sara. "Maybe something I'll pick back up again later."

"You really are good, Sara. Just don't sell yourself short. Your work belongs in museums." Leonard cracked a smile. "Any thief would look at it and see it as something worth stealing."

He had an odd way of complimenting her. Always. Something else she loved-loves-about him. "How about you? How's business?"

"Slow. Uneventful. Boring." He listed those off. "Mick's been handling it lately…" He frowned. "But that should change soon. He isn't as great with the numbers."

Sara nodded, agreeing.

They finished their food, paid their part of the bill, then left. Leonard offered to walk her to her sister's and she didn't discourage it. When they got to the door of the small townhouse Leonard reached out for her hand. Sara paused to look down at their entwined fingers.

"I know I messed up," he said softly. "I have problems, but, I'm trying to change. I'm seeing a… A therapist. To talk about… Things. It's… It's going… Okay."

"That's good." Sara looked up at him, head tilting back. He was much taller than her. She smiled up at him. "I'm glad."

"I'm damaged, Sara. I'm…" He sighed, hand tightening a little on hers. "But I want to work on it. I want to get better. These last few months have been hell."

"They really have been," she said.

"I don't have the right to ask this but… I want another chance with you. I think of the future and with you not in it…" He broke off. He wasn't one that was used to speaking from the heart. He wasn't used to being vulnerable. He didn't like it when others saw him at his weakest. She took a chance and brought her free hand up to his cheek and he relaxed instantly. "I want you, Sara."

"Leonard…"

"You don't have to answer right away. I just… I just want you to think about giving me another chance." He reached up to brush a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. "I love you."

She smiled up at him, eyes filling. Stupid tears. "I love you, too."

She threw caution aside and hugged him and he eagerly hugged her back.

A week later, her boxes were back in his place.

'Our place,' he'd correct.

This time, her things mixed with his. A new throw she bought on the couch, a few pillows on the bed… Her stuff inserted on each surface like candles and a random frame. He even admitted to missing her 'ridiculous' whisk. He also planned a day to go out and buy items together.

And a few months later, when he finally asked her to marry him: it was without fear of what was to come of the future.

END