Smed hadn't meant to tell Natalie everything, but he did. Not so much about Megan, but about himself. Had he been wrong about himself..all this time?
"Maybe its me," he said, thinking it was true. He was damaged goods, now wasn't he? Not that he exactly felt sorry for himself. But..but if given a chance... at something normal than just being in the shadows all this time, growing up with his other brother..maybe he would have met the right person instead of just well..being there ..accidentally..with Megan.
"No, its not you." Natalie told him. "Its not. And stop saying, it was an accident. Accidents are car crashes, you know. They usually involve trips to the emergency room." He liked listening to her talk, even if he'd over extended his lunch break and ended up staying late at his job. It felt good to open up. And Natalie was a good listener.
"Promise, next time, you'll do all the talking." There had to be a next time. He wanted to hear her voice.
Of course, he thought he was coming down with the sniffles at the moment. He hated the fact, to come home to their room. Megan's things were still there. Her shiny ribbons laying a top the mirror above the dresser. Here were all her junk jewelry in a sea shelled cigar box. He snapped it closed as he came across a snapshot of them at his brother's wedding. She was all smiles, dressed up. They'd never cleaned up so nicely, before.
Smed put it back on the dresser and sat on the bed. He was so tired from the day. Basically, thinking of Megan mostly. He'd never meant to hurt her feelings. He'd always been careful not too. Or so he thought. Maybe he hadn't cared, lately. He didn't know anymore as he closed his eyes. Finally he peeled off his sneakers and rolled into bed.
Her scent of lavender was still on the pillow next to him. He thought of her soft brown hair. It wasn't always perfect. He grinned then. Why did she want completely straight hair? She was always trying to make his look stylish, yet he was OK with fuzzy hair. He didn't care. There was more to her than just hair. But it was the outward appearance she tended to, so religiously.
No, he was never perfect, neither was she. He crumbled then, caressing her pillow so tightly. He didn't want to let her go, yet he already had.