Fandom: Imagine Me & You
Disclaimer: Not mine, thank you very much
Summary: I wrote this very quickly after watching the movie on YouTube for the third time, and I was struck by how embarrassing it was going to be to cram everyone into the car on the way home. Unfortunately, it isn't very funny. Luce's POV
You’re in the car with her mum and dad, and your mum as well, and somehow this happy ending has turned into the most awkward experience of your life. Her dad is looking at you as if you were his long lost hope and you know that he’s much happier with you having her than he was with Heck, because, obviously, whatever you do in bed will not violate his beautiful daughter. You’re glad he’s an innocent.
Her mother on the other hand is not pleased, and looking you up and down, probably weighing the fact that you are undeniably female with the fact that you own your own business and wondering if this has any potential to last at all. You know she thinks it doesn’t, and you don’t really either, because this is all too strong, all too sudden: You looked at that girl in her bridal gown and suddenly your heart ached. But you were used to heartache. Your best friend in school broke your heart when you kissed her and she never spoke to you again. Your dad broke your heart when he left, not for him, but for how much your mum hurt, and how her tears and weakness scared you, because you needed her more than anyone else.
Rachel was beautiful, in a china doll sort of way, or as Edie said “Barbie Heterosexual.” And sometimes you wonder if someone that beautiful can exist anywhere outside your fantasies. You were ready to work at it, to meet someone who liked you decently enough, and try and get over yourself, over your hopes that there was someone out there who was perfect for you. If there’s one thing that lesbians are good at is restraining themselves around the straight girls they have crushes on, because the “oh no, you’re not my type line,” is such bullshit. The real line is “oh no, you’ll break my heart.” But Rachel was different, she asked for your touch, putting your hands on her stomach at the football game, wrapping her arms around you, twining your fingers together, and all with that impossibly wide smile that just ate up her face. You let yourself go for a moment when you were dancing. You let yourself enjoy touching her, and wondered if this was what it was like when both of you were confident in your straightness, and could just enjoy each other, no tension, no need to admit any desire. But she tried to kiss you and threw all of your comfort out the window. Her almost kiss was like a sword in the gut, because you knew that hoping for a straight girl, hoping for a married straight girl to choose you, was futile. You don’t hope for the straight girls. You smile, and cut them off before they have enough time to get their claws into you. But it was too late with her. It was too late the moment you saw her.
You never hoped for anything. She never gave you a chance to hope, so you kissed her for as long and as deeply as you could, just taking that one moment, that moment before reality caught us up to enjoy what would never happen again.
You still don’t believe it. The empty flat with Heck’s things still scattered around made you nauseous. You had broken into someone’s life, had taken a hacksaw to it and left a weeping gaping hole. Coop had been right, you were a horrid homewrecking bitch. And Rachel was sad, you could see it in her eyes, and you knew that you had no right to be there. She sat down on the couch, that leather sofa that she and Heck had been so proud of that first night you came to dinner, and you wished that you had never taken that wedding job, that you had taken the weekend holiday that you had planned, and that none of this ever happened. Because you love her so much, and even though you know she loves you back, its hurts so much more than the lovely feelings of nothing that you miss so much.
It starts to be okay when you break down in Rachel’s parents’ parlor in the moment you’re left alone, when Rachel is fighting wither her mum and her dad is trying to calm everyone down in the kitchen.
H comes in and looks up at you. You look at her and you know that your eyes are red and the tears are obvious on your face. She sits next to you and rests her little hand on your knee.
“I didn’t know you’d be sad, or I’d have brought you sweets too. I guess you didn’t mean to send Heck away then.”
“No,” you choke a little on the word, “He’s a great guy. I wish we could have been friends.”
“You can still be friends, when he gets back, now that he’s on the trip instead of you.”
“I don’t know. He’ll probably be angry at me about Rachel.”
“Only if you make her unhappy. He told me that. He likes you too. It would have been great if you married Heck, though. I like you two best. I don’t see why everyone always makes a fuss about Rachel.”
You laugh. “I can’t tell you why. But I’m just happy you don’t hate me. It wouldn’t be worth it if I lost you too.”
H leans against you, wrapping her arm around your neck, and nuzzling your head, and you begin to think that there might be a place for you here. Maybe one day you’ll actually feel like you belong. It's not today, but at least you have a little consolation.