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Today was Madeline’s monthly (or so she said) ‘deep cleaning every room because I’m bored’ day. It wasn’t monthly by any means, she did it whenever she felt like it and more often than not stopped actually cleaning to try on every single item of clothing she had forgotten about. It was also Helen’s last week to edit her manuscript and send the final copy to her editor, and she had decided to spend the entire day in her office. Of course it was a pure coincidence that Madeline just so happened to be searching the entire house today of all days, and that she would inevitably call for Helen’s help at some point when she impulsively decided to clean the writer’s room and then forgot to put everything back where it was supposed to be. It had nothing to do with the fact that Helen had told her she wanted to spend the day all alone to actually be productive.
So now here she was, looking through decades of clothes in her closet, of playbills in her drawers, of good reviews in her boxes.
She laughed when she found another one of Helen’s old shirts in a box at the bottom of her closet. So far, this was the 8th one, and that was only her cheesy sleep shirts. She had stolen quite a few over the years for no other reason than wanting to keep Helen – or at least something of hers – around, but she hadn’t realized half of Helen’s clothes, from thirty years ago or from last week, were actually in her own room.
She hadn’t realized her room looked more like theirs now. It was embarrassing, really. They lived together, true, and their relationship wasn’t quite a friendship, true, but they weren’t a couple either. There was no reason for them to share that much space in Madeline’s bedroom with all the space available literally anywhere else in the entire house, including Helen’s own room that was clearly big enough. There was no reason for Helen to be in Madeline’s room at all.
Still, Madeline’s dead heart seemed to start beating again for a second.
So much of Helen’s stuff was in this room with all the nights they had spent there. Helen often found herself reading or even writing here at three in the morning, because Madeline always agreed to stay awake with her – she was the one who had suggested it, much to Helen’s surprise. That messy room, their stuff lying around, hers almost indistinguishable from Helen’s, was proof of the time they spent together, just the two of them, when nothing else existed. Rationally, she knew sharing her room with Helen – or whatever they were doing by sleeping in the same bed – when her own was only two doors away down the hall was weird, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.
Madeline had lost track of how many times they had just sat on her bed, talking until they could finally sleep. It happened so often. She had lost track of how many times they had shared her bed since they died, telling themselves they just didn’t want to feel alone and would have done it with anyone else. She had lost track of how many times they had been too close. Of the now familiar touches, the desperate kisses they pretended didn’t happen in the darkness of Madeline’s room, the sex that they apparently refused to talk about but kept going back to because it felt like the only way they had to feel real things – real, good things, even if temporary – but just left them lost and incredibly confused until it all started again.
The praises uttered in fleeting moments that would never be heard outside of those walls, forever chasing a comfort and security they would never find, the I love you’s that shouldn’t have been said whispered on each other’s lips when their bodies fell back together, holding each other tight enough for their hearts to almost start beating again. The warmth of their bodies pressed together afterwards, safe in an all-consuming embrace, never daring to move as if it would wake them up from a now decade long dream, staying like this until sleep overtook the both of them. The comfort of waking up in each other’s arms, close enough to feel every inch of their bodies, just to have to go on about their day without feeling it for too long.
This room wasn’t even really hers anymore. It held too many secrets. It had witnessed too many things. It had heard too many confessions. But it was a haven, as twisted as it sounded. A place where nothing outside mattered. A place where they were just Mad and Hel, and none of what they had done to each other was important. A place where they could pretend they had figured it out sooner, before it was too late, and they could live their lives, their actual lives, not this ‘dead to the world but alive forever’ state, the way they really wanted to – together.
None of what happened in this room was talked about. None of it really impacted their life together, not more than everything else had. Unlike their deaths, there was no real evidence of their nights together, no constant reminders like Helen’s clay-filled stomach or Madeline’s scarred neck. Only memories subsided, and sometimes Madeline thought it was probably even worse. She felt like she was going crazy, like she might be living in some kind of hallucination, or maybe Helen had actually killed her and this was hell. She could spend days distracted by the memory of Helen, until they gave in and it all started all over again.
But they were really good at pretending they didn't know what each other’s lips tasted like, what each other’s hands on their bodies felt like. They were actresses, after all.
If Madeline thought about it, this had been a long time coming. Their relationship had always been too weird. Too possessive, too close, too jealous for it to end up any other way. And she knew it, she really did. But when Madeline was left alone just long enough to start really thinking about it, she knew it was a bad decision that had grown into an even worse situation. She knew it did affect them. She knew they never should have let themselves do this.
But they had, and it was too late now. And she didn’t want to stop. She would never want to stop. She’d take what she could with Helen, and it would have to be enough. She had all eternity to convince herself it was.
She put the t-shirt aside and opened other boxes. There were playbills and old props from one of her shows in that one. It was the third box she found like that, but this one was different. This was the last show she’d done, a little over twenty years ago now, and this was the playbill she’d signed for Helen the day she had introduced Ernest. By then, in her career, Madeline was… bored, to say the least. Fame wasn’t enough for her anymore, and she didn’t even know what she really wanted. And then Helen had showed up, and just like that Madeline had a new reason to be alive. She had signed the playbill for Helen like she always did, to show her how successful she was, sure, but also because she wanted Helen to have it, and to be proud of her. It was stupid, really. But it was also the only thing she had actually signed, with her actual hand and not a stamp, in years. She had wanted to give it to her the next time they saw each other on their own without some man here to distract Helen from her. They never had.
She felt her heart tighten, and remorse got to her again. Every time she saw anything that was even remotely tied to this show, she felt awful. But this was worse, this was the literal night her life had started going downhill. There in her hands was the reason she had spent a decade alone and Helen in a mental hospital, the reason she and Helen were both dead.
She sighed and left the room. This was still Helen’s, no matter what. She had promised to give it to her, so she would.
Helen was almost finished. She only had a few days before she needed to send her manuscript, and she was starting to think maybe she could be done by the end of the day.
Maybe she and Madeline would have enough time to have a night out. It had been a while since they had last gone out. They didn’t really do this a lot anymore, Madeline hadn’t been officially dead long enough for people to not recognize her, and she hated having to go somewhere less… glamorous than her usual favorite places.
Maybe she’d agree for once, to celebrate with her. Madeline did love celebrating. And since they had started living together, more than a decade ago now, she had started celebrating Helen’s achievements like they mattered. It had been twelve years, and Helen was still surprised by it. She didn’t mind, of course. She loved having Madeline be proud of her. She loved having Madeline tell her she was proud. She loved Madeline.
She wondered sometimes if Madeline meant any of what she said to her. There was no reason to think she didn’t, and Helen knew it, but she couldn’t help it. What if the other woman only told her she loved her because she wanted Helen to stay with her, and not because she actually meant it ? What if everything was just a big lie and Madeline didn’t really care about her, she just didn’t want to be alone ?
But then, she thought about the way Madeline acted when they were all alone. When they ended up in each other’s arms, in a far too comfortable position for them to not realize it wasn’t very friendly. When Helen’s sleeping pills didn’t do anything for her and Madeline sacrificed her beauty sleep (not that she needed it anymore, but Madeline Asthon wasn’t exactly a logical woman) to stay up with her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while rubbing her thigh. When Madeline worshipped her like she was the only thing that she cared about in this world. She knew Mad had never been like that with anyone else – she had told her this during one of their sleepless nights – and she did everything she could to be worthy of it, but nothing would ever stop those thoughts in her head, this voice that told her Madeline had spent her life hurting her before, so why would it be any different now ?
She tried to focus on her computer in front of her and get Madeline off her mind. But she was just always on her mind. Even when she wasn’t physically there, even when Helen had told her she would spend the day alone in her office to avoid the distractions, Madeline was on her mind.
Stop it, Helen. Focus.
She lasted three minutes before the other woman popped back into her mind. She really wanted a break. She really wanted to see Madeline.
No, I have to finish this.
And as she was about to turn back to her computer and finish the sentence she had completely forgotten about these last ten minutes, she heard a knock on the door.
“Hel, can I come in ?”
“Of course,” she answered, a little too fast for her own liking.
Madeline opened the door and walked right to Helen, holding the playbill behind her back.
“I was cleaning ou- my room and I found something of yours.”
Helen stared at her for a few seconds.
“Yeah, Mad, half of your room is actually full of my things. I spend most of my nights there.”
Madeline still couldn’t quite believe this was just a normal sentence to Helen. How was this not confusing to her ? Granted, it had been years by now – nine years and two months, but who cared, right ? –, but wasn’t it at least the tiniest bit weird ? How was she the only one fazed ?
“Yeah, I know, but I was talking about this,” she said, showing her the playbill. “I signed it for you after you left, but then I never got to give it to you. I thought we’d see each other again.”
For the first time in years, Madeline saw Helen go from confusion to hurt.
“And what makes you think I want to have it now ?”
“I… I don’t know, it’s just supposed to be yours.”
“Well it’s not, you never gave it to me. Like you said, we never saw each other again.”
There was a coldness in her tone that Madeline hadn’t heard since Helen had pushed her down the stairs. That hadn’t been her intention, but she knew she had just unleashed something they had been dancing around for a decade – technically, two. Something that they had never talked about. Something they were never supposed to talk about. It was supposed to be in the past, forever buried, far from their minds and from their bed, not here with them now.
Madeline could have reacted like she always did – say something mean and leave – but she was too tired for this. Tired of avoiding it. Tired of acting like they didn’t need to have a real conversation. Tired of seeing Helen lose sleep over it still, knowing she couldn’t help her if they didn’t sort it out together. Just tired. And she had no reputation to protect anymore, she was dead. She didn’t have to make sure she was better than Helen, there would be no one to see it. She didn’t have to act like ruining Helen’s self-esteem – and life – again was something she enjoyed doing. So she swallowed her pride and chose her next words very carefully.
“I didn’t come here to make you mad.”
“This night ruined my life. You ruined my life. This isn’t something I want to remember. This was the worst thing that happened to me. I don’t want that playbill.”
“I’m sorry. You know I am, Hel. I just didn’t think it still affected you this much.”
She realized it sounded stupid. But somewhere in her twisted and extremely egocentric mind, Madeline thought that maybe Helen had forgiven her, even partly.
“I was in a psych ward for years because of this. I’ll always be affected, and I’ll always feel terrible, and I’ll always try to forget about it. I don’t care that you’re fine with what happened, I’m not.”
“I’m not either, I feel awful. I always will.”
“No, Mad, you don’t get to feel awful for something you willingly did to hurt me. You don’t get to apologize and have it all be ok all of a sudden. I still have nightmares because of this entire year and you saying this now isn’t going to make me feel any better. None of it will ever make me feel better. Let’s not pretend you can just say you ‘feel awful’ and make it all stop.”
“I’m not trying to. I know it’s too late for this. I just don’t want you to feel like this forever.”
“Even murdering you didn’t work, nothing ever will,” she said, her voice still cold, her eyes teary. “I knew what would happen when I stepped into that room. I knew what you were going to do.”
Madeline could tell Helen was talking to her as much as she was to herself by now. That was what Helen did, she spiralled until she lost control, and then she reminisced until someone stopped her. But she couldn’t snap her out of it, not when this was her fault in the first place. It would just make it even worse. It was better to just let her get angry and then hope she wouldn’t move out.
“I still walked right into it like the stupid, naive friend that I was. Because a small part of me thought maybe I could win and get what I wanted, maybe even with all the jealousy and the need to always be better than me, you wouldn’t ruin it for me again. Maybe you’d see I was happy and you’d decide to stay away for once, and let your friend get the life she always wanted. But no, you just did what you always do. Again. And the worst part is that I knew it would happen.”
“It wasn’t some grand scheme either, I didn’t plan it. It only took three dirty jokes, a glass of champagne and ten minutes of pretending to enjoy his company for that man to fold, clearly I did you a favor. I didn’t decide to steal him just for the fun of it like you seem to think I did, I didn’t even notice him before you said you were engaged,” she replied, and suddenly she realized that this was a little too similar to what she had just said she wouldn’t do – be an awful friend who didn’t have time to care about Helen’s feelings and spoke like she didn’t even understand that her actions had consequences.
It was such a stupid thing to say. But she just couldn’t shut up.
“Because that’s just so much better isn’t it ?” Helen said, louder and angrier. “Madeline Ashton doesn’t notice men until she realizes they’re her best friend’s fiancé. How classy of you.”
“Yes, fine, I fucked up. I know I did. I just didn’t want you to get married.”
“You knew this was all I wanted. You knew I just wanted a good career and someone who loved me, and you just couldn’t resist. Couldn’t see me be happy without needing you.”
Madeline stared at her, eyes wide. She wished she could say this wasn’t true. But she just couldn’t let someone else make Helen happy. It had to be her. It was supposed to be her, holding her hand, seeing her smile. Not some random man who couldn’t even remember her favorite meals and how to reassure her when her anxiety took over. Helen deserved everything, and only she could give it to her. Only she knew her enough to love her. Helen should know that. Madeline thought she did. She thought all the years they had spent together had made it obvious.
“Do you know how miserable I was after that night and that dinner ?” Helen went on, too hurt and too angry to notice Madeline’s panic. “When I had to get back to our hotel alone because you just couldn’t keep your hands off for once ? When I woke up the next morning just to see him pack in front of me and he couldn’t even say a word to me after years of being together ? When I got the news that you were getting married to him ? Do you have any idea what it did to me ?”
She was basically yelling by the end of it. She had been trying her best to not remember any of it for two decades, but her efforts had been vain. Everything was still so vivid in her mind, it could have happened last week – four years of living like a zombie, constantly drugged and restrained, with only her memory and recurring Madeline hallucinations to distract her and replay the entire scene probably had a hand in this. She hated that she couldn’t get over it. Rationally, she knew it was normal, because it had ruined her life and all, but Helen hadn’t been rational in ages. She hated that she still lost sleep over it. She hated that she couldn’t just pretend it had never happened and go back to living like she did before meeting Ernest. She hated that she had literally gone crazy over it and was undead and immortal because of it now. She hated that she had to live forever with the person who had put her through all of this in the first place. And she hated that she couldn’t even hate Madeline. She should have, it would have been easy. But Madeline was the only person Helen couldn’t bring herself to hate. Not really, not ever.
Obsession wasn’t hate, it was just another form of love – unhealthy, one-sided, broken, but still love.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can say,” Madeline replied. “I didn’t realize it would go this far.”
“You thought getting married to my fiancé less than a month after you made him dump me wouldn’t have consequences ? Seriously, Madeline ? How fucked up do you have to be to say this ?”
“I didn’t think you liked him this much, I couldn’t understand what you saw in him ! I thought it would just be like the others and you’d be over it after a week, and then when you still wouldn’t hear from me I thought the wedding would be enough to make you talk to me ! I didn’t know it would lead to all of this, I wouldn’t have done it if I did.”
“You didn’t know ? Well I know you. And I could tell you knew you were hurting me. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“And I’m sorry ! Yes, I knew what I was doing was awful, but I could never have thought it would end like this. I can’t change what I did, Hel, I only wish I could.”
“And what would you even do ? Say sorry before dragging him away ? You can’t help it ! You never could. You wanted him, and all of them.”
“I didn’t even care about him,” Madeline answered harshly.
“I saw the look on your face. You looked at me like you wanted me to be unhappy for the rest of my life, and at him like he was a new trophy you could win.”
“I would never look at anyone like this, let alone your stupid boyfriends,” she replied, upset now. “Just because you are convinced you deserve to be treated like utter trash by mediocre men who barely even like you in the first place doesn’t mean I have the same standards.”
She hadn’t said anything like this to Helen in years. She hadn’t said anything meant to cut this deep since they had killed each other. She knew it was cruel. She knew it was probably one of the worst things she could have said right now. But old habits died hard, and she was Madeline Ashton. She didn’t know how to tell the truth when it mattered too much to her, she didn’t know how to tell Helen that the only thing she had ever wanted to win was her. But she sure knew how to hurt the other woman, and using Helen’s insecurities was the easiest way out, the only way she had of telling Helen she never wanted men who she had only ever looked at with barely concealed hatred – for treating her best friend like a consolation prize when to Madeline, being with Helen was the most perfect reward she could ever imagine.
Helen’s face fell when she heard Madeline’s answer. She shouldn’t be surprised, after all. If anything, it was surprising the other woman had lasted this long without finding something insanely vicious to throw at her. It wasn’t even that bad.
Except it was, because Madeline knew Helen was insecure, and she knew she didn’t really believe she deserved anything good out of a relationship. Helen had told her this, in one of their much-too-vulnerable moments, and Madeline had held her in her arms until she fell asleep. She had told her she deserved a lot more between kisses to her temples, had even made her believe it for a moment. Helen had thought Madeline might be the one to give it to her, with the way she had looked at her. No trace of hatred, or that jealousy they had both sported for years, so ever-present that it still felt weird sometimes to live without it. Pure, unfiltered adoration, mixed with a need to protect her – like her arms wrapped tightly around her already demonstrated – and care for her.
She had thought Madeline had really meant it that way.
“Well, it didn’t stop you, did it ?” she just said, her voice filled with anger to mask her heartbreak – she wasn’t sure it was working. “Nothing ever stopped you, you could never just be normal. You just had to date every single one of them !”
“I told you I never even cared about them !”
“You can repeat this as much as you want, it won’t erase everything that you did ! You got married to the last one, Madeline, I wouldn’t call that ‘not caring’ !”
“I didn’t get married because I liked him, I only did it because I didn’t want you to marry him !”
“That’s bullshit ! Don’t put this on me, you married him because you wanted to,” Helen told her, anger finally really taking over.
“I wanted you !” she just said. “I never cared about him, I always wanted you.” She took a breath, leaving enough time for Helen to speak if she wanted to. She didn’t. “Ever since I met you I’ve wanted you. And I couldn’t stand it when you had someone else so I stole them every time. And it was fucked up, I know. I should’ve told you, I should’ve let them go and focused on you and maybe it would’ve worked. But I was scared and most of all jealous, and you know I was never reasonable when I got jealous.”
You were never reasonable at all, Helen wanted to say. But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust herself to form a proper sentence without having to face the feelings she had tried to bury long ago already. She had thought the drugs, nights spent in a semi-conscious state, mind fogged, crying over her, the blood lost from biting her lip or digging her nails into her palms or taking it out on her thighs, and the therapies had at least done something to make her able to talk to Madeline without thinking about her feelings. And yet here she was, in front of the woman she knew so well, had known for most of her life, and she realized she had always been incapable of looking at her without feeling something deep in her heart – whether it be hurt, concern, anger or love. She would never be able to. That was why she had come back to Madeline again and again, why she had spent years planning this revenge of hers, why she was here today. Madeline had a way of making her feel so many things – too many things – that it was impossible to truly live away from her. Because Helen needed to feel, and no one did it as well as Madeline. It sounded wrong, it sounded twisted, but it was just the truth, plain and simple : Madeline pushed Helen, she provoked her, she hurt her, and then she loved her, she cared for her, she celebrated her ; and Helen loved it. Helen needed it. But it didn’t mean she trusted it, trusted her. It didn’t mean she thought it was stable. It didn’t mean she thought she knew what Madeline thought of it. She knew none of it, and that was why she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t say the truth, put it out there before she was sure she and Madeline both thought of it – of them – that way.
The silence stretched for far too long. Madeline thought maybe she’d gone too far, but she knew it had been bound to happen. She had never explicitly told her how long she had loved her, how long she had wanted her, not in so many words at least, but it was far from the first time she told Helen something like this. It wasn’t even the worst thing she’d told her really, or the most intimate for that matter. They had shared worse when they shouldn’t have. They had admitted things that revealed more than what she had just said. Madeline hadn’t even tried to hide that truth in the years they had spent together, she knew Helen had figured it out by herself years ago already.
It was all unspoken, their feelings for each other, the same ones that had led them right there. Unspoken, but still here. They felt it when they were alone. They understood it, confessed it through devoted touches and lingering kisses. Madeline’s love for Helen wasn’t breaking news, she had said it more times than she could count already, and she planned on saying it again as much as she could before the sun exploded.
But Helen didn’t seem to realize that.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” she replied, offended that Helen believed her to be so cruel as to lie about this. “Do you seriously think I’m lying ? Why do you think I used to flirt with you back when we were in college ? Why do you think I insisted on us sharing a room ? Why do you think I wore literal lingerie every time you came to see me after my shows ? It wasn’t some magical new development that somehow happened when you moved in, Hel, it was already here decades before that. I could’ve just slipped him a note with my address on it, you know. Like I did back in college. But I invited you both that night, because I wanted you, and I figured if you didn’t feel the same way I’d just take him instead. I really tried to get you to say something – anything that would tell me you might want me too. I was waiting all night for you to say it. I tried everything on you, and nothing worked. So I took him, because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy with someone else. Again.”
“Don’t. Just- don’t do this, Mad.”
She wasn’t angry anymore. She was terrified. She knew Madeline could see it. Don’t say it. Don’t make it true.
“Don’t do what ? say it in the light of day, outside of a room that hasn’t even been mine since we started sharing it ? What, Helen ?”
“Don’t say something you don’t mean just to win a stupid fight ! Your ego will survive losing one argument.”
Madeline paused and stared at Helen, dumbfounded.
“I mean it, Hel. Obviously I mean it. I would never hurt you like this, not after everything.”
“I have no way of knowing you wouldn’t. That’s all you ever did to me, every time I allowed myself to trust you. You hurt me. Why would this be any different ? Why should I believe it now ?”
Madeline looked at her, puzzled. What did she mean ? Why would Helen choose not to believe her, after she spent years saying it already ? And then something clicked.
“You… never believed me ? Every time I told you I cared about you since we died, every time I showed you how much you meant to me, you thought I was lying ? You thought I didn’t really want you ? You thought I told you I loved you just to mess with you ?”
Madeline wasn’t angry, far from it. She was heartbroken. And Helen could hear it in her voice, see it in her icy – teary – blue eyes, but as much as she wished she could say it wasn’t true, and she had never doubted her, she couldn’t. Because they had a history, and no matter what – no matter what she felt, no matter what Madeline told her, no matter how real it sounded, no matter what they both did for each other –, she couldn’t just forget about it. She couldn’t blindly trust Madeline anymore, and so she hadn’t.
“I don’t know what I thought, all I know is that I promised myself I wouldn’t let you destroy my life again when we started. I don’t know if you want me, or even like me, or worse love me, but I know I can’t trust you like I used to when we were twenty. Because there will always be a chance you don’t feel any of this. There’s a chance you’re just saying it to keep me here because you can’t handle being left behind. There’s a chance you’re using my feelings against me, so no, I didn’t let myself believe that you actually loved me back. There’s no reason for you to love me, why would you ?”
“Why would I- Helen, I’ve loved you for decades. I insisted on you moving in because I didn’t want to have to live forever knowing you were somewhere out there without me. I kissed you that night because I needed you to know I cared about you more than I had ever told you. I needed you to know that you mattered more to me than anything else, and I gladly would have spent my last few years loving you proudly and loudly the way you deserve even if it meant getting less movie deals just to show you you were worth everything you thought you couldn’t have. I was ready to ask you out right there, I didn’t even care about the consequences, but you told me sleeping together didn’t mean we had to be anything more than friends.”
Madeline swallowed hard. She didn’t like being reminded of this, for a whole lot of reasons. For starters, she was Madeline Ashton. Nobody had ever told her they just wanted to ‘stay friends’. Nobody had ever said no to going on a date with her. Except Helen. And that was the painful part, really. Helen. Helen didn’t want to have to deal with the high-maintenance mess of a movie star that was Madeline Ashton. Helen didn’t want to be with her. She didn’t care about her enough, didn’t love her enough to do it, not like Madeline did. Because Madeline was just too much, she always was.
“There are lots of things I said to you that I didn’t mean, and I regret it, but never this. I spent the last twelve years telling you this as much as I could. It’s probably the most honest thing I’ve ever said in my life. And for the record, you’re my best friend, you know me better than I know myself and there are so many things that make you one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever known, but I don’t need a reason to love you. I never needed one, it just happened. I couldn’t help it, and I hated myself and I hated you and I was a bitch the entire time because I didn’t want to face it. But I decided to be better, I told you I would the night we died, and I’ve been trying my best to keep that promise.”
Helen didn’t answer, just stared back at her. She had nothing to say to this. What could she say, ‘I meant it too when I said I loved you’ ? That seemed very weak and insufficient compared to what Madeline had turned into an entire confession ten – thirty ? forty ? – years in the making.
“Hel, please just say something.”
“I… can’t believe you waited this long to say it,” she muttered. “After you stole all my boyfriends, got married to my fiancé two decades ago, had me locked up in a psych ward, led to both of us dying, and started sleeping with me. Ten years ago.”
“Barely nine. Must you always be blowing things out of proportion ?”
“You were counting ?”
“You weren’t ?” Helen looked at her with a concerned stare. “I’ve been going crazy ever since, of course I was counting !”
“You should’ve said it sooner. You should’ve said it when we were still alive, when it could still change something.”
“I know that, Helen. I do. But I said it now, so will you please just answer me ?”
“I obviously love you too, you idiot. Of course I love you.”
“Well that’s a weird way of showing it,” she pouted.
“Don’t act like that’s not what you’ve been dying to hear, Mad,” she raised an eyebrow.
“I know you love me. Because no matter how self-centered it is, I truly thought you’d somehow forgiven me somewhere in the past nine years, and I knew you were never lying when you told me you loved me, or when you said that you didn’t really mind living forever if we were together like this. Which is why I told you that I loved you, and that I felt safer with you than I ever had with anyone else. And that I didn’t mind not being Madeline Ashton anymore if I got to be Mad with you. But you know what, maybe I didn’t know. Maybe I just wanted to believe it so much that I did. Maybe I didn’t want to face the fact that you could be lying to my face about it because you felt bad for me. Maybe I didn’t really think you’d forgiven me, maybe I told myself I’d rather live a lie while holding your hand and think you did love me instead of living with the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with knowing it was never true. But either way, I believed you. So no, I don’t really need to hear it now. It doesn’t hurt, and it still makes me feel like maybe my heart will start beating again if you say it enough, but it isn’t new to me. It’s the way I lived those past nine years. I woke up everyday knowing you loved me.”
“I wish I had done the same.”
Madeline looked at her then, suddenly hopeful. Helen didn’t sound as angry anymore. It was almost… wistful ? Maybe I can still try. Maybe it’s not too late.
“What’s nine years compared to forever ?”
Madeline took a tentative step forward and took Helen’s hands in hers, praying that she wouldn’t push away – releasing a breath when she didn’t.
“Please, Hel. Please believe me. Please trust me.”
Helen looked back at her, tears threatening to spill. She thought about everything that had just been said. Madeline was right, she knew it. And maybe… maybe she could trust her again. Madeline had lost her frenemy title years ago, she had been everything a best friend was supposed to be – everything she had said she would. She didn’t have an actual reason to refuse. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to trust her, wanted to go back to how they were before everything. She would do anything to get to be Madeline’s friend without having to worry about the other woman suddenly deciding that she wasn’t worth it. She had thought it was impossible to get back, but maybe she was wrong. She hoped she was.
But either way, she was taking the risk now. This was worth it, she knew it was.
“I guess I… I can try. You’re right.”
Madeline smiled and let out a shriek, and for a second Helen thought she had never looked so beautiful and so happy – and so much like a little puppy too. The actress took a step forward and Helen saw her hand reach for her face, but she stopped herself, her smile faltering the tiniest bit.
“Mad, I appreciate you trying to be respectful, I do, but please just kiss me.”
Madeline pulled Helen closer to her body, circling her waist with her arms, and did as she was told. Helen could feel her smile against her lips, sweet and perfect and addicting. It wasn’t their first kiss, far from it. It wasn’t the first time they let themselves feel those feelings – this cursed love of theirs – either. But it was the first time they were sure they felt the same, which, really, basically meant it was the first.
She was convinced she wouldn’t even mind spending eternity kissing Madeline.
They parted eventually, and Helen let out a laugh, which made Madeline smile the way only Helen could make her.
“I love you,” the actress said, still holding one of Helen’s hands.
“I know.”
Madeline rolled her eyes but her smile only widened.
“Thank you,” Helen told her. “For telling me all of this instead of getting angry and defensive. I know you don’t like having to talk about what you feel.”
“I really don’t. And I’d love it if we could wait at least another decade before we have to do this again. But you needed to hear it, I needed to tell you. I’ve been trying to unlearn the bitchy act, anyway. It would get tiring way too fast if I were to storm out and talk shit about you every time you piss me off,” she joked. “More seriously, though, it’s for you. I know you need to be reassured and told that people still care and won’t leave. And you deserve to have someone who can tell you all of this without having to hide it behind sarcasm and back-handed compliments, so… here I am. I don’t know if it’s working, but I’m trying.”
“And I’m grateful for it, really.”
“Hel, I’d be an awful person if I couldn’t even say it to you when you needed it. You don’t need to be grateful, I just need you to tell me the same when I need it. That’s how relationships work, right ? We help each other, comfort and care for each other. At least I think so.”
“Yes, Mad, that is how relationships work,” she chuckled. “Is that what this is now ? A relationship ?”
“I think we outgrew the term ‘friendship’ when we promised to stay together forever. So unless you have another idea…”
“I think we can stick to this one.”
“Does this mean we’re dating ?” she grinned.
“… Maybe ? I’ve never seen you so happy at the mention of dating, what happened to you ?”
“You’ve never seen me get the chance to date you. Dating anyone else isn’t the same, it’s not as good. This is great.”
“You’ve dated lots of people, Mad.”
“And did I ever look like I was happy to be there ?” she glared. “You’re the only one I’ve ever really wanted to date.”
“That can’t be true.”
“You underestimate how obsessed I am with you,” she said. “I’m serious. I spent most of my adult life wishing I was brave enough to say something to you about it. It was all extremely humiliating, really.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
“No, don’t do that. I don’t want you to apologize, I just want you to tell me if this is ok. If you’re ok with being with me and if I still need to apologize more. Because I’ll do it.”
“Please don’t. I got it, Mad, it’s fine. I know you didn’t want to have me admitted into a psych ward. But it just… takes time to heal. I know I’ve had years already, but… sometimes it gets to me, and sometimes it’s even worse and I need some time alone or else I… well, this happens. It’s still complicated. It’s not something I particularly want to talk about, so if we could just avoid it, I’d be glad.”
“Then I won’t talk about it again. And I’ll try to leave you some time when you need it.”
“I still want you close to me more than I want you away,” Helen muttered, barely looking at her.
“Well, that’s great, because you know I love attention. I will follow you around all day if I don’t get my kisses.”
Helen shot her a playful stare and kissed her then.
“Yeah, just like this,” Madeline grinned and pulled her in again, and for the first time everything between them felt right.