Gravity

By Jen

She entered the room, her eyes scanning the crowd in every direction. It was late on a Wednesday night, but she knew he was here. She could sense him.

She descended the stairs, still searching for him. Three stairs from the ground, she saw him –standing right in front of her, looking unimpressed.

"How did you find me?" he asked, completely perplexed.

"Simple. I know you." At this he snorted, trying to contain his laughter. She could see it on his face. "Don't worry" she said to his laughter, "I'm just as stumped as you are. Where did I pick you up? When? But then, if you take everything back to the basics, I know you – perhaps better than I know myself."

"What are you doing here then?" he grunted, breaking the silence that had enclosed them.

"I came to see you." She replied.

"Well, I don't want to see you." He retorted with sudden anger, pushing past her up the stairs.

"I don't care – I'm going to speak to you tonight whether you like it or not" she responded whilst taking the stairs two at a time to catch up to him.

Suddenly he halted and turned around to face her, his eyes blazing and a frown on his face.

"And just how do you propose to do that, when I'm not listening to you?"

"You're listening now aren't you?" she responded, with a slight grin on her face. His frown grew as he turned and continued on his journey out of the building.

"Okay, so light humour isn't going to work," she muttered, jogging after him, as he and his long legs entered the foyer. People were scattered around the room all absorbed in their own conversations, too busy to notice the scene that was playing out. "Would you please just give me five minutes?" she called to him. He continued to walk, not once acknowledging her.

"You're my gravity," she yelled to him, from across the room. He stopped.

"What?" he replied without turning around.

"You're my gravity," she repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. This time, he turned around. She walked towards him, halting when she was no closer than a metre.

"You're what keeps me together. You allow me enough room to jump," here she jumped ever so slightly, "but I know that in the end you'll pull me back down, and keep me safe on the earth where I'm grounded and secure."

"But don't you want to fly? To be free?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

She looked up at him. His green eyes that were focused wholly on her, as if she were the only person in the room. His dark brown hair which flopped somewhere round his ears. He was an entire head taller than her, but they fitted together perfectly.

They had fitted together perfectly.

She thought about what he said and she loved him all the more for saying it. He knew that she loved to feel weightless, without a care in the world. He knew that she loved the feeling of falling, the inescapable feeling that there is no where to go. He knew that she loved being free.

"If being free means that I have to give up you, then I'd lock myself in jail to keep you," she replied, moving slightly toward him and taking his hand. "I love you. I love everything about you. I need you to be free."

He stared at her. It didn't make sense to him. Less than three weeks ago she was yelling at him, screaming at him to leave her alone and give her space. He put his other hand lightly on her cheek, tracing it as if trying to memorise her features.

"What changed?" he whispered.

"Me," she replied, just as quietly.


She sat on the stairs in the rain, feeling the water trickled down her face and drench her clothes. The tears that were falling from her eyes just as rapidly, mixed with water, surrounding her with things that she didn't want.

A stranger walked by, rugged up for the cold weather and sheltered under an umbrella.

"Miss, are you alright?"

She looked up and acknowledged them with a small smile. "I'm fine – just looking for something I lost."

"Do you need any help?" the stranger enquired.

"No. This, I need to find by myself." She replied, standing up and taking her keys out. "But thank you for offering," she continued before she opened the door and let herself into the cold, dark townhouse.

She entered the house, and turned on every light she passed, as if trying to give life to the house that she herself did not feel. She turned on the radio and music filtered through the air. She barely registered what was actually playing. She felt numb – the rain and cold made her body numb. Her actions had made her feelings numb.

As she ran a bath she thought about the last 2 weeks, 5 days and 9 hours. She laughed when she realised this. For someone she didn't love, for someone who held her back, she certainly missed him.

She lowered herself into the warm water and strawberry smelling bubbles, relaxing as it started to warm her, from the outside in. she closed her eyes, and tried to force herself forget who she was, and just why she was so cold.

10 minutes later, as she refilled the warm water, adding more bubbles then necessary, she reflected just what had happened to her life so that she had come to this point. When she left university 3 years ago, she was ready to take on the world. Her degree allowed her to take on a job at the local art gallery as the curator's assistant, and a year later she was in charge of the prestigious Liam Walker and Co. Collection.

It was here that she met him. The hot shot lawyer who aggravated her in ways that she had never known. He was making his way up the firm quickly, in much the same way she was in the art world. They encountered each other often, as she needed him to aid her in the purchasing of the artworks. Her jobs for him were small, mainly contract work but he was the best negotiator at the firm and when it came to Liam Walker's money, the best was needed. When working, they worked well together, they could get any artwork at any price she though reasonable. Their fights were infamous around the building, often entertaining their co-workers.

One day, 6 months into her job, they were arguing, doing what they did best. Somehow she had pissed him off more than she had ever done before and they were screaming at each other like no other argument before. She was just about to win the argument, when he grabbed her face, pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers.

The rest, as they say, was history. They became inseperable, still arguing just continuously, if not more, than before. However, now their arguments ended in similar ways to their first kiss.

That was over 18 months ago.

She had never been very committed to anyone in her life. She loved her parents and her sister but she didn't depend on anyone. She didn't want to depend on anyone. Dependence meant giving away her freedom – the one thing she loved most in the world. She wasn't going to start now, with a relationship with a guy which will probably die anyway. A relationship that has died already.

Yet how is it, that in the last 3 weeks, 5 months and 9 hours, and all the freedom in the world had made her feel cramped.

She didn't understand. It didn't make sense. She wasn't supposed to need him. She wasn't supposed to miss him. She wasn't supposed to depend on him.

But she did. She did need him, she did miss him, and she did depend on him. He gave her freedom – freedom to move, dream, fly. But he also gave her security. Security to be herself, to laugh, to fight and to cry. He made her. He was everything she wanted, everything she needed.

And she had pushed him away, thinking he tied her down. She had to fix this, she had to tell him, she had to love him, she thought as she climbed out of the bath.

She had to depend on him.


"I need you" she whispered, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms you. "I need you to be me."

She breathed in deeply, smelling the scent that was so decidedly him. "I'm so sorry for pushing you away, for not realising what was in front of me the whole time. I love you. So much. Please tell me the offers still open" she pleaded, looking up into his eyes.

"The offer was always there. I was just waiting for you to realise" he replied, sliding the ring onto her finger, a ring that fitted perfectly.

AN: Thank you for reading. Sorry about the ending. I'm not very good at those.