Title: "That He's Mine"
Genre: some Angst, Romance
Summary: As Tori sings the last song for her final play at Hollywood Arts High, she thinks of the boy that had always tried to make her life seem like Eden.
Notes: "The Apple Tree" and the song "What Makes Me Love Him?" are properties of their rightful owners. Anything that's publicly recognizable is not mine.
Tori dutifully recited her monologue to the audience, letting the boundary between fiction and reality melt momentarily upon the order of the script. The floral house dress that she wore cling to her skin closely as she continued, not allowing even the warm Californian wind to give relief to her body. However, she decided that her attention should be spent towards her last performance as a lead in Hollywood Arts' spring play.
As soon as she finished, Robbie, who sported a worn out paint shirt, began speaking his lines. She listened how he-the character he played, rather-admitted that he could not bear her silence.
Absentmindedly, she smiled. Who would have thought that in their senior showcase before graduation, she would be Eve and he would be her Adam? Above all people.
She began again when he finished, looking at the sky pensively as if her lines were written on the stars. "There's too much stillness in this house," she finished her monologue. She noticed Robbie move towards the makeshift garden behind her, so she took her cue to follow him. "Adam," she called to him. "I've been thinking…"
"Ugh," Robbie groaned, handing her a pot of sunflowers.
"I thought that when we die, we die together," she said, taking the vessel.
"That is a subject I'd rather not dis…"
"Wait. I'm just saying that I hope if one of us goes first, my prayer is that I will go."
"I told you that I don't want to have this conversation," Robbie reiterated.
"You're strong, and I'm weak," she reasoned. Her heart skipped a beat when it recognized her next statement. "You're much more necessary to me that I am to you."
"That is not true."
"Yes, it's true. It's always been true."
"No, listen," Robbie-Adam, actually-changed the subject, evident by the emersion of a goofy grin on his lips. "I got a good one. Why do I always wear brown suspenders?"
She laughed, like how she had done countless of times before whenever Robbie, sans role attached, tells her a joke that wasn't funny. "That one's my favorite," she said.
He scratched his head, grinning timidly. "I forgot," he said. The audience laughed. Then, for a few seconds, his eyes were on hers, as if they were the only two people in the world. Contrary to what she hoped for, he left so suddenly, ending briefly a what-could-have-been.
"Life without him would not be life at all," she said, meaning it. Her mouth and her throat worked together to deliver another slew of words, but her mind was somewhere else.
Ironic. Everything was. She and the character she played asked the same question. Why does she love him? For the most part, they spent their high school years together resolving misunderstandings that they have. Like when she told him four months ago that no matter how many bad relationships he saved her from, she was never going to like him.
What a big bowl of stupid she was for saying that.
The senior orchestra began to play the music, but she was still thinking of how much she regretted breaking his heart.
What makes me love him? It's not his singing. At first, she thought that she began seeing him in a different light because guilt was eating her from inside out. After all, he had learned to appropriately distance himself from her. But so much was her yearning for to gain back his company for it to be a result of remorse.
What makes me love him? It's not his learning. She was happy for him when he told her that he was accepted to Julliard. But, a part of her died after knowing that he'd be thousands of miles away from her. Soon, he would meet other people, another girl, while tugging behind him his guitar, his suitcase, Rex, and his broken memory of her.
No one occasion he's used me ill. She may have scolded him hundreds of times for being excessively fond of her, but she failed to understand how he did those things out of innocent mistake, or of his concern for her. She shouldn't have pushed him away.
She finished the song with finesse and remembered every lyric of it, especially when Robbie walked past her.
What did make me like him? she asked herself. She smiled, the edges of her mouth nursing disappointment. He was mine, she concluded. Had always been.
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