This was too familiar.
As much as Jo often reminded herself that Alfred never asked her to stay, she just as often forgot that he did actually ask her to stay and talk things through. He'd never been willing to bend on his choice - Zelda was it for him and she knew that, understood it on such a fundamental level that she'd never speak to him again if it meant he continued to be happy with her. But Alfred had been willing to be that friend for her, still. He just simply couldn't cross the line drawn by his pending engagement.
And Jo, if she was at all sane at the time, ought to have understood that.
And even now, as she looked at him with sad, tired eyes, Jo still struggled to fully accept his boundary. Not because she wanted things to be different or because she had some strange notion of something different happening between them, but because she had needed him in a way she'd never allowed herself to need anyone before and he hadn't chose her. It was a wound that ran so deep Jo wondered if it would ever fully close.
"Alfred, I - " need to leave. If she pushed hard enough he'd let her. Alfred had his limits, after all, and they were already standing precariously close to it. Jo opened her mouth to finish her sentence, her heart in her throat, but just as soon closed it.
This was too familiar. This was how everything turned to shambles between them.
She took a breath. "I need you to tell me what changed. If we have any hope of being friends ... I - I need to know what happened that day that changed everything so drastically for you."
As much as Jo often reminded herself that Alfred never asked her to stay, she just as often forgot that he did actually ask her to stay and talk things through. He'd never been willing to bend on his choice - Zelda was it for him and she knew that, understood it on such a fundamental level that she'd never speak to him again if it meant he continued to be happy with her. But Alfred had been willing to be that friend for her, still. He just simply couldn't cross the line drawn by his pending engagement.
And Jo, if she was at all sane at the time, ought to have understood that.
And even now, as she looked at him with sad, tired eyes, Jo still struggled to fully accept his boundary. Not because she wanted things to be different or because she had some strange notion of something different happening between them, but because she had needed him in a way she'd never allowed herself to need anyone before and he hadn't chose her. It was a wound that ran so deep Jo wondered if it would ever fully close.
"Alfred, I - " need to leave. If she pushed hard enough he'd let her. Alfred had his limits, after all, and they were already standing precariously close to it. Jo opened her mouth to finish her sentence, her heart in her throat, but just as soon closed it.
This was too familiar. This was how everything turned to shambles between them.
She took a breath. "I need you to tell me what changed. If we have any hope of being friends ... I - I need to know what happened that day that changed everything so drastically for you."