Jesse hadn't spoken. No, worse than that, he'd immediately gotten up and dressed without so much as a glance in her direction. A silent tear streamed down her face as his back remained to her, one Fallon quickly wiped away and pretended hadn't existed. More would come as soon as she was within her own flat. More would come, and she didn't know if they would ever stop.

She took her clothes from him in quiet resignation. Jesse hadn't fought her on her decision, hadn't once forced her to realize why his was the better love. Had he known then that their hearts would break? If so, why hadn't he gone when she asked him to stay? If he knew with such certainty that he had nothing left to say, then why reply to the few letters they exchanged? Why give her directions to use his floo? A million questions to be unanswered. A million dreams laid to waste.

The rip in her trousers caused a fresh wave of sobs to bubble in her chest. Fallon had to go, had to spare herself breaking down in front of him again. Last time, he'd held and comforted her throughout the night, she doubted he would grant her the same wish twice. Fallon hastily buttoned her shirt, missing a button or two in the process but knowing she could fix it once home. She could hold it together that long.

Once dressed, Fallon stood and took him in one last time. While it was possible they would see one another at work, they would never be this open with one another again. The chasm had already formed and was deepening by the second. "I wanted it to be you," she voiced in a pained whisper. If only, if only, if only. Then, after tearing her gaze from his, Fallon left him alone in his room to blindly search for the floo.

Home. She had to go home.