She could hardly remember the scramble to get her clothes together, could hardly remember running out the door. She wasn’t aware of much at all, really, until she’d caught up with Tara, grabbed her arm, pulled them both to a halt.
Oh, goddess, tears--
And: “Don’t touch me!”
And Tara was pulling away, stumbling backwards, crying and shouting, “How could you? How could you?”
“Tara! God, Tara, I’m so--I--”
Her world was spinning, everything off kilter, only a few words really cutting through it, like “trusted” and “loved” and... and all the accusations, all true... “With Giles? God, Willow--”
“Tara, please!”
“I thought-- I asked you if anything was wrong-- I don’t... I don’t understand.”
Tried to touch her, her hand, her arm. Had to... but Tara was still pulling away, like she was made of fire.
“Tara... I’m so sorry!”
Anger now, flashing in those teary eyes, “Sorry for what, Willow? Sorry you did it? Or sorry I found out?”
“I-- I--”
Too many feelings, too much everything. Too many lies and half-truths and hopes and wants...
Tara was backing away again, a few slow steps, shaking her head.
“Too long, Willow. Wrong answer. I-- I’m not... I can’t-- I thought... I thought we had something. Something special.”
“We did! We do! Tara... baby, I... I love you.”
Tara’s arms wrapped around herself, like a shield, blocking her out. Like a cross warding off a vampire. It burned.
“Then why? Why?”
What answer was there? What to say to erase that pain, bring down those barriers?
And in all this, her body was still trembling, still flushed with the reaction from him. Still remembering his lips, his warmth, his arms... the tinge of desperation in his voice, always there when he said he loved her.
“I don’t know!” she cried, suddenly, because it was the only truth she could find. “I don’t... I’m so... I don’t know anything. I don’t know... I don’t know what I am, who I am... I don’t know what I want.”
Saying it aloud was like opening the floodgates, feeling it all rush in, and she could suddenly barely breathe through the sobs, was suddenly holding herself tight, arms wrapped around her middle like if she held on hard enough maybe she wouldn’t come apart at the seams.
“I’m so scared, Tara. I’m so confused. I just-- I just wish... I don’t even know! I love you and... and I love him... and it’s all so--”
“You love him?”
Tara was quieter now, calmer, as though Willow’s own breakdown had eased her own.
“I--” Willow sniffled, breathed deep, tears still flowing, but slower, “I think so... I... I know I do. But... Tara, I love you, too.”
But now she wasn’t looking at her. She was looking away, at the sidewalk, at the cars, at the trees, but not at Willow. Willow’s tears dried slowly, she couldn’t move, couldn’t cry anymore. Something was happening, something dreadful.
When Tara did look at her, finally, her eyes were dry.
“I told you a long time ago, Willow. You should be with the one you love.”
And then she was walking away, leaving Willow frozen. Horrified.
The sight of her retreating back burned across her retinas. Something deep inside was being pulled along with her, stretching to the breaking point as she walked away.
Then Willow knew what she had to do. It was so simple.
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