Fandom: Private Practice
Characters: Cooper Freedman/Violet Turner
Word Count: ~400
Summary: They’re lying, now. They’re hiding things and keeping secrets and splitting apart, really, and it hurts her more and more every day.
A/N: I don't really know what this is. It started out as one thing, moved to another, and then the end came out of nowhere. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.
She hates it.
They act like it’s all normal again, like they’re back to the way that they were. And everyone’s buying it.
She’s not quite sure what this says about her friends, but lets it go for now.
They still have lunch together and laugh at silly things and gossip about the office drama. They still go out to the occasional dinner or see the occasional movie or take the occasional walk down the beach, drinks in hand.
But it’s not the same.
She wants to blame Charlotte, she really does, but she knows blame doesn’t fall that easily.
They’re lying, now. They’re hiding things and keeping secrets and splitting apart, really, and it hurts her more and more every day. But he looks happy, he might actually be happy, and she can’t tell how she feels about that.
She curls her feet under her on the couch, pulls the sleeves of her old college sweatshirt over her hands, and takes a sip of her wine. An old rerun of Friends murmurs quietly in the background, and she almost laughs at the irony of it all.
She takes another sip instead, and then refills the glass. She pays attention to the television for all of ten seconds before grabbing the remote and shutting it off, because life isn’t that simple, not at all: life keeps going even after the credits roll.
After setting the half-empty wineglass on the coffee table, she picks up her cell phone. She dials his number, hesitates, and then flips the phone shut, tossing it onto the other side of the sofa.
She breathes deep for a moment, running her hands through her hair. Then she downs the rest of the wine, grabs her car keys, and pulls on an old pair of sneakers. She drives to the beach and lays out the blanket from her trunk across the sand. Sitting cross-legged, she stares out at the water, the tide slowly rolling in, and tries to not think about anything at all.
A faint shadow falls across her and she turns, mouth wide. He smiles. “Hey.”
“How did you-”
“I just did.” He sits down next to her, and she leans to rest her head on his shoulder.
She sighs, then says, softly, “I miss us.”
His arm wraps around her shoulder, and he sighs, too. “So do I.”
She feels him press his lips to the top of her head, and she closes her eyes and lets some of the lies fall away.
It’s still not the same, not yet, but it’s close.