• Title - Implode
• Author name – grr in girl
• Rating – R for now, it may change, and I’ll indicate it.
• Disclaimer – So, yeah, I don’t own these characters, although I obviously love them and that’s why I’m writing this.
• Feedback- Sure, I’d like any feedback you’d like to provide.
• Summary- The story begins in what would be Buffy’s fourth season, but after Willow and Tara met each other, and after Oz’s comeback. Those are just the timelines, because I altered the situation.
• Notes- There’s angst and there's deepness. I like to analyze characters' thoughts and feelings.
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Implode
1
Cream whiskers weren’t the most attractive thing a girl could wear on her face. She set down the cup of coffee and wiped her lips with a paper napkin. Then, she proceeded to mentally criticize her choice of clothes: black jeans, black boots, and new red shirt. What was I thinking? Or was I even thinking at all? Bad Willow. As if her use of cleavage-y goodness was going to solve something. Part of her knew that blaming the clothes was just an excuse. If the date went badly, it would be her fault, not the clothes’.
Date? The word hit her hard, since this couldn’t be called a date. Meeting was okay, get-together was maybe a better choice of words, but date… It made her think of picnics, dinners, movies, aimless walks... The images appeared in her mind like flashes before she was able to restrain them and tuck them back in a corner or her brain. No, this was no date. Coffee, she granted, looking at her beverage, the drink of non- relationships. Adequately, there was no relationship to speak of. This coffee was just milk, sugar, and powdered grain.
…With a speck of my powdered heart, she thought; stir it all and serve it hot. Now, she knew she was being unfair, victimizing herself as the sufferer. Deep down, she knew that Tara had suffered, and was suffering now. Just because Tara was stronger and knew how to keep low the flame of temper, it didn’t mean that she felt less. Tara had tried to be around her, no matter how it crushed her heart, and how had she, Willow, repaid her? With bitterness, snapping at her, she remembered, with a stabbing pain in her heart, until I forced her out of my life. She had preferred not seeing Tara at all, not wanting to be reminded of certain… stuff, certain moments. But those moments were already imprinted in her mind, and not seeing Tara hadn’t erased them.
There were certain subtle, little things that brought back memories with such strength that now and again she had to stop and sit down. They were things that were detected by her senses immediately, but rarely lasted more than a second: sometimes it was a scent; sometimes it was the sight of a red rose; sometimes, the laugh of a passerby. However, they lasted inside her much longer: sensations playing with her feelings like children with a Frisbee. Those sensations and memories menaced to choke her. That confusion, that rush of feelings, was both pleasurable and unbearable for her.
Yes, she was still confused, but she was sure about what she had done, and she knew that it was only fair that Tara should know. However, there ended the things she knew for sure; from there on, there was only doubt. Many doubts, in fact. An equation with… uh, many variables; an equation she could never solve just by scrunching her mind because she was dealing with people and feelings. Feelings… and Tara, the biggest unknown of all.
She checked her watch for the thousandth time, not because Tara was late, but because she wanted to know how many minutes of life she had left. It felt like a countdown to her, because the moment that Tara appeared she would be brain-dead and uncontrollable.
Five pm on her watch and on the Espresso Pump’s wall clock. Countdown was over. Willow covered her watch with her sleeve and placed her now sweaty hands flat on the table. Relax, she commanded herself.
Suddenly, she felt watched, and instantly knew that her instincts were right. She’s here, Willow thought, raising her head and moving her eyes towards her left, where the glass-door of the Espresso Pump was. There, with her hand on the door handle, was Tara. Her pupils were enormous, and fixed on her. Willow allowed herself to gulp, but did nothing more. On the one hand, she was afraid to scare that vision away; on the other, she had to appear calm, mature, and in control, even if she was burning up inside.
But the fire could only grow; she knew that the moment Tara moved away from the door (so that a group of people could exit the coffee bar) and began walking towards her. Oh God, she muttered mentally, again regretting her choice of clothes. I shouldn’t have chosen this damn shirt, there must be a reason I never wore it before. Again, she told herself that the clothes thing was just an excuse.
However, she just could see that Tara had fussed about her clothes too. The purple skirt that hung low, touching her ankles, the sandals, the white shirt that gripped her waist and fit her like a glove… Okay, she could always be wrong, but she felt that Tara had also been standing in front of her closet more than half an hour. And the hair… Tara was wearing it bunched up in a bun, with several stray strands framing the sides of her face and touching her shoulders.
Willow followed Tara’s progress around the Espresso, clenching her jaws to avoid gaping, and pressing her hands harder on the table. Finally, when Tara reached her, she managed to give a little wave and ease her jawbone-pressure.
“Hi,” Willow said.
“Hi.”
That voice. She had heard it over the phone the day before, when she had called Tara to do this meet-up thing, but it wasn’t the same. Her voice seemed to be a touch deeper now. This was real-life voice and image, and she thanked God that she was already sitting down. Sitting down…
“Oh, sorry,” she gestured nervously towards the other chair, “Please, um…”
Tara dragged the chair back and sat down in front of her. She joined her hands and placed them on the table. Her blue eyes seemed to be dancing, jumping from here to there, not fixing on Willow during more than a second. Willow felt sorry for this, and she knew that it was her fault.
The waitress approached them, took Tara’s order, and left. Silence. Willow bit her lower lip. Come on! This is supposed to be the easy part! The “how are you”, “how did your tests go” bit.
“How…?” she began, taking a big breath, “How’s everything?” Oh, that’s nice, she scolded herself, “I mean… you. How are you?”
“F-f-fine…” Tara answered, shrugging.
Of course she’s not, Willow thought, shaking her head. This was her worry; that the talking thing turned into the awkward-silence thing, which she was desperate to fill, but she didn’t know how, or if she should. Should she keep on asking banal things? She didn’t know; she had no plan, no design, no handbook to clear up her doubts. This was Tara. Even with a handbook set in front of her, she would have no idea of what to do and how to act. She either transformed either into a blabbering fool or a gaping codfish.
“And your… your tests?”
Tara shrugged again. “D-d-difficult but they went w-w-well, I think. I h-h-had time to study.”
There, in a simple sentence muttered by Tara, was the truth. Willow hardly noticed the waitress coming back and placing a cup of coffee in front of Tara. Of course she’s had time to study! Well, I’ve been ignoring her for such a long time! She felt the need of apologizing, even if she wouldn’t be granted forgiveness.
“Tara, I called you because I want to tell you I’m sorry. I haven’t treated you fairly. I just disappeared and…”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t h-h-have to. I understand; you’ve been b-b-busy…”
“Listen to me, please.”
Willow raised her hands from the table and set them around her cup because she didn’t know what to do with them. Tara was right, but also she wasn’t. She thought that she had been busy with… Oz and, in a way, it had been like that, but not the way Tara thought. Also, she wasn’t going to let her do this, just say that it didn’t matter and pretend that she didn’t even have to forgive her. Willow did want to be forgiven, but not without explaining herself.
She needed this pause to organize her thoughts and set down her feelings before the conversation metamorphosed either into complete silence or a discussion. She didn’t want either of those things, and she knew that they were about to fall into one of the two. Her nervousness about to explode was at the brim of provoking an argument, and Tara’s returned stutter could provoke silence.
“I’m listening, Willow.” Tara said, sounding a tad surer.
“Okay, look. I was busy, up here,” she tapped the side of her head, “but I still could’ve hung out with you and stuff. There’s no excuse for what I did. I… went to him and…”
“And you f-f-forgot about me.”
“What? No!” she rubbed her eyes with her hands, trying to get her thoughts clear “Of course I didn’t forget.”
“But you d-d-didn’t answer my calls…” Tara left her lips open, as if she was going to say more, but she kept quiet.
“I avoided you,” Willow dropped her gaze down at the table, concentrating on the little lines scraping its worn-out surface “I shouldn’t have, I knew I was doing the wrong thing, but I did it anyway. And now I guess I want to apologize, ‘cause I hurt you. I had two reasons for coming here. The first one’s to say that I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t… forgive me.”
After a couple of seconds, Willow raised her eyes again and collided with Tara’s, blue and intense. She looked shaken, and vulnerable, and Willow didn’t know what to do to alleviate her.
“I don’t h-h-have to say that I f-forgive you. I already h-h-have.
She couldn’t hide her surprise. This was unexpected; she hadn’t imagined that Tara would forgive her; she’d imagined that, if she did, it would only be after a long time. She dared to smile slightly, and was pleased to see that Tara had tried the tiniest of smiles.
“W-w-what were you busy with?” Tara asked.
“Huh?”
“Up here,” Tara mimicked her previous gesture.
“Oh. Oz. Stuff...”
The blonde nodded and took a sip of her coffee. Willow sensed her vulnerability more acutely now. She thought she even saw Tara cringe slightly, masking the movement with the drinking of coffee.
“I hurt you,” she blurted out “I hurt you again.”
“W-w-what’s the second thing?” Tara asked, shaking her head “The second reason f-f-for coming here.”
“I… I wanted to tell you that… I left him.”
There was a pause, and it felt never-ending to Willow. She looked down, played with her fingers, let her eyes wander around the coffee-house; she played some more with her fingers, and then settled her eyes on Tara. The blonde was looking at her with the most quizzical expression in her face. Maybe she hadn’t understood…
“Oz… I left him.”
“W-w-when?” Tara asked, finally, after another gap of silence.
“Two days ago.”
“Are… are y-y-you alright?”
How could she still worry about her well-being? She guessed she was alright. It was for the better, really. When Oz had appeared out of the blue, back in Sunnydale, her life had stopped. Seeing him had been a shock, and all she wanted was that the world would stop spinning so that she could sit down and think about this. But the world kept its spinning motion, and Oz wanted her back. He had talked to Xander, and Xander had appropriately informed him that Willow had no new guy. In other circumstances, the comment would’ve been funny. But this was her life, and it had been too easy to close her eyes and let go, let herself spin back to Oz.
At least, that worked in theory. Tara had been there when Oz had come back. Everyone had been astonished to see him, but Tara had just excused herself and left. No shock, no surprise. It was as if Tara knew what Willow would do if Oz ever returned.
She knew, and still…
“B-b-but…”
“Why?” Willow asked, knowing what Tara wanted to know.
Tara nodded shyly and waited. Her expression was still mysterious: Willow couldn’t read it. It was as if Tara was hiding whatever she was feeling, but she could just barely contain it. She’s afraid, Willow thought.
“I couldn’t…” she swallowed, "Whenever he… touched me, I had to move away.”
God, this was so hard to explain… She began wondering if she could talk about those things. Also, she was worried about hurting Tara once more, but Tara calmed her. She felt her hand rest on hers for a moment, just a second (as if the hand was wary), but it was enough. She could speak easier now.
At first, Oz had understood, or he thought he understood. He gathered that Willow needed time to trust him again, after what he had done to her and his long absence. But it wasn’t that. Willow tried, but couldn’t kiss him either. She shied away from every contact, which obviously bugged him. He didn’t understand what was going on, and it took Willow some time to discern the exact reason. It wasn’t that she needed time, and it wasn’t bitterness towards Oz’s betrayal.
“It just… felt wrong, and I couldn’t shake the feeling off. One day, the answer just popped inside my head,” Willow said “I wasn’t in love with him anymore. That’s why it felt wrong. So, I just… ended it.”
“The important thing is that you’re… h-h-happy.”
Tara’s face was an even bigger mystery than before. Now she seemed to be containing a whirlwind of emotions, and Willow could see that she was barely able.
“Tara…”
She wanted to reach out and grasp her hand, but she hesitated and her chance was lost. Tara sat back on her chair, with her back straight and her hands out of Willow’s reach. She’s done it on purpose, Willow thought, but she couldn’t understand why.
“Aren’t you h-h-happy?” Tara asked.
Do I look happy? She was so confused… and Tara looked hurt again. God, what do I have to say? I don’t understand. I just want… What do I want? Willow remembered her life a month ago. She was happy. Okay, she was feeling a lot of confusing things, but she could call herself happy. Oz had left her, yes, but her life was beginning to look good again. Oz’s return had only brought loss, instead of gain. She still felt as if she had lost something; no, she was definitely not happy.
“I don’t know…” Willow muttered “I don’t know what I’m…”
“F-f-feeling?”
“Yeah.”
Tara nodded, gravely. After a couple of minutes, she pushed her chair backwards. What, was she leaving?
“Tara.”
“You know I’m h-h-here. You know, if you n-n-need anything. Talking or… whatever.”
“You’re… you’re leaving?” she asked, her voice tiny with what could only be fear.
“Y-y-yeah, I gotta…” Tara slipped her hand into her pocket “Here…”
“No, I’m paying.”
She nodded again and smiled very briefly before standing up. Willow’s fear transformed into terror, and she didn’t know why. She wanted to do something, anything that might keep her there.
“You invite me next time, okay?” Willow peeped, hopefully, as if the fate of the world depended on a positive answer.
“Okay.”
With that, Tara turned around and left the Espresso Pump. Willow waited until she had closed the glass-door behind her to stand up and run to the waitress. She paid for the two coffees hurriedly, told the girl to keep the change, and dashed her way out of the Espresso.
Once outside, her eyes scanned the street very detective-like. Finally, she identified Tara’s familiar silhouette walking down the street. Her head was bowed. What should I do now? She thought, feeling immensely sorry. All I do is hurt her.
I love angsty 
Keep them updates coming 
Update please. 
but I love the angst 
You're welcome.
I know i would, even with the inevitable pain of seeing willow again.!