Work Text:
“Florence. I don’t think I can be with you anymore.”
It was the feeling of unspeakable guilt that Anatoly had sat Florence down for, gnawing at him ever since that night on the mountain. He had been awfully good at shirking around this in the past, at convincing himself that he could live with himself like this, that this time he will finally grow into this relationship. But it never happened. His already awful insomnia was worsened by this weight, so much so that he couldn’t take it and sat with Florence on their apartment couch that evening to let everything rise to the surface.
“So you don’t love me, then?” It came from a place of incredulousness, not of hurt.
Christ…He buried his face in his hands.
“I-I love you more than anything, Florence…believe it or not, I do care about you.
You’re so charming and clever. I enjoy your presence every day and every night.”
Florence nodded slowly.
“But for these past few months that we are together, I doubt myself. I’m already unfaithful to Svetlana, and I had long since told myself that I had never loved her (but I don’t even know if that is true) and I was attracted to you but…something was missing. Something that was never there, and I think is still missing. You can’t have loved me because I had nothing to give you.”
He stumbled; this was hard to put into words. “I have read how people describe their romantic lives, thi--this (how do you say it) bud that is blooming and blossoming and shining inside because of their significant other. And I cannot see eye to eye with them. But there is something--something here, but I don’t know what to call it.”
He swallowed.
“And as ridiculous as it sounds, I have convinced myself that you only came to me because I was not Freddie, that I was your break from the poor bastard. I’m not bombastic, loving, nothing like that. He is everything and I am nothing.
Sorry. None of this is making sense, but I don’t know how else I can put it. I just wanted to tell you, Florence, I just want to be honest with you.”
Florence pulled the corners of her lips, which gave into an unexpected smile.
“I’m sorry Anatoly…” Her giggle melted into a sigh.
“Sorry…this has nothing to do with you. It’s just that it’s so funny you bring up Freddie.”
She scooted closer to him on the sofa. The air stood still around them.
“You know we never slept together, right.”
The Russian was taken aback, though none of it was shown on his face.
“I would have assumed based on the rumors, and well…” he didn’t finish the thought.
“Yes, you would have thought…everyone would have thought… it’s just in our nature as man and woman, right? But no, we’ve never had sex. I guess you could say we were intimate at times, but Freddie never let me get too close.”
She chuckled to herself. “We did share a bed to save money when I was starting out as his second when we were traveling abroad to chess competitions.”
Anatoly brushed the cushions with his palm.
“All I want to say is: yes, you’re not Freddie, but that’s not why I love you.”
She brought her arms around Anatoly. “And I love the way you love.”