February 18, 2019

The natural light coming in through the huge panes of the glass windows bathed the coffee house in a gorgeous glow of warmth.

Eliska glanced around the nearly-empty building as she twisted the cardboard sleeve around her coffee cup, a habit she'd developed years before. Earlier that morning, she had driven down in a rental car from a different part of California to L.A. She wasn't planning to stay.

She and Jonah both knew what was going to happen when he arrived after his rehearsal was over. True to their characters, they were going to talk everything over in person.

Jonah had come to terms with how distance had pushed he and Eliksa apart. After holding onto an unhealthy situation for the both of them for so many months, he finally allowed himself to. It hurt due to how much stress he had put on not giving up weeks before, but putting it off didn't make anything better in the end.

Eliska wasn't nervous. Dread wasn't attacking her stomach. She didn't feel like she was going to be sick. She didn't want to scream or breakdown. She just felt nostalgic for all the beautiful moments of her and Jonah's relationship. And that was what she was thinking about when he walked into the building.

She stood up and hugged him when he reached her. It was instinct for both of them and she was relieved that it didn't feel awkward.

The table was a small square, one chair tucked into each side. He sat in the seat next to her, angled towards her a little. He had coffee with him already, no doubt from earlier in the morning.

"Hey, El," he said. He looked tired, but then again, he always looked tired.

"Hi, Jo."

His gaze didn't waver from hers.

"I don't know how to do this," she said quietly. He shook his head a little.

"I don't either."

She waited several moments, collecting her thoughts.

"Jonah, we're like... the same person," she started. "You and I, we want to be together all the time."

He nodded, glancing down at his hands.

"And we simply can't be right now. I have... work, school, college in the future. And you have your career, your best friends, and so many people who adore you, all your fans."

He bit back a small smile.

"I know," he said, and then added, "And I'm sorry if you ever... made you feel like I didn't care about you while I was busy."

"You didn't, Jo. Nothing was ever your fault." He sent her a look that conveyed it wasn't ever her fault either. "I never felt that way, just... kind of empty, like I said a long time ago. I can't describe it, but I felt like I was always holding my breath. That sounds dramatic," she backtracked. "Like we were both always gripping onto the next time we would get to see each other instead of enjoying every moment we could have together."

"I felt that way, too." His voice was softer than it usually was. "Every day would be nonstop movement—waking up, getting ready, interviews, sightseeing, meet and greets, sound checks, shows, clean up, tear down—and then I would have a few moments to myself and everything about us would come back. I wanted... every second, I wanted you there, and I felt terrible. Like I couldn't give you what you deserve with my time and everything else."

Eliska felt her chest tighten. She had been thinking the exact same thing about herself in relation to him.

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the surface of the table to rub his eyes.

"I don't know," he said, words muffled by his hand, "Maybe we just met at the wrong time."

"No," Eliska said, "we didn't."

He looked up at her but she didn't explain herself.

Though they had bad times, there were so many good ones. Timing didn't have anything to do with that. Timing didn't affect how much she loved him.

"How do Corbyn and Christina do it?" he said after a long pause. "How do any couples do well with long distance relationships?"

"Well, they're different people. They have different thoughts and they deal with everything in different ways, and... we're not them."

He watched as she moved the sleeve of her coffee cup around. She was doing that when they met in Chicago, he recalled, after he bought her drink as an apology for his first impression.

With numb realization, it dawned on him that nearly a year had passed since that day.

"So is this it?" he asked. His tone, she noticed, was not condescending, though it did hold a sense of finality. "Are we...."

She stared at the table, eyes following the curving patterns of the oak. She shifted in her seat and breathed deeply.

Defeated. Tired. Is this it?

Finally, she met Jonah's eyes. She swallowed, and nodded once.

"Yes," she said, and for the first time, there was pain in her voice.

She wanted to say, For now. Maybe someday, our schedules won't be so busy. Maybe, in the future, we'll be able to figure this out.

She didn't.

Jonah's mind was turning over itself, but he forced it to calm down. He reached forward and took her hand in his, wanting to hold it one last time.

She smiled at him, so gently. Not her half-smile. That, he knew, belonged to their past times of banter and exchanges of witty comments.

"I don't regret anything," he said, and he meant it.

Her heart was overflowing with affection for him. He had the ability to make her feel more than she ever imagined she was capable of.

"I don't either."

And that was it.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest when they stood up, his head resting on top of hers. Her arms went around his back, the realization that this could be the last time she would ever touch him rushing through her mind.

Eventually, they pulled apart.

"Be safe driving back to your hotel, okay?" he said, his hand still on her arm. She looked up at him. Even in parting, he was watching out for her.

"I will." She picked up her coffee. "Good luck with tour. And everything after that. You and the guys deserve the world."

"Thank you," he said, because he couldn't think quickly enough to express how much those words had meant to him.

It felt wrong to him that he didn't feel completely heartbroken. He had just broken up with the girl he loved, but they were parting ways in a peaceful, non aggressive manner, a gentle way out a relationship that was no longer healthy. He would miss her, he was going to miss her so much, but he knew what had to be done.

"Goodbye, El," he said.

"Bye, Jo."

She held his gaze for a couple seconds, and then her eyes flicked downward. His hand slipped from her arm as she stepped away.

And just like the first day they met, she walked out of the building, leaving him staring after her.