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hotchs-bitch · 2 years

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Breaking Up Slowly [angst]

Summary: You and Aaron are happy, but it turns out that you have very different dreams for the future. When you try to discuss what your life together looks like, it’s the beginning of the end.

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 11k

Warnings: THIS IS ANGST. This isn’t a happy fairytale ending, so be warned! Reader doesn’t want kids so please tread carefully if that’s a trigger of any kind. Other warnings include a reference to sex, swearing, mentions of Haley, a bit of arguing, reader having a self-deprecating outlook on the situation, and a large amount of legal liberties being taken at the end. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: seriously y’all, this is slowburn’s evil twin, and I mean that in the most drawn out & sadistic way possible. There’s a LOT of happy love on the dash right now for Valentine’s Day, and I’m here to stir some shit up.

Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3

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—————

Breaking up slowly is a hard thing to do

I love you only, but it's making me blue

So don't send me flowers like you always do

It's hard to be lonely, but it's the right thing to do

You and Aaron have always been compatible. You make sense together, and everyone agrees. They see the way you hold Jack, the way Aaron leaves flowers and gifts on your desk at work ‘just because’, and it’s nothing short of proof that you’ve got a good life with a good man. The team makes it clear, regularly tells you and Aaron both how lucky you are.

You wouldn’t admit it for fear of sounding too boastful, but you agree with them.

The horror stories of Emily’s dating life and the sexually tense limbo that Penelope and Derek are in have made you relieved that, for most intents and purposes, you’ve settled down. You’ve got a family, and you’re happy.

The beginning of the end starts like any other Friday. You wake up and make coffee for yourself and Aaron, then shower while it brews. He joins you for a cup out on the balcony of the apartment; you both know that you’ll regret missing the extra hour of sleep, but watching the sunrise and having some uninterrupted time together is always your favourite part of the day.

You wake Jack up a little while later, get him dressed and ready for school, and then get yourself ready to go. After a quick breakfast of eggs and toast, you’re off to take Jack to school while Aaron heads to the office early for a meeting with the Section Chief.

When you get to work, you notice a fresh cup of coffee sitting on your desk. There’s a little heart on a post-it note stuck to the side of the cup, one that you peel off and stick inside a folder in your desk that’s filled with little notes and doodles that Aaron has left in your workspace over time.

“Loverboy got to it early, huh?” Derek asks as he walks past you, obviously putting the pieces together when he sees the familiar folder and the coffee in your hands.

“He was still at it when you woke up, Morgan.” You shoot back, bringing the disposable cup to your lips with a smile.

The coffee is still steaming hot, perfectly made, and the logo on the cup identifies it as being from your favourite cafe. You haven’t been there in ages, not since you and Aaron started dating. It’s a little too expensive, a little too far away, and that means that visiting the place is just inconvenient enough for you that Aaron feels great about spoiling you with their coffee whenever he can.

You take a few sips and then settle in at your desk, glancing up at Aaron’s office. He seems to be on the phone, in the middle of some discussion that has him tugging on a lock of hair in frustration, but it doesn’t stop him from giving you a slightly lopsided grin when you catch his eye.

After waving to him, you return to your work. The day passes without fanfare; it’s quiet and full of paperwork, except for the lunch Aaron takes you out for. After lunch at your usual place- a little bistro within walking distance- you’re back to doing consults and reports until it’s time to pick Jack up from school.

“How was your day, buddy?” You ask when he gets in the car, checking the mirrors before you pull out onto the road.

“Good. Tommy asked if I want to come over and play today, and I got all the answers right in math.” He peers out the window at the cars going by, oblivious to the way you smile at him.

“Hey, good job!” You say it with a little more enthusiasm than you probably need, but education’s important. “As soon as we’re home, we’ll have dinner and then I’ll talk to Daddy about you going over to Tommy’s, okay? How does that sound?”

“Can we have pizza for dinner?”

You pretend to think about it for a minute. “Hmm… okay, but just because you did so well in math,” you say. He giggles at that and starts debating pizza toppings with himself aloud, allowing you to focus on driving.

By the time you pull up to the apartment complex, he’s decided on a Hawaiian pizza. You grab his backpack and his hand, ordering the pizza online on your phone while the two of you go up to the apartment. Jack rushes off to his room to play almost as soon as you open the door, leaving you alone for a couple of minutes.

Only a couple, though, because by the time you’ve hung up your purse and texted Tommy’s mother, you can hear Aaron’s key in the lock.

“Hey.” You greet him with a kiss as he sets his briefcase next to yours, then toes off his shoes. “Tommy invited Jack over. His mom can pick Jack up, and he can sleep over too. I just wanted to check that you didn’t have any plans for him tonight?”

“No firm plans, no. That sounds good.” Aaron confirms it with you, and you text back the confirmation to Tommy’s mom.

“Great. Pizza is on the way, and Jack ordered Hawaiian.” You grin at Aaron, who grimaces. Before he can speak, you’re quick to reassure him. “I got a thin crust pepperoni for us.”

“I love you,” Aaron announces like your pizza ordering abilities are what made him fall for you.

“I know. I’m going to lie down for a bit, can you handle getting Jack fed and ready?” At the look he gives you, you hold up both hands. “Forget I even bothered asking.”

“I’ll try,” he deadpans, eyes sparkling. He’s one of the most attentive dads you’ve ever met, and you both know it.

You go to the bedroom to lie down, your eyes sliding shut. Losing that extra hour of sleep this morning must have caught up with you because you’re fast asleep in minutes.

A few hours later, you wake up to the orange glow of the sunset filling the room around you. You go out into the living room, where Aaron is watching TV.

“Hey. Jack left an hour ago, pizza’s in the fridge.” He turns to look at you. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how bad I needed a nap.” You shake your head a little in disbelief, grabbing the Tupperware container full of pizza slices.

“No kidding. I need to start leaving a pillow and blanket in my office at this rate.” Aaron pats the couch next to him and you sit down with your plate, snuggling up against him. He moves a blanket to cover both of your laps, then wraps an arm around you to pull you even closer.

Aaron Hotchner is the best cuddler. When his lips brush against your temple, you wonder how you got so lucky. You reach over his lap a minute later, grabbing the remote from him. He protests, but you just shake your head.

“You’ve had it for an hour. Besides, what are you watching?” You look at the TV screen, changing the channel off of the sitcom.

“The Brady Bunch. It’s good.” Aaron insists when he sees one of your eyebrows arch up. “I’m serious. It’s about this couple, they’re both widows and they’ve got six kids between them, an- “

You can’t help the peal of laughter you let out, but it stops Aaron in his tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding. Having six kids sounds like such a nightmare, who would want that?”

You don’t see the way Aaron shifts, tonguing his cheek as he thinks about his next words. “Well, they each had three from their previous marriages,” he starts again, only to have you fall into another bout of giggles.

“Three is still way too many. Hell, having one sibling was too much for me. Can you imagine if we did that to Jack?” You ask, the comment purely offhand as you gesture at the screen.

“Right.” Aaron clears his throat, and suddenly the heat from his body pressed against yours is gone. “I’m just grabbing some more pizza,” he murmurs when you look up. He hesitates, hems and haws a little like he’s unsure, then leans in to kiss your forehead. “Turn on whatever you want to watch.”

He’s acting strange, but you just woke up a few minutes ago. Maybe something happened, or his day was worse than you realized. He makes a point to talk to you about any issues, so you decide not to worry about it. If something is wrong, Aaron will tell you.

You settle on an episode of Family Guy, which starts right when Aaron sits down. “This okay with you?”

“It’s got a family with three kids and a dog. Are you sure it’s okay with you?” He mutters it under his breath, but you still hear him.

Okay, something must be going on. Aaron is known to have a drier sense of humour, but you can detect something a little more serious in his tone. Not to mention the content of his words, which sting a little more than you’d like to admit.

“Whoa, there. Is something wrong?” You face him, reach for his hand but he pulls it away.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s just…” He scrubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to think. “Maybe I need to take a nap too.”

“Aaron, what’s going on?” You sit up a little straighter, and he stands.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m going to get some rest, hon. You come to bed whenever you want.” Instead of kissing you- or your forehead, or even looking at you for that matter- he turns away, disappears down the hall.

You’re not sure exactly what’s going on. Maybe something upset Aaron today, or maybe he really is just tired. Either way, you know him well enough to know when he just wants to be left alone, so you settle back with Family Guy and your pizza.

When you crawl into bed a couple of hours later, Aaron is fast asleep. His back is to the centre of the bed, and he sleeps facing away from you while holding a pillow to his chest.

You try not to think too much about it. If you overthink this, you’re going to end up profiling him, and you promised each other a long time ago that you’d never do that.

The way Aaron sighs and squeezes the pillow instead of wrapping his arms around you like usual still hurts, though.

You close your eyes and pull up the duvet, falling into a restless sleep.

—————

The next day is a Saturday. You wake up in an empty bed to the sound of the front door closing, and slow footsteps shuffling around. Getting out of bed and pulling on a robe, you open the bedroom door. “Aaron? Jack?”

“Hey.” Aaron is standing in the kitchen, shifting from one foot to the other. “I just dropped Jack off at Jessica’s. And I got you this.” He gestures to the coffees sitting on the countertop.

“Two days in a row? I’m so lucky.” You grab the cup, kissing his cheek in thanks. “Why is Jack with Jessica? Do we have a case?”

“No, we don’t. I want to speak to you, and I don’t want him to be around,” Aaron says bluntly, taking a small step back the second your lips touch him.

Your brows furrow and you look up at him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes fall shut for a moment. When he opens them again, they’re full of… something you can’t identify. Something bad. For the first time, you can’t read Aaron like he’s a book written just for you to understand. “You just woke up. Go shower and get ready, I’ll make breakfast. We can talk after.”

“Aaron, you’re scaring me. What do we need to talk about?”

He starts to answer, then stops himself. “Just… don’t worry about it yet. You don’t need to be scared, but I don’t want you getting in your head before we talk. Okay?”

That’s fairer than you’d like to admit. Whether he’s about to propose or tell you that Jessica had a heart attack, you’re only going to overthink every detail he lets slip. “Fine. You’re sure I don’t have to worry?”

“I’m sure. Go.”

Aaron watches you disappear down the hall and pull the bathroom door shut behind you. He’s never lied to you before, and he hates the feeling of it.

You emerge a little while later, dressed and awake. You’re hardly nervous anymore because he said you didn’t have to be and because, as you’ve reasoned, no matter what’s going on at least now he’s telling you about it.

“Omelette?” Aaron offers, and you shake your head.

“I’m fine. Can we just talk, please?” You sit down at the kitchen table, and he joins you a minute later. Reluctance and anxiety roll off him in uncharacteristic waves, and suddenly all your worries are amped right back up. “Please. Just tell me what’s going on. It’ll be okay.”

You reach for his hand, but he moves it out of reach, seeming to steel his nerves before he takes a deep breath and finally, finally communicates with you.

“I want the Brady bunch.”

Alright, that wasn’t quite what you were expecting. You blink a few times, replay the sentence in your head to make sure you didn’t mishear him. But you must have, because what the hell is he talking about? You open your mouth, unsure of what to say, but he’s already talking again.

“I want what they have, a big family. I’ve always wanted a big family. Four or five kids, some pets, a big house. For a long time, after Haley… for a long time, I thought I’d never get that. I thought it was just me and Jack, and that would be it.” He’s talking faster than you’ve ever heard him, emotion filling his brown eyes as they bore into you. “And then you came along, and it all came rushing back. I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.”

Oh. Oh. “Aaron…”

“Just… let me finish. I want all of that, and then you said that thing, last night. About how more than one kid is too many. And I realized that we never talked about this, about any of it. And you always tell me to communicate with you, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Following the thread of Aaron’s monologue isn’t easy, but he allows you a moment to process.

“You’re telling me that you want to have kids?” You summarize after a long minute.

“A few more, yes. I would.” He looks down at the table, avoiding your gaze. “But I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids. I knew I had to tell you, but if you really don’t want them, just say the word. I’ll never bring it up again.”

You know he means it. Aaron would move heaven and earth for you, and him moving his own hopes and dreams to the back burner isn’t much of a stretch. Your stomach clenches, and you’re suddenly glad you didn’t eat anything before this conversation. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think of it. With Haley and I, we’d both always wanted kids. We talked about it when we were younger, and we didn’t have to revisit it until after we got married. But with us, you and I, I never knew when to bring it up. So, I didn’t. But you know I want to marry yo-” He freezes like he’s exposed himself, but you only nod.

“I’ve seen the ring in your sock drawer. Keep talking.” You encourage gently. He’s never opened up like this before, and you’re worried that he’ll withdraw before he’s done explaining everything.

“Oh.” Aaron looks embarrassed, but it’s obvious that there are more pressing matters to discuss. “I don’t think it would be right of me to propose after last night, knowing that we have different ideas. It doesn’t feel fair to you.”

“Or to you. I agree.” You reach for his hand again, and this time he lets you take it. “So where does that leave us?”

“Just say the word, and I’ll never mention kids again. If you’re happy with our family, just us and Jack, then so am I.” His eyes flicker back up to yours. “You’re all I need. I mean it.”

God, you’re going to pass out soon. “You know I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

“I know. But I’m okay with it. The only thing I need to hear is that you’re alright with this. With us.”

You inhale as deep as you can, hold it for a count of five before exhaling. “This is a lot to take in. I just need a bit of time to process it all, okay?”

“Of course. Yeah, whatever you need.” Aaron pulls his hand away and stands up. He moves around the kitchen with a nervous sort of energy, putting a couple of dishes in the sink. “Maybe I’ll go for a run.”

“Good idea. The fresh air will do you some good,” you agree, not wanting to let on how badly you want to be alone. You stand as well, pushing your chair in while Aaron disappears to the bedroom to change clothes.

When he re-emerges in running apparel, he sees you waiting with your eyes on the bedroom door. Wordlessly he steps forward with open arms that you walk right into.

He pulls you close, lips brushing your temple as you take a moment to hold each other. You inhale the scent of his soap, the familiar scent surrounding you. His hands find their usual spot on your lower back, and your head rests where it always does in this position. Everything is the same, and yet you can’t deny that something feels different now.

“You saw the ring, huh?” He asks against the side of your head, and you can feel his lips curve into a smile that may or may not be genuine.

“I did. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Hotchner.” You try to sound as teasing as possible. Maybe you can get back to normal if you act like nothing is different, like you can’t feel the tension in the air.

“So, what should I do with it, now that it’s not a secret?” You can feel his heartbeat thrumming fast against you, so you take a step back. You won’t be able to handle the feeling of his heart shattering, knowing that you’ve caused it.

“Maybe we should leave it there, for now,” you say softly, and you watch his eyes dim a little. It’s the only reaction he gives, but you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing when he turns to lace up his runners.

“Alright, hon. Whatever you want.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, which you clasp behind your back. He opens his mouth to speak again but you beat him to it.

“You should get going before the park gets too busy,” you suggest, looking over at the clock. “Be safe, okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll see you in a while, then.” He leans in to kiss you and you let him. It’s chaste and short; you can’t trust yourself with anything more intimate, not right now.

When he pulls away and shuts the door behind him, you wait almost a full minute to make sure he didn’t forget anything. You move to the balcony, watch the street in front of the apartment complex until you see him jogging away, and that’s when you crumple onto the couch with your head swimming.

Marriage, more kids, pets, a new house? Sure, you’ve long suspected that Aaron wants to take things to the next level- a thought that was only confirmed when you saw the ring in his drawer weeks ago- but this is a lot of levels to find out about all at once.

Goddammit, you can’t handle this. Too many thoughts in your head are swirling around and confusing you further. You need to clear your mind, so you reach for your phone and dial the number of the only person positive enough to fix you, or at least drag you out of the emotional gutter.

“You’ve got Garcia.” A cheery voice comes over the speaker, but it doesn’t make you smile like usual.

“Pen? It’s me. Aaron and I had, well, I don’t think it was a fight, but it’s…” you take a shuddering breath. Saying it out loud has made this whole thing so much more real, and you’re fighting tears before you know it. “Can we meet up somewhere?”

“Oh! Oh, no. I’m on my way to pick you up, I’ll be there in ten.”

You take another breath. This one is slower, deeper, and you focus on it instead of everything else. “Can you text me when you’re here?”

“Yes, absolutely. It’s going to be okay.” She sounds more confident than you feel.

A part of you feels so drained, so exhausted by what’s already happened today, that you can’t bring yourself to say anything more. You end the call, only feeling slightly guilty since you’re going to see her in a couple of minutes. You open your conversation with Aaron, drafting a new message.

Me: Going out with Penelope for lunch. Should I pick jack up omw home?

He responds quicker than you anticipated; either he’s taking a water break, or he isn’t really jogging and just wanted to get out of the house as badly as you do. You wouldn’t be surprised either way, and you really can’t blame him.

Aaron: I’ll get him. Unless there’s anything else you want to discuss without him around

Aaron: ?

You stare at the text. You know, logically, why he sent the second text. He always uses punctuation at the ends of messages, so it’s just an edit. Still, you can feel the insistence of that lone question mark boring into you, pressuring you, making you wish you could just say yes, let’s discuss the wedding date and what to name our kids and make all of this weird tension go away. But you can’t. The question mark stares at you, asks you ‘are you sure about that?’ while you type with shaking fingers.

Me: I don’t think so. See you this afternoon.

It seems too cold of a text, so you send a heart emoji a moment later. He responds with one in kind but doesn’t say anything else, not that you’re expecting him to be chatty. He isn’t much of a conversationalist on the best of days, let alone in the midst of whatever is happening between you now.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in Penelope’s car while she drives down the streets of DC, listening to you spill the whole story in a way that you wouldn’t be able to if you were sitting in a restaurant. You’re in a detached sort of shock now, reciting the events of last night and today’s conversation for her without letting emotion show.

“And then he left to go for a run, and I called you,” you finish speaking, gaze trained on your hands where they sit folded in your lap.

“Oh, wow,” she says under her breath, then doesn’t say anything for a minute while she finds a parking spot. When the car is parked, she turns the key, undoes her seatbelt, and turns to face you. “And how do you feel about everything?”

“I feel awful,” you admit, “Like I’m letting him down or ripping this perfect idea of our future away from him. But I’ve never wanted all of that, and I figured he didn’t either. Or that he would have brought it up earlier, at least.”

“So… I’m sorry, I really don’t want to ask this.” She winces, and you sigh. You know what’s coming.

“I don’t think we’re going to break up. I don’t know for sure.” You swallow hard, trying to fight the rush of sadness that swells in your chest at the mere idea. “I feel so selfish. I’m making him pick between me and his dream, and it almost feels wrong that he’s picking me.”

“Could you try to compromise? Like if you had one or two more kids?”

You shake your head. “I’ve never wanted more than one, and I’m not sure I’d even want one if Aaron didn’t already have Jack. I love him, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t think parenthood is the path I would have chosen if we got to make that choice together.”

“I know what you mean.” She lets out a sigh and covers your hand with her own. “This doesn’t mean you love Hotch any less. You know that, right? You’re entitled to your own opinions and dreams, the same way he is.”

“I know, but I just… Pen, if I love him as much as he loves me, why is he the only one willing to sacrifice his future?” Your voice cracks pitifully, and she tsks.

“Because that isn’t what he’s doing. You’ve been happy together without more kids or getting married, or whatever else. You make each other happy, and I think that if he says he’s okay not having more kids, he means it.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath to prevent yourself from bursting into tears. “I just don’t want to lose him. But if I wake up in ten years and I’ve got four kids and a dog to take care of, I wouldn’t be…”

“What?” She prompts when you go a minute without speaking. Shame drips from your voice when you answer.

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive him. It’s… that isn’t what I want. I wouldn’t be happy. And even if it does happen, somehow, I’ll always wonder what our lives could have been like. There’s a part of me that would resent him, and I know how awful that sounds, but it’s true.”

Her hand tightens on yours. “Hey. You love him, and he loves you. If there’s a way for any two people in the world to work through this, it’s you guys. You’ll find a way, or you’ll do your best. And so will he.”

She gingerly wipes away tears that you didn’t realize have started to fall, and you sniffle a couple of times. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you just need to go home, order some takeout, and spend some time with your family,” she advises, giving you a small smile. “How does that sound?”

It sounds great, honestly. You’ve missed Aaron, even though he’s barely been away physically and this whole thing started less than a day ago. You miss the feeling of his arms, pulling you close every time you try to walk by him in the apartment (and occasionally the office). You miss the sporadic texts he’s taken to sending, little reminders throughout the day that he’s thinking of you. You miss his scent, his jokes, you miss him, and some family time sounds like it’s exactly what you need right now.

Instead of a direct answer, you give her a question in return. “Can you take me home?”

“Of course I can.” She shoots you a sunny, brilliant grin that has you wondering if this whole thing is even as bad as you thought. Maybe you’ve been building it all up in your head, and your relationship isn’t in the dire state you’ve been worried about.

When you get home to see a note in Aaron’s neat scrawl, you realize that maybe you were right to be worried.

Will be home late. Jack is with Jessica again.

You pick up the note, crumpling it in a fist. Jack with Jessica, and Aaron gone? It’s not exactly how you planned to spend your evening. You dig your phone out to call Aaron, and it goes straight to voicemail twice. You don’t bother to leave one, opting to send a text instead.

Me: where are you?

He doesn’t respond. That night, you fall asleep in an empty bed.

—————

You wake up in an empty bed, too. Yesterday morning reflects in your mind as you repeat the motion of grabbing a robe and creeping out to the living room. Aaron is asleep on the couch, still dressed in his clothes from last night. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants, not the runner’s clothes he left in, and you assume he changed when you were gone with Penelope.

You take a moment to study him. The morning sun washes over his face, elongating the shadow of his eyelashes and making him look about twenty years- and countless tragedies- younger. He looks relaxed, peaceful, and it almost pains you to reach out and tap his shoulder. “Aar-”

He sits up in a flash, hand instinctively flying to his side where he usually houses his holster and cell phone. He relaxes when he sees that it’s you, but as soon as his sleepy demeanour wears off there’s a new kind of tension that overtakes him. He’s uncomfortable around you, for possibly the first time ever.

The thing you don’t realize is that while you profile him, he does the same to you. He knows that he isn’t the only uncomfortable one, even if neither of you is willing to admit it. “Good morning, sweetie.” He wipes the sleep away from his eyes with one hand, a meaningless gesture because you both know that he’s as alert as he’s ever been. “How was your night?”

You stare at him, unsure of what direction to take this in. You can cause a fight, scream about how he didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning, or you can sit down and act like everything is fine and dandy, and your future isn’t a big swirling blob of uncertainty.

After a moment, you sit down.

“It was alright. I just watched a movie. I missed my Hotchner boys, though.” If you weren’t good at your job, you would miss the way Aaron’s spine goes ramrod straight at that. “Why did Jack stay at Jessica’s?”

“Her sister-in-law was visiting and brought her son. We thought it would be a good way for Jack to get to know his cousin,” Aaron answers easily. Too easily. It seems rehearsed, and you hate it. He wouldn’t lie to you, but he speaks like he’s been repeating the phrase over and over in his head, like he needed to prepare his lines before speaking to you. That’s got to be a sign of a healthy relationship, you think sarcastically.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I wish you would have told me beforehand.” You lean in a little, and Aaron puts an arm around you. The movements, once so natural and fluid, now have all the grace of two seventh-graders slow dancing for the first time.

“I did tell you. I left a note.”

“You have my number, too. You should use that next time, what if I hadn’t come home and didn’t see the note and then there was an emergency?” You’re nagging, you know you are, but you can’t help it. You need something to complain about right now, and you’re both steadfastly ignoring the elephant in the room.

His lips brush your temple, and he smooths your hair out of the way. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll text you if it happens again.”

“Thank you.” The two of you sit in a pseudo-comfortable silence for a few minutes. You rest against your usual spot on his chest, and he pulls you in, one hand stroking up and down your arm. It stops abruptly when you break the silence. “Aar, where were you last night?”

“I was at Dave’s. I took a cab home, and I stayed out here because I got in late and didn’t want to wake you.” This, too, sounds a little too rehearsed for you. It gives you no room for follow-up questions but even if you could think of one, he doesn’t stay quiet long enough for you to ask it. “Why?”

“I was just worried when I couldn’t get a hold of you.” You put a hand on his thigh and squeeze before standing up. “I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want a cup?”

“I’d love one, please.” Aaron leans forward to grab the newspaper off the coffee table and starts to flip through it while you go to get dressed, the smell of freshly brewed coffee slowly permeating the air and the tension within it.

When you emerge from the bedroom, Aaron has two mugs prepared along with two plates of eggs and bacon. “Here.” He hands you one of the mugs, then leans in to kiss you. It’s chaste but not uncomfortable, the way everything else has been today. It’s a little awkward but there’s no reluctance in the motion.

You let your gaze wander over the apartment when he pulls away; it’s been tidied, breakfast is made, jack’s toys are put away, and your favourite show is playing on the TV. To anyone else, it looks like Aaron pitched in and cleaned up around the apartment. To you, it looks like he’s making a conscious effort to keep you around and keep you happy.

The realization hits you and makes you swallow hard, blink rapidly while you pull him back in for another kiss. This one is deeper, and you set your coffee mug down to wrap both arms around him. You can feel him smile against your mouth, an arm wrapping around your waist.

It feels almost normal, the first real motion of affection either of you has made solely because you want to, and not for the appearances you’ve been trying to maintain in front of one another.

“I love you,” he whispers against your cheek, and you pull away just enough to bury your face in his neck, speaking into the warmth of his skin.

“I love you more.”

Except that you don’t. You obviously don’t love him more than he loves you, because you’re here. You’re standing in the dining area, destroying his dreams with your mere presence. You’re the only reason he can’t have what he wants. Maybe you love him too much, or you don’t love him enough, but in this moment all the doubt and tension clear from your mind; you’re making the selfish choice, and you aren’t going anywhere for as long as he’ll have you.

“I know,” he rumbles, bringing a hand up to rub your back soothingly. “Jessica said that Jack and Cody are getting along, so he wants to stay and play a little longer. Why don’t we go do something fun and then pick him up before dinner?”

“Mm… that sounds nice,” you agree. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Aaron pulls away, a wicked grin on his face that you know all too well. You manage to pick up your coffee cup quickly before he’s pulling you in the direction of the bedroom. Breakfast is forgotten and true to his word, you’re busy until it’s time to pick Jack up in the evening.

—————

When Aaron gets home with Jack, you’re just finishing eating your dinner. You know that Aaron feels bad about barely seeing Jack this weekend, so you’re not surprised to see the McDonald’s bag in Jack’s hand. Jack always asks to get dinner there, and Aaron is always a little more susceptible to those puppy dog eyes when he feels guilty.

“Hey, Jackers.” You open your arms to the boy, and he drops the greasy paper bag, running towards you for a hug. “Did you have fun with Auntie Jess?”

Jack starts to ramble about what a good time he had, how Cody is so cool, and Jack wants him to come over all the time now, so he’ll have someone to play with. The longer he speaks, the more your heart sinks in your chest. Aaron isn’t the only one whose big family dream is being restricted by you. Jack is just a kid who wants someone to play with, and you’re acutely aware that you’re taking that away from him.

So much for getting back to normal.

“Well, that sounds great! Maybe we can ask Auntie Jess to let us know next time he’s visiting,” you suggest, seeing Aaron turn away out of the corner of your eye.

Jack nods to you and scurries off to retrieve his McDonald’s bag from the floor before he goes to his room. Another night of him playing alone, because he has no siblings and- more often than not- he says that you and Aaron ‘play wrong’, whatever that means.

“You okay?” You speak into the silent room when you see that Aaron hasn’t moved in a minute and his hands are braced against the kitchen counter. His back, which is facing you, stiffens just a little bit before he turns.

“All good.” He’s obviously not all good but you’re certainly not pressing the issue right now, especially after what Jack said about having somebody to play with. “I need to get some work done. I’ll be in the office, okay?” He drops a kiss on your cheek as he passes you, and the door to the spare-room-slash-office clicks shut behind him.

Great. Another night alone for you too, somehow. You must be setting some kind of record here, but you refuse to dwell on it, opting to just finish cleaning the kitchen and head to the master bedroom to do some reports. You work on those until it’s time for Jack to go to bed, and you get him in pyjamas with his teeth brushed.

After a hug and kiss goodnight- and a check under the bed for monsters, as per his usual bedtime routine- you decide to get some sleep yourself. The office door is cracked open, so you move towards it, to say goodnight or invite Aaron to bed or something, but what you see stops you in your tracks.

He’s holding a faded photo of four people that you vaguely recognize as his family in one hand, and what must be at least a triple of scotch in the other hand. He takes a long sip of the liquid and savours it before swallowing, not taking his eyes off the picture the entire time.

This… this complicates things. You don’t know the details, have never wanted to push, but you know that his life growing up wasn’t the best. He and Sean, despite their differences both in behaviour and treatment, had each other’s backs growing up. Him thinking about his family means one of two things: either he’s thinking about the siblings you refuse to give Jack, or he’s back to the old fear of being like his father.

You wish you hadn’t bothered looking in. There’s a guilt-shaped hole in your stomach, and you just want to go to sleep. One step towards the bedroom, however, gives you away.

Creak.

“Honey?” You see Aaron shove the picture into a case file folder as he calls out. He looks at the glass of scotch, probably thinking about how full it is, but there’s no time for him to do anything about it as you push the door open. You’ve already been caught, so you might as well accept it.

“I was just heading to bed.” Damn your voice for cracking, and damn the way Aaron’s gaze flits between you and the folder you can’t stop looking at.

“Hey, I wasn’t…” he starts to stand, his tone half nervous and half reassuring, but you shake your head. Who the hell are you, to demand comfort for the guilt of the choice that you made?

“Don’t worry about it. Really.” You give him a watery smile and he must know just how close you are to opening this carefully sealed can of worms, because he sits back down. “Jack’s asleep. Don’t stay up too late.”

You glance at the scotch, and so does he. “Half an hour,” he vows, grabbing a different case file to presumably work on.

For the second night in a row, Aaron doesn’t come to bed.

—————

You wake up alone again but before you can get too annoyed, Aaron is walking into the bedroom with a coffee mug that he passes to you. You raise an eyebrow, wondering about this switch from the sunrise-watching routine that you both enjoy, but he shakes his head.

“It’s cloudy. We won’t be able to see the sun come up.”

The weather isn’t what you’re talking about when you say, “I think you’re right.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and opens the closet door, causing you to check the clock. “Early morning,” you remark. He likes to spend as much of the morning as possible in pyjamas since he pretty much lives in a suit when he leaves the apartment, so getting dressed is one of the last things he does before going to work.

“Strauss is trying to make more budget cuts. I’ve got a presentation with the board first thing to convince them not to cut any funding to the BAU,” he explains while it comes to your attention that he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something. Did he not sleep at all last night?

“How big of a cut?” You ask, frowning. Strauss making cuts is nothing new, but Aaron never lets it get to him this badly. He’s got bags under his eyes and his hair has already been gelled down and tugged on, tufted up like it always is when he’s under a lot of pressure.

He doesn’t answer directly, pulling on a dress shirt and busying himself with the buttons. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m taking care of it.”

You sip your coffee, watching him dress in a hurry. “I’ll let Jack know you had to go early. Drive safe.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I will.” He wraps his tie around his neck and walks over to the bed, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at the office.”

You manage to return the kiss and raise your hand in a feeble wave, and then he’s gone.

—————

When you get to the office, there’s a coffee and a breakfast croissant placed neatly on your desk. You glance up at Aaron’s office like usual, only to see him and Strauss standing near the window. They’re silenced by the glass but from the way she’s shaking her head and he’s clenching his jaw, this doesn’t seem like a friendly chat. The presentation must have gone badly.

You look down at the desk, stomach rolling with guilt. He went out of his way to get you these treats, even though he had to be at work. You’re important to him, and the reminder is always nice, but how important can you be? He’s given up on his dream family for you already, and now he’s getting screwed over at work because he feels the need to remind you that he cares.

Like you’ve ever doubted that.

Is there no limit to what he’ll do for you, what he’ll put up with? The idea of the power you potentially hold over him is nauseating, and you find yourself tossing the croissant into the garbage can before you really think about it. You’re too overwhelmed to consider eating right now, and you would dump the coffee if there was a sink in front of you.

“Why did you throw that out?” An inquisitive voice from behind you hits your ears, and you flinch.

“God, Reid, you can’t just sneak up on people like that! I wasn’t hungry, okay?”

Spencer shrugs and makes his way to his desk, cradling the cup of coffee he must have been in the kitchen making. “Alright. I was just wondering.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” You feel a flush of shame for snapping at him, but it’s forgotten when Aaron’s office door opens. It’s still relatively early and agents are still arriving, so the bullpen is quiet. You take advantage of that fact, training your ears on your boyfriend’s frustration-grated voice.

“I’ll think about it, ma’am.” He’s noticeably stiff. He’s got a hand on the door, an obvious attempt to get the Section Chief out of his office.

She walks out in front of him but blocks the door with her foot when he tries to close it. “I’ll need your decision by the end of the day,” she says like she’s repeating herself to a toddler.

“I understand, ma’am. The paperwork will be on your desk by 5 o’clock.”

“It had better be.” She turns and starts to walk down the stairs, you and Spencer averting your gazes. “Agents.”

“Ma’am,” you chorus, Spencer returning to his paperwork while you meet Aaron’s eyes before he turns and retreats through the open doorway. He looks so, so tired, and you know that talking to him now will only serve to make it worse. You feel awful at the thought, but you rise and walk into his office all the same.

“Hey, how was the presentation?” You shut the door behind yourself and sit down. It’s a stupid question and you both know it, but you have to know what happened.

“Not good. I was prepared, but it just all came crashing down on me.” He scrubs one hand over his face, and you wince. “She wants- never mind that, I don’t want to think about it. And you don’t need to worry. How was your morning?”

He isn’t telling you. It’s a definitive sign that even though you’re both acting painstakingly normal, there’s a gap between you that didn’t exist a week ago. All the coffee and croissants in the world won’t change the fact that for the first time, Aaron is actively keeping something from you.

“It was okay. Jack was sad that he missed you, but I promised him you were being a superhero. That always cheers him up.” Just talking about the boy twists your stomach up. What right do you have to act all maternal, to tuck him in at night and tell him stories and then wake him up and explain why his dad isn’t around? You aren’t Haley.

“Thank you.” The smile he shoots you is minuscule but genuine, just the slightest upward tick of the side of his mouth.

“You’re welcome. Why did you get me breakfast? And a coffee?” You ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, because it’s not like you deserve either treat.

Aaron just looks at you like he doesn’t know why you bothered to ask. “Because I wanted to. Is it a problem?”

“Well,” Yes. “No. Not at all. But you had to be here early, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you, you know I appreciate it, but you didn’t need to. I don’t want you thinking that I expect it. There’s no other reason?”

He shifts a little uncomfortably, and you know that means there’s more to his answer, so you wait for him to speak again. “And because I feel bad,” he admits, hands clasped on his desk with his fingers interwoven. “We aren’t in… a good spot. And I feel responsible.”

“That’s up to us to fix, together,” you say as calmly as you can. “You can’t just acts-of-service your way out of problems, whether it’s with us or anything else.”

“And you can’t throw love languages in my face every time you don’t like something,” Aaron shoots back, and you can’t blame him for being on the defensive right now. Moments later his face softens, like he’s remembered something important. “I want us to go back to normal. How we were.”

“So do I.” But it might never happen. The unspoken sentence hangs in the air between you, silent but echoing off the walls of the office. You could cut the tension with the plastic knife that came packaged with Jack’s Halloween costume.

He clears his throat after a painfully long minute. “You should get to work. I’m making an announcement this afternoon, so long as we don’t get a case.”

You get to your feet, smoothing down your shirt. “Good announcement, or bad announcement?” you ask as he lowers his head to pay attention to some papers on his desk.

“Be sure to close the door behind you.”

You kind of want to start another argument over that, but you mostly just want to get out of the office, so you leave without another word.

The day passes like agony-filled molasses as you replay everything over in your head, looking for some kind of solution. You need to do something, anything to get Aaron back on track. He’s only concerned about you, not himself, and that means that you need to step up and start to think about what’s best for him.

If you’re completely honest with yourself, every wall broken down and every boundary ignored, you know what’s best. It’s clear as day to you, in the same way that it’s clear that Aaron will do everything in his power to avoid the inevitable outcome that the two of you have been orbiting since Friday night, like soap rinsing down the drain only to disappear forever. It might be inevitable, but it’s not desired.

You don’t have a choice anymore. You made a choice, a selfish choice, the wrong choice, and now every interaction is full of awkwardness stemming from your guilt. And his guilt, too.

His guilt. You still can’t fathom how he’s managed to make himself feel like the bad guy here, but if anyone can do so without breaking a sweat, it’s Aaron. His admission of guilt, you realize, is what pushed you over the edge. The gnawing pit in your stomach would be bearable if you knew that Aaron was happy, but he isn’t and that’s not okay.

—————

You’re so swept up in your thoughts that you hardly notice the time. Just before lunch, the agents in the bullpen start to mill around, grabbing their lunches and eating either at their desks or in the kitchen.

“Hey. We’re going to get some food; did you want to come?” JJ offers, a gentle hand on your shoulder grabbing your attention.

You sit up a little straighter, eyes darting around the bullpen. “Hm? Oh, no, I-” The excuse dies in your throat when you see one of the mailroom guys standing in the doorway holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I believe these are yours, agent.” He passes them over with a wink, and you accept them despite the shellshock on your face. They’re your favourite flower, of course, and the card just reads A.H. in scrawled lettering next to a hastily sketched heart. Something inside you snaps like this is the final straw, and you get to your feet with your grip on the bouquet tightening dangerously.

“Aww!” JJ reaches for them, presumably to admire, but you stand up and push past her with the bundle in your arms.

You’re going to be fucking sick.

You don’t bother to knock on the office door, and just swing it open. Aaron is writing a report but stops when he sees you. The look on your face must not register, based on his greeting.

“Oh, good, they’re here. Do you want to go out for lunch with me?” He asks. He starts to stand, reaching for his coat but his hand freezes in midair when you drop the bouquet on his desk.

“What is this?” You demand. “I told you, you can’t just do this. Don’t send me flowers like you always do, Aaron! Either work on this, on us, or don’t bother!” You toss the flowers onto his desk, feeling a little bad about how scrunched up they are from your grip.

“And what would you rather I do?” His arm drops down to his side as he watches you. “I don’t get it. Do you want me to work on this, or not?” His voice is raw, rough, and you’re a little grateful that you’re both equally upset. He’s been masking his emotions a little too well, but it looks like your outburst has broken the dam.

“Honestly, if this is your idea of working on it? I don’t.” You gesture angrily at the desk. “If your idea of resolving an issue is giving me what I want instead of actually coming up with a solution, why even try?”

“So, what? What do you want to hear from me?” Aaron challenges. “Do you want to hear that I want to be a father again? That I want to have a yard that my kids can run around in? I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.”

“I want to hear the truth! I love you, and I’m just ruining your life. You’ve got all these hopes and dreams and I broke them all down and you haven’t had a single fucking problem with it, aside from avoiding me for most of the weekend! If you’re unhappy, just say something!”

“Fine!” You both freeze. He’s never raised his voice like that, and he takes a second to collect himself before he continues. “Yes, I want all of that. No, I don’t want to force you into it. But I would be happier, if that’s what you want me to say. I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening. I love you, and you know that. But no. I’m not as happy as I could be, and I blame myself for how shitty this,” he motions between the two of you, “feels lately. Satisfied?”

“Yeah.” Tears sting your eyes, and you’ve never felt so powerless. The only thing to do now is deliver the kill shot, and he’s left it to you. You know that you’ve exhausted every other possible option. When you think of that alongside his confession, it makes your next sentence come out a little easier. It’s still a hard thing to do. “I don’t think this is working out.”

“Sweetheart…” You can’t look up at him, so you just watch his right hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing on his index finger the way it does when he’s truly confused or stumped by something.

“You know that I’m right. I can’t give you all of that, but I’m not going to be the reason you don’t have it.” Your voice trembles and you set your jaw in a weak effort to keep it steady. Maybe you do love him more, because you’ve never felt pain like this and you’re putting yourself through it on purpose. You would do it a hundred more times, too, because you’re doing it for him. You’re okay. “You deserve whatever life you want to have.”

“And if I want a life with you?” he counters. “Then what?”

“You want your life with me. Not mine. You won’t be happy, you already aren’t.” When you lock eyes with him, you see the glossy tinge in his. “We need to break up. This isn’t fair to you, or Jack.”

Jack. The thought of not seeing him all the time causes a tsunami of sorrow to crash into you, but you fight not to let it show. “You should have a bunch of kids with someone who wants them, in a place where you both want to live. Jack should have as many siblings and pets as you can give him. That’s the future you deserve, Hotch, and I’m not a part of it. I can’t be. I love you too much to put us through that.”

Aaron looks like he’s having as much trouble blinking back tears as you are. “Don’t call me that.” He requests, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You can’t do this. I love you; Jack loves you. What do we tell him?”

“You tell him that I won’t be around. He’ll understand. I’ll take a personal day and clear out my things while he’s at school tomorrow.” You let out a sniffle, turning towards the door. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Really.”

“I know.” He sounds resigned. He knows as well as you do that your relationship was doomed and has been for days, but the knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. You both fought for each other, but you’re always going to wonder how much harder you could have fought. Knowing Aaron, he’ll wonder the same thing; if there’s anything he could have done this weekend to avoid this unavoidable conclusion. Did he see it coming all along?

There’s nothing else to say, so you just exit and shut the door behind you, bringing a sleeve up to dab away the tears that are starting to fall. It’s a good thing that everyone is out for lunch, or so you think.

As soon as you lower your arm, you wish you’d left it in front of your eyes so you don’t have to see almost every member of the BAU staring at you. You try to speak, to ask why they’re still here, when Penelope breezes into the bullpen with her purse over her arm.

She opens her mouth to speak, and you can predict the way it snaps shut as soon as she takes in your appearance. She beelines for you and steers you towards the conference room with a comforting hand on your back in the same spot where Aaron always placed his, and the comparison has your stomach in knots.

“All of you, leave us alone,” she orders the team. It’s so un-Penelope that everyone listens without fail, finding their way out of the bullpen or back to their desks while she shuts the door to give you some privacy.

The door clicks shut, she lowers the blinds, and you let out the body-wracking sobs that you’ve been repressing for far too long. You stand there and cry for a few seconds before she’s pulling you into a hug and you’re crying on her shoulder instead, and she starts to guide you into a seat. Once you’ve slowed down a little, she offers you a bottle of water, and you chug some of it. When you’re finished you let out a hiccup and screw the lid onto the bottle.

“What happened?” She whispers.

“I couldn’t do it. I can’t be the reason he isn’t happy, I just can’t. I had to let him go.”

Her hand finds your back again, and she rubs it soothingly. “But you love him.” It’s verification, not an accusation, but it’s enough for you to stifle another sob.

“More than I’ve ever loved anyone. He’s the only guy for me, but I’m miserable because I’m making him miserable, and he feels the same.” You pause to swipe at your under eyes. “If love is supposed to be so great, then why do I feel so shitty?”

“Because usually when you’re in love with someone who’s in love with you, you get to be together.” She squeezes your free hand, seemingly searching for the right thing to say. “Was it sudden, or…?”

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “It’s like we’ve been mid-breakup this entire time, and now it’s official. The breakup went so slowly, I thought we had a chance. I thought we were going to make it.” You sniffle again, and she pulls you back into a bear hug.

“I know. And you did your best,” she promises. The ache in your heart doesn’t go away at her words, but it’s a little less raw after that. “Do you want to take some time to… you know?” She motions to you, and you nod.

When she pulls out a pocket mirror, you use it and wipe away the smudged mascara under your eyes. It’s the only thing you have time to do before the door is opening and everyone walks in, Aaron bringing up the rear.

“Garcia. Agent,” he greets you both as everyone takes a seat, and you try to pretend that the title doesn’t feel like he just thrust a knife into your chest and started to twist. “I have an announcement to make. Effective immediately, I’m leaving the BAU.”

“What?” You don’t know who spoke- probably Emily or Derek, you weren’t paying attention to the voice- but no one else moves a muscle.

Aaron’s eyes are trained on you as he speaks. “Budget cuts are being made, and the Section Chief has determined that transferring me to work in the CASMIRC and promoting one of you to Unit Chief is the most effective way to localize cuts in the NCAVC branch.”

“Is it because of your raises?” Spencer asks, and you all look at him. “Hotch won’t maintain any fiscal raises he received in the BAU if he moves to Investigative Resources, even though both units are a part of the Violent Crime branch. If one of us gets promoted, we’re going to be making significantly less than he does.” He explains.

“Does that mean you’ll be an SSA?” JJ asks, and Reid answers for him.

“He’ll be a Special Agent.”

“So, what does that mean?” Emily’s voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “You’ll have to start over completely?”

Aaron has been looking around the room, but he glances at you as he says, “Yes. I suppose I will.”

“What if one of us transferred out instead?” Who said that? You peer around the room, only to see everyone already staring at you. Oh, you did. It’s not a bad idea, though, the more you think about it.

“I’m not asking you to do that,” Aaron says, and you sit up a little straighter. Maybe you can’t give him the life he’s always wanted, but you can make sure he keeps the job.

“I know. I want to,” you say fiercely, and you can tell that he knows it’s true.

“If I don’t lose the raises, the NCAVC branch doesn’t have the money to keep you on. That means that you can’t work in the CASMIRC or ViCAP,” he warns you.

“I know that, too. There are no other units that need agents? None?” You ask, and Aaron hesitates.

“Strauss did propose an alternative, wherein I’m to let one of you go,” he admits, speaking formally in that ex-prosecutor-under-pressure sort of way, and you instantly know what happened in the meeting. Strauss told him to cut someone, and he picked himself. He’s too damn selfless, and it just reaffirms every decision you’ve made today. “I was hoping I could prevent it from getting to that point.”

“Let me go, Aaron.” It’s not a request; it’s a plea, and everyone knows it. “Please, just let me go.”

Miraculously, he does. “There’s an opening in the CJIA Division. It’s beneath you, to be frank, but you’re more than qualified for the position so it’s yours if you want it,” he says with a reluctance that tells you he hates himself for even giving you the option. “It’s not reversible. You need to be positive about this.”

“I am.” You think that if someone decides to drop a pin right now, you’ll hear it hit the carpet.

JJ looks over at you. “Criminal Justice Information Services? In DC?”

You nod once, with no hesitation in the gesture. “Yeah.” You need to get out of here, away from Quantico even though there’s probably not a full hour between the two offices. You need a new apartment, a fresh start, and this might be your last chance to give Aaron what he truly wants.

“You’re gonna move to DC?” Derek asks, mouth snapping shut when Emily elbows him in the ribs. They might not know the details, but it looks like everyone has pieced together that you’re going to have to go apartment-hunting.

“I’ll still see you guys all the time. And this way, Hotch gets to stay,” you reason. He can’t afford to support himself and Jack and his newly-potential future family on a special agent’s salary, and you’re both aware of it.

“Agent, you need to think this through.” Aaron’s voice has a warning edge to it, but you just shake your head.

“I have. I need to do this.” You stand up, take a deep breath. “I’m going to need the official transfer forms, sir. And if I don’t get them, I’ll go to Strauss’ office myself to let her know.”

Aaron lowers his voice just a little, a semblance of privacy even though the rest of the team is listening. “Is there anything I can do, to make you change your mind?” He isn’t just asking about the job, but you shake your head.

“There’s nothing. I’m sorry.” You turn away and exit the conference room, determined not to let anyone see you cry more than they already have. Aaron’s office door is open and you can see the bouquet on his desk, slightly crushed from your handling and sitting right where you left it.

You sit back down at your desk as the team trickles out to the bullpen minutes later. Brushing off questions and conversation, you bury your head in your work for the rest of the day and wonder when you’ll get to see your team again. Even though you haven’t left yet, you’ve never felt so isolated.

As awful as the last couple of hours have been, you know that you’re doing everything you can to give the man that you love the life he deserves. You’re making the selfless choice for once, and you’re ready to pay the price.

It’s hard to be lonely, but it’s the right thing to do.

—————

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ahouseoflies · 5 years

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The Best Films of 2018, Part IV

Scroll down for Parts I, II, and III. VERY GOOD MOVIES THAT STILL AREN’T TECHNICALLY GREAT--SEE, I LIED, NEW CATEGORY, WHICH REALLY SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS TIER IN 2018 AND MAYBE HINTS THAT THERE WEREN’T MANY MOVIES THAT I GENUINELY LOVED

44. Hotel Artemis (Drew Pearce)- It should be illegal to watch this movie before midnight because it is an exploitation flick to its core. Is it a problem that it's shaped like a triangle, that it starts wrapping up its answers the minute we understand what the questions were? Yes. Is that a problem that Jeff Goldblum, playing the Wolf King, wearing a double-breasted camel's hair coat like a shawl, can't fix? No.

43. Sicario: Day of the Soldado (Stefano Sollima)- Considering how much I liked Sicario, I'm impressed by how close its sequel came to its chilly hardness. Strangely enough, the craft suffers more from the absence of Jóhann Jóhannsson than it does from the absence of Denis Villeneuve. Aside from a lull at the two-thirds mark and the pulling of exactly one punch, this entry feels as vital and astute as the last one.

Which means the real auteur must be Taylor Sheridan. His script mimics the structure of the original while twisting its characters just askew enough to breathe new life into the material. His screenplays just sort of unfold in a way that I find organic--it's hard to even say what the conflict is until halfway through most of the time. And if he wants to write five more of these, I'll gladly take them.

42. The Other Side of the Wind (Orson Welles)- Like almost anyone else, I'm grateful that The Other Side of the Wind exists at all. The fact that it's so more personal and experimental than I expected is a bonus. It's kind of a mess until it congeals at the drive-in, but every choice still seems labored over. (The claustrophobic nature of the party versus the wide open spaces of the film-within-the-film, for example.) Nonetheless, it's hard to go to bat for a movie whose backstory is more captivating than the final product.

41. The Mule (Clint Eastwood)- Besides the breezy glide of the pacing, the performances stand out. Eastwood's is the type that we haven't seen from him in a while. He smiles a lot. He sings and dances and flirts. He's generally carefree and loopy. And he's contrasted with* a nervy Bradley Cooper in one of those humongous-star-taking-the-back-seat performances, sprinkling charisma the way Sean Connery did in The Untouchables.

But there is no elegance at all. Besides Chekhov's cough and the cheesy elbowing of "If only somebody had $25,000 to save the VFW Hall," we get the messy racial politics of Eastwood once again. Whereas Gran Torino worked for me because it's aware of its own racism, this one thinks that it's doing some good. The subtext is that an old White man would never catch trouble from police, but the text is a Hispanic man getting pulled over and nearly pissing himself for laughs. Hard to argue this isn't a fun time at the movies though, despite the fact that it's almost entirely about regret.

40. If Beale Street Could Talk (Barry Jenkins)- Too theatrical and outre for my taste, but it's easy to get lost in its cosmetic pleasures: the lush colors, the lavish costumes, the immaculate close-ups, the best score of the year. I liked it, especially the Brian Tyree Henry tangent, but as the movie is swooning over itself, it's easy to catch yourself thinking, "What is this even about?"

39. Can You Ever Forgive Me? (Marielle Heller)- Can You Ever Forgive Me? hits every beat you would expect from an "in over her head" crime movie, but the time that the film dedicates to the central relationship creates a rare intimacy. If you stopwatched it, I imagine the majority of the film would be McCarthy and Grant talking to each other. That focus, along with a resistance to smoothing over the characters' rougher edges, elevates a kind of boilerplate story.

38. Blockers (Kay Cannon)- Even if the ending is kind of exhausting, desperate to give each character his or her moment, this is hilarious. Not so much in the setpieces showcased in the commercials but frequently in an expression or line reading. The Blu-Ray has a line-o-rama gag reel that is funnier than some entire movies. It's pretty progressive and fair in its portrayal of young female sexuality too.

37. Game Night (John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein)- It gets a little tidy and full circle for my taste, but this movie has some great laughs while being a good example of a film that nails both the characters' "want" and the characters' "need." Rachel McAdams is winning, and Jesse Plemons steals all of his scenes.

Game Night also has way more of a filmic identity than one might expect, since it doubles as a sort of Fincher parody. Besides Cliff Martinez's insistent electronic score and some CGI-for-no-reason establishing shots, Daley and Goldstein borrow the auteur's desaturated palette, locked-down camera, and narrow light range. There's even an elaborate one-r. The visuals elevated a premise that had the potential to be really dopey.

36. First Man (Damien Chazzelle)- I think this is exactly the movie Chazelle wanted to make, but, to match my expectations or his filmography, it's not quite good enough. Cool to the touch, though anything else would be antithetical to who Armstrong was. In the shape of suspense, but with an outcome that is obviously never in doubt. Flipping to the IMAX ratio the second the crew docks onto the moon is a cool trick, but it's as innovative as things get.

The cast is game. Gosling's fastidious brooding resists any of his Movie Star charm but still holds every scene, and the framing of Armstrong's motivation works very well. Foy's reading of "a bunch of boys" is about to become a t-shirt. Kyle Chandler and Jason Clarke and the suddenly mature Patrick Fugit all get their moments. The final scene places the film into the Chazelle tradition of people whose calling is greater than even their most transcendent relationships, and a protest sequence is a welcome break from the eraser-streaked perfectionism.

I'm sorry that I wanted Apollo 13 instead of a hipper Apollo 13.

35. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (Bob Perischetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman)- Within the course of one year, we got two possible solutions for the "problem" of inspiring but self-serious origin stories. At the beginning of the year, Black Panther mastered the form and presented it so solidly that it couldn't be argued against. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse goes the other way, so impressionistic that the final sequence is people flying through abstract shapes and colors, so irreverent that a character cuts someone off mid-sentence as he says, "With great power comes..." Though I would have trouble explaining the film, all of the dimensional comings-and-goings make sense in the moment, and it's easily the funniest Marvel movie ever made.

Maybe purposefully, it is overstuffed though. Six different iterations of Spider-Man is enough to juggle; I definitely didn't need a cadre of villains that was even less defined. I have to admit, even though I couldn't tell you what to cut, I was exhausted by the end, even if I was huffing and puffing fresh air.

34. Boy Erased (Joel Edgerton)- Many characters do bad things in this movie, but they're people trying to help and doing their best, justifying the pain that they're causing. This is a film that easily could have been drawn in caricature, and it never is. It does, however, draw the characters as fairly as they deserve, so the Joel Edgerton gay conversion therapist does wear bad ties and pronounce some words incorrectly. The Russell Crowe character, especially in the powerhouse final scene, is more complex and real, at least if I'm to judge by my own father, who has disturbingly similar moral authority and power moves k thx bai.

33. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (Morgan Neville)- This one is more cohesive than 30 Feet From Stardom, but these Morgan Neville docs are sometimes too slick for their own good. If you've never made the "jerking-off motion" with your hand, then you'll be tested when he asks his subjects to close their eyes and imagine someone special to them.

That's not to say that the nearly pornographic reverence of Fred Rogers is not deserved or effective. And one of the most daring notes of the film is the suggestion that, in our hostile times, Rogers's message might not have stuck. The jabs at Trump aren't overplayed, but the president is sort of a pall over the entire film. When Rogers says, "The most essential things in life are invisible," it's hard not to imagine the person on our TV daily who is the antithesis of that idea.

32. Hearts Beat Loud (Brett Haley)- This is a heartwarming movie that ends on a high note with solid music. (Important because, if the music that the father and daughter made had been bad, the whole thing would have fallen apart.) Occasionally, it falls into that ensemble problem of "Good news: We got Ted Danson. Bad news: We have to find something for him to do." And it's a weird sideways ad for Spotify. But if I gave Begin Again three stars, then I have to kick this Once-core entry up to three-and-a-half.

If I may, though, I would like to analyze a recommendation that Offerman's record store owner makes to Collette's character. Since she's buying Dig Me Out by Sleater-Kinney, he puts her on to Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion, an album she has not heard of. Which is absurd. Forget that Animal Collective should not be recommended to any woman ever. Any person who knows Sleater-Kinney also knows Animal Collective. She would have heard of them if only because they would be a bad match for someone who likes Sleater-Kinney. But here he is all like, "Check out 'My Girls'--killer song." You're going to recommend the lead single, fam? You're not even going to go out on a limb and push "Bluish"? No wonder your store is shutting down if you're pushing free folk/art-punk onto riot grrls.

31. Western (Valesta Grisebach)- While I was watching Western, I can't say I was having too much fun. It seemed like an adequate story told in a patient, austere way. But in the days since then, I haven't been able to get it out of my head. The way that Grisebach gets so much out of non-professional actors, the way that each character seems to exist not so much as a person but as a totem for something like aggression or labor or exploitation or occupation. Like few other movies--though Beau Travail comes to mind--it's a portrait of masculinity that seems really resigned about its conclusions. 30. American Animals (Bart Layton)- I worry about the potential Boondock Saints effect of this movie: Do I want to be in the same number as the college dorm crew attracted to it only for its style? Is it only style? I don't think it adds up to much ultimately.

But it does have style, and it's way too fun of a caper flick to resist. It presents an interesting bridge in Bart Layton's career, from non-fiction that is a bit too fictional to fiction that is a bit too factual. The segments with the real people involved in the heist serve as decisive punctuation to the florid sentences of the narrative. I also appreciated that the film didn't dwell too much on the trial, since we know exactly where the boys faltered and what evidence did them in.

29. The Land of Steady Habits (Nicole Holofcener)- I loved the rich characterization of the first half, which resists hand-holding as it plops the viewer into a post-divorce setting that is familiar but specific. The film bounces off into tangents from there, some of which are great, but Edie Falco seems to draw the short straw. There are three actors on the poster--weird-voiced Ben Mendelsohn, Thomas Mann, and Falco--but her character is left undeveloped, a bit unfairly, as the proceedings favor the men. The film is still another ground-rule double for Holofcener, a filmmaker who gives the impression that she has no idea what a ground-rule double is.

28. Private Life (Tamara Jenkins)- I don't know anything about Tamara Jenkins's personal life, but there's no way that the details and emotion of the central couple's infertility don't come from her own pain. That frustration and obsession take center stage, and we get filled in with the rest of the details patiently as the film goes on. I don't think we even know what Giamatti's character does for a living until forty-five minutes in, and that's okay. The movie cares more about the supporting characters than I did, but I appreciated the lived-in realism of an apartment with books filling up the fireplace.

27. Flower (Max Winkler)- Although I didn't believe Zoey Deutch as a seventeen-year-old, I was impressed by this script, which moves slowly until it doesn't. I guess "Flower" is good branding since there doesn't appear to be a movie called that already, but I kind of wish this had just been called "Erica." It builds that character carefully, plants her in an impossible situation, then unleashes hell upon her.

An advantage of a movie with teenage characters is that they don't necessarily have to make the most logical decision in a given moment, so even when these characters are being dumb, they're being true to themselves. As the most prominent Zoey Deutch stockholder in North America, I actually thought about bumping this up an extra half-star.

26. Leave No Trace (Debra Granik)- Leave No Trace is partly about how existing outside of society can be as much of a contrivance as buying in, but the way the movie delivers that message is less ham-fisted than my description due to the intense performances at the center. Ben Foster, uncharacteristically restrained here, reportedly worked with Debra Granik to excise 40% of his dialogue, and that choice speaks volumes about the trust the film has for the audience in limiting the exposition.

The only thing holding me back was how exclusively internal the father-daughter story is. Unlike Granik's Winter's Bone, which functions as both a (similarly compassionate) coming-of-age story and a race-against-the-clock thriller, Leave No Trace is tracking only emotional growth. Will and Tom aren't headed anywhere in particular, which is part of the survival-versus-living point. But, you know, get you a Debra Granik movie that can do both.

25. Eighth Grade (Bo Burnham)- Socially terrifying when it isn't being effortlessly funny. Sometimes the protagonist is downright frustrating, which the film doesn't shy away from, but the vulnerability of Elsie Fisher's performance grounds everything around it. Besides nailing adult condescension, Burnham's script works because the big social disaster is always averted until it suddenly isn't, and that's when the moment hits the hardest. Somewhere in the back of my mind though, I kept thinking that perceptive realism is easy to do if that's your only goal. To quote the kids: "Some shade."

I spent most of the movie thanking God that YouTube channels didn't exist when I was thirteen.

24. Three Identical Strangers (Tim Wardle)- I'll be the millionth person to write "truth is stranger than fiction" with regard to this movie. And sometimes having no idea where a movie will go is enough. 23. Green Book (Peter Farrelly)- When a dramatic director makes a comedy, it often feels self-conscious and overt. I'm thinking about Von Trier's The Boss of It All, in which the technique is more important than any audience joy or release. Or Michael Haneke explaining tirelessly why he thinks Happy End is "actually a comedy." Unsurprisingly, the results work a lot better when a comedy director of twenty years decides to go more serious. He knows what audiences want, he already understands how to wring tension out of each scene, and all he needs is the right subject.

The last item is where Green Book suffers. In the end, this is still a movie in which a White guy learns not to be racist. The first third, there seemingly to insist that Tony is the main character, is shaggy. I would wager the men don't get into the car inside of forty minutes. But once we're on the tour? Man, is this a crowd pleaser. The men's respect for each other grows gracefully, and the film's proud sentimentality powers its best moments as they fly by at a clipped pace. I had given up on Farrelly after Hall Pass, which felt amateurish, so a work of such professionally manicured (manufactured?) emotion was a shock.

On a different note, are any of you interested in a thousand words on Linda Cardellini's posture?

22. Den of Thieves (Christian Gudegast)- Despite the February release date, a director with no track record, and the most #basic studio lead there is, Den of Thieves is a caper film as sprawling as it is humane. Even Potato-face Butler is perfect for his role.

I watched the unrated version, which should be called the "depressing version," since I know exactly what was cut. (Hint: The wordless scene of Butler's jilted family ignoring him when he sees them in the grocery store, not anything from the shoot-out.) There's a spot where I would end the movie, and it's way before the Keyser Soze epilogue, but this was a welcome surprise for me. The movie seems to find its star in O'Shea Jackson, Jr. as it goes, and I completely agree. Many more like this please.

21. The Front Runner (Jason Reitman)- Reitman starts with a complicated oner that cranes up and down, zooms in and out of new characters, and times itself perfectly to catch snatches of conversations about "how can you even lay this much cable?" And in all of its Altman-esque indulgence, it's kind of the movie in a nutshell. Something simple--a scene shot with one take--commenting on how damned hard it is. What seems like a straightforward thesis moves at a breakneck pace with a game ensemble until you realize that it was all more complicated than it seemed.

Hugh Jackman has the challenge of playing someone essentially unknowable, but he has an amazing moment in the first third. On the chartered boat called Monkey Business--such a bad look, dude--Gary Hart is composed and dignified until a woman we don't see* sits down across from him, and his whole affect changes. His guard drops, and he seems absorbed by her, giggly. We can't hear what he's saying, but he's asking her about herself and joking about himself. Both or one or neither of those personalities is the real guy. The Front Runner is a movie about a tragic Great Man, and they're always described as if they can't help themselves, as if they're fighting their demons until the magic moment when they aren't. Jackman made that magic real for me when Hart's personality fell out.

20. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (Joel Coen and Ethan Coen)- Patently uneven and bizarrely sequenced, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs doesn't stack up to the Coens' major works--though it demands another viewing. I did think, in all of its bleak absurdism, that it belongs in their neighborhood. To me, there's a dichotomy that most of the brothers' films trace. We're all doomed, but the force that does us in is sometimes fate (A Serious Man, Inside Llewyn Davis, The Hudsucker Proxy, No Country for Old Men) and sometimes the stupidity of other people (The Big Lebowski, Blood Simple, Burn After Reading, Miller's Crossing). This new movie seems to start with the latter, waver sometimes in the more interesting middle stories when Zoe Kazan and Tom Waits break my heart, then end up at the former. Tracking such a thing in miniature can be really instructive.

19. The Tale (Jennifer Fox)- If you can look past Common's goofy voice and the more afterschool special aspects of this movie, then you can realize that it should actually, as disturbing as it is, be an afterschool special. It spins its wheels sometimes, but the questions that this movie asks about memory and abuse are invaluable. Presenting a downright shocking portrayal of grooming and secrecy, it avoids easy answers and over-sympathizing with the protagonist all the way through. (Especially notable because the character is "Jennifer Fox," and the director is Jennifer Fox.)

Laura Dern remains Laura Dern, but I loved Jason Ritter in this. Exactly because he has been in a hundred failed sitcoms, he is terrifying here as a devilish knock-off of the type of guy approachable enough to be on TV.

18. Paddington 2 (Paul King)- At first, during the extended introduction, I was worried that Paddington 2 was falling prey to the curse of the sequel: more, not better. But as each family member pays off what we learned about him or her in the introduction during a sprightly train setpiece that owes more than a little to Keaton, I realized that I shouldn't have doubted the Paddington empathy machine. This one carries over the humor and sweetness but goes even harder on the pathos in its attempt to convince us to have good manners and care about the people around us. I'm not sure any other movie this year hit me harder than when the Browns don't show up for their weekly meeting at the jail.

Hugh Grant, an actor who always seems to be having fun, has never seemed as if he is having more fun.

17. Set It Up (Claire Scanlon)- I guess I believe in true love now.

16. Blindspotting (Carlos Lopez Estrada)- The stylized climax is going to be polarizing, but I thought it was a heightened, artful moment whose seeds had been sown throughout. The film meanders, but its angles on subjects like gentrification and probation and identity show tenderness and openness, and Estrada's visual energy recalls early Spike Lee or Jarmusch or Aronofsky. It's worth seeing if only for its fresh sense of place.

The two leads play off each other especially well. If Daveed Diggs is the fourth lead or whatever of Hamilton, then I guess I finally have to see it.

15. Incredibles 2 (Brad Bird)- Incredibles 2 is a good example of a sequel rhyming with the original in a way that doesn’t feel like a retread. Accidentally topical in its subtext about just rule of law, the film hits upon some of Brad Bird’s ideas of exceptionalism and hope for the future while being slightly more cogent in that messaging than the original. (Slightly. The villain problem is still there. If superheroes are already illegal, then why employ and promote them at all if your goal is to make them even more illegal?)

This entry is a bit more overstuffed, less timeless, and less funny than the original. There’s nothing on the level of “Honey, where is my super suit?” which I still say to my wife fourteen years later. But the fight choreography and the textural animation take advantage of the gap in between films. The Paar family dynamic is altered only slightly, but it’s enough to re-invent the proceedings. Violet has more confidence in herself, Dash is more in control of his powers, and it’s the, yes, thicc Elastigirl who is working solo this time. Especially in the opening sequence, we see how each character’s skills complement the others’. If Finding Dory is the bar for “sequels to Pixar movies that didn’t need sequels,” then Incredibles 2 leaps over that bar.

14. Chappaquiddick (John Curran)- "We need to tell the truth. Or at least our version of it."

After the Kennedy Curse claimed JFK Jr., it seemed as if the culture reached a saturation point with Kennedy coverage. Aside from the occasional "Look who's dating Taylor Swift," we gave them their space. Who would have thought that twenty years later would be the perfect time to dust off the coldest case in the dossier?

See, now that we're having a national conversation about who gets the breaks, there's a little bit of extra weight lent to a scene of Ted Kennedy waiting for a sheriff he summoned as he drafts a statement at that absent sheriff's desk. A sheriff who then helps Kennedy to escape through a backdoor lest he answer any untoward question about his manslaughter. The film is delivered with an even pitch--especially the Jason Clarke performance that could have been overdone--but it makes no mistake about its real subject: privilege.

The attempts to keep Kennedy safe become more brazen as the film goes on, and each dodged consequence--getting Teddy's driver's license renewed on the low, for example--is balanced by Ed Helms's desperate performance as a voice of integrity. In all of the best tragedies, we know what's going to happen in the end. All along, the Kennedy Curse was that they are not like the rest of us.

13. Love, Simon (Greg Berlanti)- Can we all agree that an anonymous gossip web site for a high school is a bad idea? And that, though the film doesn't pursue this angle, the vice principal is the one maintaining it?

This propulsive, observant, and witty movie is an outright pleasure from beginning to end. Hocking spitballs at its PG-13 rating, its greatest strengths are having the courage to get dark and having the wisdom to give every supporting character his or her own moment.

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