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thatesqcrush · 4 years

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Fall From Grace, Pt. 8

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Fandom: The Good Fight. Reference: S4, E.4, “The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It.” CW: Angst, language.

AN: Our lovely REE was on The Good Fight for all of 3 minutes so I am taking lots of liberties. I am obsessed with the anti-Barba. He was just delicious.

AN2: I may have been inspired slightly by that horrible Barba episode that I pretend doesn’t exist - you may recognize what Barba said to Liv. So credit to SVU, S.19, E. 13, The Undiscovered Country.

AN3: Bryan’s outfit was inspired by Chef Harry. So if you don’t know what that looks like, may I present you...

Reading your text caused Bryan’s heart to lurch.

He slammed his glass of whiskey back, swallowing it hole. He was tempted to respond but instead he did not. Not right away at least. He mulled over what Marissa had said: “All this fussing to say you care? Sounds like love to me.”

Love.

He wasn’t one for love. Life was like an old black and white movie; he was absolutely sure who were the good guys and the bad guys – nine times out of ten, he was the good guy in court, but the bad guy in relationships. And then you had weaseled your way into his world and black and white became different shades of gray. And then it became blues and greens.

He then recalled Marissa’s other advice: Be honest about what you want. All it takes is some communication.

But it seemed you didn’t want to have any opportunity to talk to him.

Never one to back down from a challenge, he decided he was going to make his own opportunity. Bryan knew he fucked up and he vowed to himself to make it up to you – if only you’d let him.

And he hoped you would.

You walked up the sidewalk to your apartment, hands full of empty boxes. You had made sure to get to the market early so you could get the good boxes – otherwise you were stuck with the boxes that smelled like melon.

You made your way back into your apartment. It wasn’t that hot yet, so you opened the window to let the morning breeze come in. You asked Alexa to play your favorite playlist and then tied your hair into a pony-tail.

Packing sucked. But you had movers coming in three days and you needed to get your affairs in order.

Hours later, you still had a ways to go but you had a good section done. You needed more boxes so you made plans to pick up some more, resigning that some of your stuff would smell like melon after all.

Exhausted, you collapsed on your couch with a cool compress on your forehead. “Mmmm, just need a nap.” You mumbled to yourself.

Your eyes felt heavy and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were out. You sighed contentedly, ready for the sleep to settle in when the loud roar of a motorcycle startled you awake. Annoyed, you walked over to the window to close it when you noticed who was getting off the motorcycle.

It was Bryan.

He looked up towards the apartment windows and you immediately ducked your head, hitting it on the head of the window frame.

“Son of bitch!” You moaned, rubbing your head. You could hear your phone buzzing in the distance and you knew it was Bryan calling. You didn’t pick up, instead choosing to head downstairs to meet him outside.

With every step down, you felt the knots in your stomach grow. With a deep breath, you opened the main entrance door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Bryan looked up from his cellphone and gave you what you were certain was a genuine smile.

You didn’t let it sway you.

You looked both ways before crossing the street. You felt woefully under-dressed – more of a hot mess if you will. You were in grey sweat shorts and a dark blue fitted t-shirt. And you would be damned if you didn’t admit how good he looked. Especially in the leather jacket. He wore faded black jeans and a dark grey Henley. A gold chain glinted under the few buttons of the Henley that were undone.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed at Bryan.

“We need to talk.” Bryan replied, removing his helmet. “Can I come up and talk to you for a few minutes?”

“About what?” You asked, with a sneer. You crossed your arms under your chest. “I don't think that's a good idea.

“Because of what might happen?”

“Because it's not a good time.”

“You’re quitting. You’re leaving.” Bryan tossed his helmet from hand to hand. “You’re not leaving me with much of an option.”

“I told you – there is no reason for me to stay.”

Bryan sighed and placed his helmet on the seat of his bike. “That’s not entirely true. Can we please go upstairs and talk?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Fine, but don’t get any funny ideas. I hope you know that I hate you from the bottom of my vagina.”

Bryan cocked his head, covering his mouth that was threatening to twitch into a smile. “Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and the two of you made way back into the apartment. Bryan felt his heart sink further as he took in the sight of your half-packed apartment. You really were leaving. And it was his fault.

You looked over your shoulder. “Do you want anything to drink? I have vodka in the freezer, soda and water.”

“Water is just fine.”

You stood behind your breakfast bar – the idea that somehow it served as a barrier between you and Bryan was almost laughable. There was a part of you that wanted to fling yourself over and kiss him. But you held your ground.

Bryan took the water and drank it before sitting on your couch. You eyed him warily; you could feel your heart thumping in your chest and your stomach was in knots. Bryan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through to your text, and murmured the majority before speaking at full volume: I picked NYC because the man who doesn’t love me isn’t there.”

“I know what I said Bryan.”

“The implication is that I don’t love you. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“Don’t you dare say it, Bryan!”

“I love you.”

You felt all the air get sucked out of your lungs.

“Goddammit Bryan! You broke my heart!” You turned your back to him and roughly opened the fridge to grab something for yourself to drink. You used the tip of your nail to open the can of soda. “You think you can waltz in here on your bike, looking good…because damn, you do look so good… say these things and have me pretend like what happened never happened? You were an asshole!” You shout as you pivoted back to face him. And instead you came face to face with him. Your mind flashed back to your initial run-in with him – the start of everything. Your eyes welled with tears.

“I was.”

A tear escaped your eye. Bryan used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away and you bowed your head slightly, in near defeat.

“I think you love me too.” Bryan replied softly, cupping your chin to face him. “I feel fairly certain that there is still something between us. I know that you're angry. You have every right to be. I fucked up.”

You didn’t respond.

“I miss you. I've missed you. You should know that. I lie in bed at night and I think about us, I think about all of our time together. I should have told you how I felt. How I feel.” Brian continued.

You jutted your chin out of his grasp. “Don’t. You don’t get to do this to me.” You scanned your apartment. “I have to finish packing.”

You turned to move past Bryan, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. You had a sense of déjà vu . The last time you were this physically close to Bryan, he kissed you hard and you smacked him in response. The kiss this time was deliberately soft. Bryan’s cologne overwhelmed your senses. You pressed yourself, leaning up to return the kiss. Bryan groaned as your tongue swirled around his and he wrapped his arms around your waist. It was so easy to get caught up into the kiss and to lose yourself in the passion.

You forced yourself to break the kiss. You looked up at Bryan, searching his green eyes. Tears streaked your cheeks. “I’m sorry Bryan. I can’t. I… just don’t know if I can trust you anymore. You treated me like shit for no reason.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please.” Bryan near begged. “We can work this out. Please don’t leave. Give me a chance.” His voice cracked.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve got to move on. Please leave.”

Bryan’s face, once somber, turned stoic. He cleared his throat. “Fine. Good luck with the move.” His voice was clipped and inwardly you winced.

You walked Bryan out and shut the door behind him with a click. For good measure, you made sure to bolt the door. You watched him get on his motorcycle from your window and as he kicked it into gear, you burst into tears.

Because Bryan was right. You were in love with him.

Days later, the last of the movers had packed your boxes in their truck. You reached into your pocket and left your copy of the key on the breakfast bar. You checked your phone to make sure your boarding pass was loaded. It was and you used the opportunity to check into your flight.

There was a knock on the door. “Ms. Y/L/N?”

You jumped, startled. Turning around, you eyed the delivery man. “That is me. Can I help you?”

The delivery man smiled in relief. “Oh good. I managed to catch you before you left. I have a delivery from a Mr. Kneef.”

You frowned. “Okay. Let me get my wallet to tip you.”

“No need, already taken care of.” The delivery man replied. He set the bag on the breakfast bar, by your key. You wished him well and then turned to the small delivery bag.

In it, was a box of English toffee from Cora Lee. It was your favorite candy that only came around during firm victories. You wondered how he knew - but at the same time, it didn’t surprise you that he knew. In addition, there was a long red box from Cartier, which contained a delicate diamond tennis bracelet.

There was also a note.

NYC is so lucky to have you.

Yours – always.

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