How Does Your Heart Beat

Disclaimer: These Characters do not belong to me. They are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB Network, and whoever else that has rights to BTVS.
Summary: Xander and Willow have to define their relationship. May or may not turn out the way you hope. ;)
Rating: PG

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How Does Your Heart Beat was nominated for a Golden Frog Award in the category of Best Tear Jerker/Sad Fic.

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How Does Your Heart Beat

by: Amy

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He knew the moment when he fell in love with her. Because, as much as he wished for it when they first kissed, it hadn't been about love then. At least not for him. It had been about realization and wanting and unadulterated lust. And, shamefully, jealousy. That another man had her, had this woman who he needed. Because, though he wasn't sure of his feelings yet, he did know that he needed her. The only stable person in his life.

Sometimes he thought, the only one who loved him too.

So no, the kiss came first. The love came later.

He watched her wrinkle her brow and watched her bite her lip as she erased a problem he had been working on for school. And then the love came. Just like that, he was in love with her.

It was new and familiar at the same time. The way, he supposed, it was supposed to feel when you fell in love with the person you were supposed to be with.

They had been lying across on her bed, and the dipping sun had highlighted her hair and face and eyes. Had her eyes always been that green? Was that actually gold he saw in them? Were her lips softer than he remembered? She turned to him with a smile, a warm and friendly smile.

Had her smile always been so pretty?

He had noticed her before, of course he had. He wouldn't have kissed her if he hadn't. But suddenly she was softer, sweeter, purer, warmer, touchable. His heart ached in a way it never had before.

"Xander?" she asked, and he realized she had been talking to him.

He swallowed thickly. "Yeah?"

"I found what you did wrong. It's nothing big, really...." She pointed to the equation and began explaining how to go about getting the right answer, but Xander was entranced. Her motions seemed slower, and faster, and everything was different. He looked outside, at the sun that he could barely see over the horizon.

*That* was the real sun, the way a sun should look. Molten and perfect, always lighting up the world and his life. He didn't want the sun to disappear entirely, because he was afraid that with it, the color of Willow's eyes, the prettiness of her smile, the softness of her voice, would disappear also.

And then it was gone, though the sky was still rich with golds and pinks, and he turned back to her. She was still as beautiful, still as much her as she had been a moment before. His hand reached out and he touched her hair. Silky, it slipped through his fingers.

Willow turned to him in surprise. Her voice was questioning and-- was he imagining it?-- a little afraid. "Xander?"

He shook his head silently, and leaned forward, wanting nothing more than to kiss her when he felt like this. Would it be different? he wondered. It was. Their mouths met, and it was as explosive as before, but different too, like he was kissing her for the first time, like Willow and Xander, the best friends who had known each other their whole lives, were actually the ones who had discovered and invented the wonderful and intimate act of kissing.

The kiss went on and on, and soon he was lying half on top of her, and her hands were gripping handfuls of his shirt. She loved him too, he felt with a sudden stirring in his heart. And it was just as good, if not better than he had hoped and expected.

And then her hands were on his chest and she was pushing him away, scrambling off the bed to stand and straighten her skirt, which had been hiked up to her thighs as they had kissed. Her face was flushed a cute little pink, and her nose was wrinkled in embarrassment, and Xander had never found her more charming.

"What was that?" she asked angrily.

"A kiss. I would have thought you'd know," he answered calmly, amused. Why was she mad? She had felt it too, hadn't she?

"Xander, this is insane. You need to leave. I thought we were at a place where this would never happen again. I thought... I thought..." Willow floundered for words. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," he agreed. "And I'm in love with you."

Oops. Did he just say that?

She looked at him, aghast. "Did you just say that?"

Guess so.

Slowly, he nodded, not breaking contact with those extraordinary eyes of hers. "Yeah. I did. And you're in love with me."

"You need to go, Xander," Willow said firmly, turning to the window to look out at the sky that had reached a light blue color, a sky that had a sprinkling of stars that weren't as brilliant as her face.

Xander sighed and got up. "Call me, Willow. When you realize that I'm telling the truth, about both our feelings."

He left.

Willow thought he might have taken the answer with him.

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How can he do this to me? After so long, after so little, how can he suddenly *announce* that he's in love with me? And that I'm in love with him? The kiss scared me, I admit. It scared me more than I have been in a long time. Kissing him was felt so good, but was it really right? For either of us?

I could feel the answer; It seemed like it was on the edge of my vision, just out of my sight and reach and hearing. Taunting me. Do I tell Oz? Do I make my life different? I didn't know. There was no way I could know-- This question came out of nowhere, when before there had just been a comfortable friendship, a place we had both worked so hard at getting back to.

I thought the days of worry were behind us. And confusion.

Now there's a gaping hole where the answer should be, and I'm left wondering if I should pick Oz or Xander.

The man who I loved nearly my entire life, or the first man to ever return my love...

I laughed, sadly, to myself. I shouldn't have even had to ask.

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He came over as soon as she called. Her voice had been tentative on the phone, and all she would say was that she had thought it over and wanted to talk to him. Xander knocked on her door and then entered without letting her bother to invite him in.

"Yeah?" Breathless. Waiting.

Willow walked over to him. "Xander..."

Xander saw a shadow pass over her eyes, and he looked down. "Wait. Just, wait for a second." She hesitated, and he took the opportunity to take her hand in his. He looked down at their joined hands for several seconds. "They fit," he whispered. "Like us."

She opened her mouth to talk again, but again, he interrupted her by shaking his head. Taking her hand, he lifted it up to his chest and spread her palm flat so she could feel his heart beating. "That... That's for you now. Yours. It does that for you," he said quietly.

Tears welled up in her eyes; the green he had come to love so much, to crave to see became glassy and misted very quickly. Her smile trembled.

Willow took his hand then, and laid it over her chest. Xander could feel the warm, steady thumping underneath her shirt and skin and his body and heart reacted at the same time, shifting into something that was always supposed to be there.

"That," Willow said, "Was for you for a long time. But now it's Oz's. Now it's his. And though a lot of it still belongs to you, in friendship and other ways I won't let myself think about, the majority goes to him. I love him, Xander. I do. I don't see that changing for a long time, if ever." Her voice was gentle, apologetic, because she knew she was breaking his heart in a way that hers had been broken numerous times, a way that was hard to accept and move on from.

Xander took his hand away from her heart. "Not mine?" he asked hoarsely, numbly.

She shook her head slowly. "Not anymore. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Wills." He said it quietly, looking at his hands. "I'm not sorry that I love you... But I'm sorry that you don't love me. I'll always be sorry."

She nodded. "Are we friends?"

"No."

Tears brimmed her eyes again, but she nodded in understanding. Xander caught her look and sighed, taking her palm and stroking it softly. "Not for a while, if that's okay. Falling in love with you was so easy, that I don't know why I never did it before. But I'm guessing it's not going to be as easy to fall out."

"It's not. I'm sorry for that too."

Xander let go of her hand and turned, leaving without another word.

And Willow cried.

It was an ending and perhaps a beginning, but she didn't know then and didn't want to. It hurt, and she accepted the pain, because it was an integral part of her relationship with Xander, because loving him had also been one of the hardest things she had ever had to get over.

She walked over to the window and watched the sun lower itself, as it did every day. Watched the sky become gold and pink and purple and then different shades of blue. Watched the stars appear and twinkle, unknowing and uncaring of the pain she was in and had just caused her best friend. Watched the wind ruffle the black tops of trees, and wanted to feel like that, wanted to feel that free and floating.

And as she watched, she didn't know that Xander was watching her.

The sun still painted her face with natures beauty. The stars still didn't compare to her. The sound of the wind was nothing when he heard her voice. The chill in the air slowly wrapped around his heart, and he walked away.

She saw him then, passing under a street lamp, and her heart ached. She had made the right decision, but it still hurt. It might forever.

Wiping away her tears, she turned to the phone and picked it up.

She needed to hear Oz's voice.

The End

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I didn't come this far
for you to make this hard for me.
And now you want to ask me "how"?

It's like-
How does your heart beat,
Why do you breathe?
How does your heart beat,
And why do you breathe?

Why did you come here?
You weren't invited.
And you're on the outside-
Stay on the outside.
And now you want to ask me "why"?

It's like-
How does your heart beat?
And why do you cry?
How does your heart beat?

And there are some things that I like to figure out.
There are some things that I can do without-
You and your letters are gone forever.

You and the people,
They were never friends,
Never friends,
Never friends...

With all the things that you could be.
You never could learn how to be me.
And now you want to ask me "how"?

It's like-
How does your heart beat,
Why do you breathe?
How does your heart beat,
Why do you breathe?

How do you breathe?