"Hey," Xander said as he neared Willow.
"Hey," she returned, her head bowed and her fingers picking at her corduroys.
"So..." He didn't know what to say. He knew why she had been avoiding him and why she was now quiet. "What's up?"
Willow drew in a breath, finally looking at her long time friend. "Not much. How's your neck?"
Xander nodded as his teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. "It's, uh, it's a pain." He paused for a moment. "Get it a pain in the neck?" He threw her one of his goofy grin.
"Yeah, I got it, Xander. It wasn't funny, so I didn't laugh."
"Well, gee, Willow, it was nice talking to you," Xander said, his eyes narrow as he brushed by her.
"What do you expect, Xander?" He turned around to see her standing there, her eyes brimming with tears. "Want me to say congratulations? Well, good going, Xander, you fucked a whore!" His mouth dropped having never heard his friend use those words. "You want me to be happy for you?"
"No," Xander replied quietly. "I don't care if your happy for me, Willow. There's no way you can be. To be happy for me would mean that you would have to actually acknowledge I was here."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that ever since you chose Oz, you can't so much as acknowledge that I'm around. When's the last time we had a conversation that was about something other than freaky Hellmouth stuff? And Christmas, what about that? You knew that I'd be alone and you didn't even say anything. Although, why am I shocked? You've known about me sleeping outside since we were ten and you've never said anything. And then what about when those big hairy Apocalypse demon chicks were in town? You couldn't get far enough away from me. And don't you think that you could at least pretend that you care that every time Cordelia makes fun of me about my family that it hurts me?"
"So, what? Are you saying that all that made you to bed down with Faith? It's my fault?"
"No. It's not your fault. I chose to be with Faith. It's my doing. But you have no right to judge me. I'm not going to apologize to you for doing something that didn't concern you. Let's not forget who picked whom here. As I recall, all your 'things' had to be for Oz. And I'm cool with that, Will, but you can't expect me to sit around and watch. Did you think that I should just sit and wait?"
Willow didn't answer; she just pursed her lips.
"Well, sorry that I've disappointed you yet again, Willow. I'm sorry that I can't live up to your expectations. But I'm not going to wait for you, and do you want to know why? Because you don't love me like that, and you know it. But just like when you were five, you can't stand to share."
"Shut up, Xander."
"What? You don't like that someone is actually taking you down off the pedestal? Don't like that someone is actually reaffirming your fears? You're not perfect, Willow. You're just like the rest of us."
Willow looked at him with fire in her eyes. "Why are you being so mean?"
"I'm not being mean," he said calmly. "I'm just tired of you making me feel like I'm such a huge disappointment to you. I already know all of that. I have my parents and Cordelia and the rest of Sunnydale to tell me what a loser I am. I don't need my best friend to do it too."
Willow had had enough. Stomping her foot on the ground, she willed her tears away. "I hate you, Xander."
"Yeah, I know. But I don't hate you. I don't need you to be exactly how I want you to be to love you. I wish you felt the same for me. I'm tired of trying to live up to your expectations and failing. I'm tired of the looks of disappointment. So, before you judge me again, look at yourself, Willow."
Willow's face was bright red with anger and she was about to reply when Oz walked up. "Uh, hey, guys." He looked from Willow to Xander then back to Willow again. "I'm sensing some tension. What's up?"
Xander waited for Willow to respond, but when she didn't, he spoke. "I slept with Faith, Willow's disappointed with me, nothing new there." He turned, throwing over his shoulder, "See you later, Oz."
Walking away, Xander felt a large piece of his heart break off and float away.
End