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olderwomenenthusiast · 6 days ago

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too late (calex)

PAIRING: casey novak & alex cabot DESCRIPTION: casey wants alex but she's too late CAUTION: emotional turmoil, unrequited love, jealousy, personal conflict, rejection & heartache WORD COUNT: 3.5k AUTHOR'S NOTE: ANGSTY ANGST, I'M SORRY MASTERLIST

The weight of the wine bottle in Casey’s hand felt heavier with every step she took toward Alex’s apartment, as if it somehow knew the enormity of what she was about to do. It had been sitting on her desk all day, a silent witness to her unraveling. A symbol of her decision. A risk she had finally gathered the courage to take.

She had bought it that morning, slipping into the liquor store with the kind of nervous energy she usually reserved for trial days. She had stood there longer than necessary, running her fingers over different labels, reading descriptions she barely absorbed. A bold red? Or something lighter, something smoother or something Alex would actually like? She had no idea why she was overthinking it. Alex probably wouldn’t even care what kind of wine it was.

Or maybe she would.

Maybe it would be the first thing she commented on, an amused smile curving at the edge of her lips as she took the bottle from Casey’s hands. Maybe she would tilt her head, blue eyes gleaming with curiosity, and tease, This is your grand romantic gesture? Wine? And maybe Casey would fumble for a response, or maybe she would just tell her the truth.

That she wanted her.

That she had always wanted her.

But that was later. That was the part of the night she still had control over. Right now, she just had to get through the day without completely losing her mind.

The hours at work had stretched endlessly, each one longer than the last. She had tried to focus, tried to drown herself in case files and legal briefs, but her mind refused to stay on task. Meetings blurred together, conversations became background noise.

When Donnelly had stopped by her office with notes on a motion, Casey had nodded along, pretending to listen, but all she could think about was tonight.

How would it go?

Would Alex be surprised? Amused? Would she laugh? The idea sent a wave of nausea through her.

But she had to believe it would go well. It had to.

The alternative was too painful to consider.

By the time she left the office, her nerves had settled into something steadier - less frantic, more determined. She took a cab across the city, gripping the bottle so tightly that the ridges of the label pressed into her palm. She watched the lights blur past the window, the hum of traffic filling the silence, and told herself over and over again: This is the right thing to do. You’re done hiding. You’re done pretending.

And for once, she believed it.

By the time she reached Alex’s building, the city had softened into evening. The air was crisp, the distant sounds of honking horns and chatter blending into a familiar symphony of New York nightlife. The glow of streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more significant.

Casey climbed the steps, her pulse thudding in her ears.

She paused in front of the door, inhaling sharply. Just knock. Three simple taps. That was all it would take to change everything.

But just as she lifted her hand, movement from the window caught her eye.

And the world stopped turning.

Inside, bathed in the soft golden light of the apartment, Alex sat curled on her couch, laughter spilling from her lips like something effortless. She looked… happy. Unburdened.

Casey felt the warmth of that smile like a punch to the gut.

And then she saw her.

Another woman sat close - closer than Casey had ever dared to sit - her body angled toward Alex, a wine glass resting between her fingers. She was leaning in, murmuring something, and Alex—Alex—tilted her head, smiling in a way that was soft. Intimate.

It was the kind of smile Casey had spent years secretly craving. The kind of ease and familiarity she had wanted, but had never quite been allowed.

Casey’s fingers tightened around the bottle, the glass cool against her skin, grounding her even as the rest of her body went numb.

For a few agonizing seconds, she told herself she was misreading the situation. Maybe this was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.

But then Alex reached out. Just a small gesture, barely anything at all and tucked a strand of hair behind the woman’s ear.

And that... that was the moment Casey felt something inside her crack.

The air in her lungs went thin, her stomach twisted into a painful knot, and suddenly, she was cold.

She had spent all day—all damn day—working up the courage to tell Alex how she felt.

And for what?

To stand outside in the freezing night air like some idiot with a bottle of wine in her hands, watching as someone else took the moment that should have been hers?

The weight of it was unbearable.

Her grip on the bottle tightened for a second, and for the briefest, most irrational moment, she considered knocking anyway. Stepping inside, interrupting, saying something before it was too late.

But it was too late.

It had always been too late. She had just been too blind - too cowardly - to see it.

Her chest ached, a slow, deep throb that settled into her bones.

She took a step back. Then another.

The city stretched out behind her, still alive, still moving, as if nothing had changed. As if her world hadn’t just cracked down the middle.

Alex was happy.

And Casey… Casey had missed her chance.

She exhaled shakily, turning away from the apartment, her fingers still wrapped around the bottle like it was the only thing keeping her together.

She should have told her sooner.

She should have told her before it was too late.

But she hadn’t.

And now, she never would.

Casey’s fingers tightened instinctively around the bottle of wine, its cool glass biting into her skin as she forced herself to keep walking away from Alex’s apartment. Each step felt like a weight dragging her down, the sounds of the city growing more distant as the chill in the evening air seemed to press against her chest. Her heart thudded in her ears, loud and frantic, a constant reminder that she had just watched something she could never have. The laughter. The warmth. The connection Alex had with someone else.

It was foolish to think she could just walk in there, tell her how she felt, and everything would change, Casey told herself. You were stupid to think you could have her.

Her thoughts spiraled as she moved through the streets, the hum of late-night traffic blending with the soft tap of her heels against the sidewalk. She pulled her coat tighter, trying to block out the cold, but nothing could block the ice that had settled in her chest. She couldn’t escape the heaviness in her heart.

She tried to drown it out.

Work. Work was supposed to help.

For the next few days, she threw herself into her cases, burying herself in the mountain of legal briefs and motions that awaited her. The pages became her refuge, the hum of the office her only company. It was easier to focus on the black-and-white clarity of the law than to wrestle with the mess inside her. The distant hum of the fluorescent lights overhead became a constant backdrop as she lost herself in the rhythm of typing and filing.

But it wasn’t enough to mask the distance growing between her and Alex.

The sound of laughter from coworkers became her second skin - something that let her breathe, but never let her truly feel. The nights were long, fueled by too much alcohol and the uncomfortable, hollow camaraderie of people who would never know her.

When she got back to the office late one evening, she passed Alex in the hallway. Alex flashed her that easy smile, the one that always made Casey’s chest tighten in an entirely different way. It was warm, genuine, but tonight it felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Casey smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her stomach twisted as she watched Alex walk past her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let Alex see how much it hurt.

The next day, the tension between them was palpable, like a wire stretched so tight it was ready to snap. Small things. Tiny moments.

Casey avoiding her gaze when their eyes met across the room.

The way Alex seemed to linger, as though waiting for something from her, but never quite saying it.

The silence between them was a constant, a low hum that colored every conversation, every exchange.

And Alex noticed. Of course, Alex noticed.

The courthouse was a maze of paperwork and final motions, the usual rhythm of the day wearing on Casey’s nerves like sandpaper. The click of her heels against the polished tile echoed through the empty hallway, the only sound filling the otherwise quiet space. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the sterile brightness of the hallway blinding in its harshness. She walked with purpose, keeping her head down, eager to get out of there and into the silence of her apartment, where she could close her eyes and pretend none of it was happening.

But the sharp sound of footsteps behind her broke through the hum of the building, drawing her attention.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to keep her steps steady, but her heart had begun to race.

“Casey.”

The voice was low, cutting through the air like a whip. It stopped her in her tracks, and she felt the sudden weight of it, a pressure that made her throat tighten. She didn’t turn immediately, keeping her face towards the wall as though that would somehow shield her from the inevitable confrontation.

“Alex,” she said, her voice too casual, too cold. She couldn’t keep the tremor from her hands, but she didn’t let it show.

“Why are you acting like this?” Alex’s voice was quieter now, but the frustration in it was unmistakable. “You’re distant. You don’t laugh at my jokes anymore. You avoid me when we’re in the same room. And don’t tell me it’s just work. I can see it. I’ve seen the way you’ve been pulling away.”

The sound of Alex’s footsteps drew closer, and Casey’s pulse quickened. The sound of the building - its hum, its sterile buzz - suddenly felt suffocating. The cold air from the open windows nearby hit her face, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising in her chest.

Just walk away. Don’t let her see it. Don’t let her see you break.

But she couldn’t. She felt rooted to the spot, like the weight of Alex’s gaze was a force she couldn’t escape.

“I’m fine,” Casey said, her voice strained as she finally turned to face her. She tried to smile, but it felt forced, a mask that wouldn’t stay in place. She could feel her chest tightening, the words coming out like sandpaper. “It’s nothing, really.”

Alex stood there for a moment, her eyes narrowing, trying to read her, and Casey could see the hurt flicker across her face. God, how long had Alex been waiting for her to just say something?

Alex didn’t let up. “You’re lying, Casey.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, but it was insistent. She stepped closer, and the space between them seemed to shrink until the weight of the moment pressed in on both of them. “I know you. You’re not okay. What’s going on? Why are you pulling away?”

Casey’s breath hitched in her chest. Her throat tightened, and she fought to keep the tears at bay. The truth was there, right at the edge of her tongue, begging to be set free, but it felt like a chasm between them - too wide to cross, too dangerous to even try.

“Nothing’s going on, Alex,” she said again, her voice hoarse, more desperate this time. She turned away from her, willing herself to keep it together, to push the words back down. “I just need space. It’s nothing.”

But Alex didn’t let her go. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Casey’s arm, a tentative touch that sent a shock of warmth through her.

“Don’t lie to me. You’re shutting me out, Casey. And I don’t know why, but I can’t… I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine.” Alex’s voice trembled slightly, and Casey could see the edge of something raw in her eyes. “You’re pulling away, and it’s hurting.”

Casey’s chest ached, and she fought back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to turn around and tell Alex everything - tell her how she had always felt, how she had spent years hiding it, how she had convinced herself that the timing was wrong, that Alex was never going to feel the same.

But she couldn’t.

“I’m just tired,” Casey whispered, unable to look at her, unable to face the truth that was breaking her inside. “I just need some space, Alex. Please.”

There was a long silence between them. The soft hum of the courthouse, the distant echo of footsteps, the ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall—all of it blurred into white noise as Casey stood there, a fractured mess of emotions that she couldn’t let Alex see.

Finally, Alex took a step back, her gaze softening, though the hurt remained. She nodded slowly, as if accepting the wall Casey had put up between them.

“Alright,” Alex said quietly. “But don’t take too long. I’m not going anywhere. I'm your friend.”

Casey didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she turned and walked away, her steps measured, slow, as the space between them widened with each passing moment. She could still feel the weight of Alex’s gaze on her back, and it only made the emptiness inside her grow.

But she couldn’t turn around. Not now. Not when the truth felt like it might break everything she had ever known.

The message is short. Too short. A simple: "Drinks tonight? We need to talk."

Casey stares at her phone, her pulse quickening as the words blur on the screen. We need to talk. What the hell does that even mean? For days she has replayed the moment she saw Alex through the window—the laugh, the touch, the way that woman had leaned in just a little too close. And now this, an invitation to talk.

Talk? About what?

A part of her wants to ignore it, to pretend she didn’t see it, to bury the memory deep and keep pretending like she’s fine. But she knows she’s not fine. She hasn’t been fine for years. And so she types a response, fingers shaking. “Sure. What time?” She doesn’t know why she says yes, why she’s walking into this again, but she knows she can’t stay away.

The bar is too familiar. Dimly lit, heavy with the smell of whiskey and stale beer, the hum of voices surrounding them like a storm just waiting to break. Casey steps through the door, her legs unsteady, her heart pounding so loud it’s all she can hear. Every step feels like a mile, every inch closer to Alex feels like she’s walking to her own doom.

Alex is sitting at their usual corner table, wine glass in hand, looking more at ease than Casey feels. Her eyes flick up from the glass as Casey approaches, but they don’t linger. They never linger anymore.

Casey sits down, the weight of the chair feeling like a thousand pounds. Her hands are shaking, her fingers gripping her drink so tightly it might crack. She wants to speak, to say something - anything - to break the silence, but the words feel trapped, lost somewhere between fear and regret. The tension between them is suffocating, and she can’t breathe.

Alex doesn’t wait. She speaks, her voice too casual, too sharp. “I saw you,” she says, eyes flickering up to meet Casey’s. “Outside my place, that night. You didn’t look happy.”

Casey feels her stomach churn. You didn’t look happy. The words echo in her mind like a cruel taunt. She tries to keep her face neutral, but she knows it’s useless. Alex sees through her. She always has.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” Casey says, her voice strained, her words brittle as they leave her mouth. She forces a smile, though it feels like it’s breaking her from the inside. “It’s nothing. I don’t care.”

Alex doesn’t seem convinced. She leans in just slightly, her gaze never wavering. “You were looking for something,” she presses, the words like a sharp blade. “I can tell.”

Casey feels the walls start to crack. She’s drowning in this conversation, in the way Alex’s eyes are searching her like she’s the answer to some puzzle she doesn’t want to solve. But she can’t give in. She can’t let her see the broken pieces inside.

“I was just trying to move on,” Casey mutters, her voice coming out tight, almost desperate. “From everything. From us.” She barely even recognizes her own words. The lie tastes bitter in her mouth, but it’s all she has left.

Alex stares at her, a flicker of something passing across her face - disappointment? Pity? Casey can’t tell. “You’re lying,” Alex says, her voice soft but cutting. “I know you, Casey. I know when you’re lying.”

Casey looks down at the table, unable to meet Alex’s eyes. She wants to run. She wants to escape the weight of Alex’s words, the suffocating truth that she’s been lying to herself for so long.

And then, Alex speaks again, quieter this time. “I don’t want you to move on but you have to.” The words hang in the air like a confession, soft and full of something Casey can’t quite grasp. But they don’t soothe her. Instead, they twist the knife deeper, because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Casey swallows, her throat dry, her heart breaking in her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but the words stick in her throat. She’s out of time. Out of space.

“I don’t want to move on either,” Casey admits before she can stop herself. The words spill out, raw and shaking. “I just... I’ve spent so long pretending it didn’t matter. Pretending that I didn’t care.” Her voice cracks, but she pushes forward, trying to push down the flood of emotion threatening to consume her. “I thought maybe... maybe it could be different. Maybe you felt it too.”

But Alex isn’t looking at her anymore. She’s staring down at her glass, a dark silence falling over them. Casey feels her breath catch in her throat.

“I’ve already moved on, Casey,” Alex says, her voice distant, colder now. “I don’t know what you thought was going to happen, but it’s too late.”

Too late. The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Too late.

Casey’s world seems to tilt, her chest tightening with every heartbeat. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if she can handle the finality of it. Too late. It’s the one thing that stings the most, the truth that shatters her.

And then, just as she’s about to crumble into the space between them, she sees her.

The woman.

She walks in, head held high, laughing at something someone said as she enters the bar. It’s the same woman Casey saw with Alex that night - the woman who had made Casey’s stomach drop, the one who had made the world feel small and suffocating when she saw them together.

She’s holding Alex’s gaze as she approaches the table, her smile wide, unbothered. It’s effortless. The easy way she slides into the booth next to Alex, the way she touches her arm, just a little too intimate. The thing that Casey has been avoiding - the thing that stabs at her heart.

It’s too much.

Casey’s breath hitches, her vision blurring. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. So this is it. She thought there was still a chance, still a thread she could hold onto, but now, it’s gone.

Alex looks at her, that familiar softness in her eyes, but it’s not for Casey anymore. Not now. Not ever again.

“Casey,” Alex says, her voice distant, apologetic. “This is Lara. I’ve been seeing her for a while now.”

Lara looks at Casey, eyes flicking over her briefly, a flicker of curiosity, maybe pity. But Casey doesn’t care. The words are nothing. The truth is clear.

Too late.

Casey stands up, the world spinning around her, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about the soft touch Alex places on her arm, doesn’t care about the whispered apology or the regret in Alex’s eyes. None of it matters. Nothing matters anymore.

She turns and walks out of the bar, the door slamming behind her, but even that can’t drown out the words that echo in her mind.

Too late.

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