My Lover

Chapter 11

"So, when I say that you'd better come back here if you feel any kind of suicidal thoughts, I mean it." The doctor says. I nod.

"You ready to go, Lei?" Jace says. I nod and kiss him on the cheek. We get in the car and he drives me back to my apartment, placing his hand on my thigh like always. But... not in a teasing kind of way. In an, I'll put my hand here so you know I'm here for you, kind of way. He rubs my thigh gently, running his thumb over the healing scars on them. "Please never do this to yourself again. I genuinely don't think I can even handle the thought of it," He says, sighing. 

"I'm sorry. Really," I say. "I just felt like I was being suffocated and like there was nothing left for me." 

He nods and pulls into my driveway. "I'm gonna stay here with you for a while, I hope you know that," He says.

I snort. "With what clot--" He then takes 2 backpacks out of his trunk, and hauls them onto his back before going and putting them on the porch. "Don't tell me those are clothes."

"God, you talk too much." He says. 

"Mmm, then shut me up," I say. He dismisses my flirting attempt. How dare he? "Uhh, hello??? Why didn't you say anything?" I say.

"Well, because this isn't 365 days, Ma. This is real life, and you just got out of the hospital because of a suicide attempt. I'm not worried about fucking right now. And, to be honest? You shouldn't either. Now, let's get you a shower." He says.

I sigh in defeat, going into the apartment. "Fine." 

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He strokes my hair and I look up at him, just to see him falling asleep. Aww, how cute. I wait until he falls asleep then slide out from under his arm and go on the porch, lighting a blunt.

"Man, I miss you. And I'm gonna figure out who did this to you." I say, looking at the sky. I look at my phone and see it's midnight, and then my phone rings. "Hello?" I say, skeptically. 

"Hey, it's me. Mei. Can you come over?" She asks. I sigh. 

"I guess. Why?" I ask.

"Because I wanna talk." She says. 

"That's a reason, I guess," I say, and hang up. 

I grab my keys and drive to her place. I knock on the door and she opens it, in a robe and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. "Hey." She says, and I smile.

"Hey. How are you?" I ask.

"Good, but I'd be better if you'd come in." She says.

"Uh, sure," I say, before stepping inside the all too familiar living room of Mei. "What did you wanna talk about?" 

"Uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry. It's hardly your fault. It's my fault for trus--" She cuts me off by kissing me. Hard. I step back, stunned. "What the fuck, Mei??? Why the hell would you do that?!" I yell.

"Because I like you." She says. 

"Can I... Take a second to think?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure." She says, and I go in the bathroom. 

I sit on the sink and see a box poking out under it. Curious, I pick it up and open it. Just to see some of my very personal belongings in it. Like the bracelet I made her when I was 5, a tissue I wrote my number on, my lip gloss, and the Christmas gifts I got her over the years. Then I see more recent things, like the Polaroids we have together, the notes we passed in class, and the necklace I got her last year. And at the very bottom, I see a knife. Attached to the knife is a note, and I go to open it when she knocks at the door.

"You good in there?" She asks. 

"Yeah, just fixing my mascara!" I say. "I was crying!"

"Aww, baby!! Well, hurry up! You're taking hella long!" She says.

I sigh in relief. Then, I open the note and see a note in Nathan's handwriting. I read, eagerly. 

ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʟᴇɪʟᴀɴɪ,

ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴍʙ ꜱʜɪᴛ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ. ɪ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɪ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴇᴛ. ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅɪꜱʜ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄɪᴇꜱ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʀᴇᴄɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴍᴇɪ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜱᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ʙʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ) ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ... ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀʟɪꜰᴇ.

ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ

Why does everything that happens to me just seem to make everything worse and worse?