ᴀᴅ ᴍᴇʟɪᴏʀᴀ ~ ᴅᴘꜱ (ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴇᴋꜱ)

25 - interlude

"He'll be here."

"Is your sound-box broken? Why do you keep saying that?"

"I'd stop saying it," she says, raising her voice, "if you'd shut the fuck up and wait."

I step back from her, physically recoiling from the sudden hostility. "Okay, we can wait. Jesus. It's not that serious..."

A cold gust blows past, tussling Amy's hair. She makes no attempt to fix it or even acknowledge it. "He'll be here," she whispers in place of an apology.

-

15 more minutes.

I lost feeling in my fingers a while ago. My feet are so numb, you could convince me I never had them in the first place. I can't put up with this much longer.

"Look—" I start, standing my ground a few feet from my roommate, "we're both cold, it's late, and we've waited almost an hour. He's not coming. Can we please, please just try again tomorrow?"

"And what if there isn't tomorrow, Ivy?" she snaps back. "What makes you think that anything or anyone owes you tomorrow?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I yell,  throwing up my hands. For the first time since I met her, I think I see Amy shrink back from my anger. Her flinch softens me for a moment. I drop my hands quickly, an apology already forming on my lips, when she repeats:

"He'll be here."

I take on a kinder tone. "No, he won't. Amy, please, let's just—"

Amy cuts me off with a choked sob. Her cigarette falls out of her hand and hits the ground soundlessly. She goes down less gracefully, collapsing to her knees only moments later.

"Oh sh— Amy!" I drop to the ground, engulfing her in a hug. Her body rattles as she cries, fighting against my embrace while still wholeheartedly relying on it. I hold her tight for fear that, if I let go, she'll sink down into the Earth.

"He'll, he- be, he told me..." she mutters between weeps.

"It's okay, you're okay," I console, carefully repositioning myself beside her. As I shift, something hot burns against my ankle. I look down to see Amy's cigarette resting between my leg and hers. I wince, kicking it away to reveal a dull mark on my ankle and a bright burn on her calf. It must have been there from the moment she dropped it, yet she didn't move it. She didn't even notice.

-

Another 15 minutes.

Tears trail down my roommate's face, snaking along a streaky black path of her ruined mascara, diverging only when redirected by her rattling sobs, for 15 minutes.

I sit by her side the entire time, slowly coaxing her down from hysteria. It hurts me- no, kills me to see her like this. I want it to stop, I really do, but I can't help until she finds her words again.

So instead I wait, and I console her, and I hold her.

Once her weeps slowly dampen into sniffles and coughs, I decide to try again: "We can call Charlie once we get back to the dorm. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't intentionally leave you hanging like this. Hell, none of them would."

She makes a feeble attempt at laughing, accompanying it with a pained cough. "I'm not
so sure about that now."

"Come on," I say, pulling away from her gingerly. She hesitates, but still lets go nonetheless. "Don't hold it against Charlie."

She scoots towards the brick wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them close. "I'm not talking about Charlie."

Soot from past cigarettes streaks from the sidewalk towards the wall where Amy sits. I fiddle with the edge of my skirt, revealing similar black stains on the fabric.

"I just don't understand how you're so calm about all this."

I snicker. "I've had my fair share of breakdowns, Amy. I know how to handle them with other people."

"No, no. I mean..." She pauses. "You know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Shit, Ivy." She wipes her nose with her sleeve. "Don't make me say it out loud. Please."

"What?"

She looks up from the ground, her eyes growing wide. "Wait. D-do you really not know?"

My brow furrows with frustration. "Know what?"

Amy falls silent.

"Amy," I say, urgency rising in my voice, "know what?"

"Ivy."

"Amy. Tell me."

She pauses, sniffling weakly and wiping her nose with her sleeve.

"Ivy, last night. It's Neil..."

My heart sinks into my stomach before she finishes the sentence.

"H-he..."

-

-

-

miscommunication may not be my favorite trope to read but damn is it fun to write LOL