Words Unsaid || on hold

Chapter 7

"No, there." I pointed to the corner. "A bit left."

Justin's arms flexed, and his face tainted red. "Good?"

"No, too much left. Go right."

He moved the armchair again, letting out a breath. "I'm putting it down."

I tilted my head, biting my lip. "Can you move it back?"

Dropping the chair, Justin straightened up, brushing his hands on his black jeans. "Oops," he smiled at me, "too late."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. "It's okay. I'll just get someone more manly to help me." I shot him a smirk. "Oh, like, you know that pizza guy? I bet he's way stronger."

Justin plopped down onto the chair, running his hand through his hair. "Not gonna work." He crossed his legs, leaning into the back of the chair, "Sorry," he added, knowing he had won.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"I do. I most definitely do." I walked to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle to stop my stomach from churning. "What do you think? I think we're done."

Justin stood up, moving back to survey the room. "Well, aside from that armchair, it looks good." He moved behind me, pulling open the pizza box left on the counter. "Want any?"

I scrunched my nose. "No."

He shrugged, reaching over my head to grab a plate from the cupboard, brushing my arm as he pulled it down. I froze, taking in a breath slowly. He isn't Noah.

Justin pulled a slice from the box onto the plate, and roughly put into the microwave-making it clatter as it hit the bottom. I put my hands over my ears, memories flashing back like movie scenes. "You can't do anything right!" Noah swiped the plate off the table, making it shatter as it hit the ground. He slid off his chair, sloppily trying to avoid the pieces and swearing when one poked his foot.

Justin gently moved my hands away from my head. "He's gone. He's not here, he's gone, I promise," he repeated, whispering to me. He moved his thumb under my eye, wiping at the stray tears that had started to fall. He wrapped his hands around my waist, a soft frown crossing his features quickly. "He's gone."

I pulled away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm always doing this to you."

"It's okay." He looked at me for a moment too long, jumping slightly when the microwave let out a shrill beep.

I backed away awkwardly, tripping over an empty box, and momentarily losing my balance. Justin looked at me, amused, before quickly moving his eyes to his plate when I turned to him.

"Shut up," I said, an edge of laughter in my voice. "It isn't funny."

He swallowed a laugh. "No, it's completely serious, you're right."

"Go away." I whined, pulling myself onto a barstool across the counter.

His phone buzzed next to him, and he muttered something as he read what came up on the screen. He raised a single finger, and picked up the phone, taking long strides to the bedroom. I raised my own fingers, tracing over the birds tattooed behind my ear. You'll fly away, someday, you'll fly away and you'll be free. And it'll be wonderful. You'll feel the breeze on your face and the sun on your skin, and it'll be all you've ever wanted. She ran her fingers through my hair, cradling my hand in hers. You're my little bird, A. You're my perfect little bird.

"Still up for that coffee?" Justin spoke, breaking my thoughts.

"Um, yeah," I paused, putting my hand back in my lap, "Yeah, let's go."