Mister Perfect

Chapter thirty-one - Elijah

When the news came out that Richie died, which was swept under the rug as an accidental, tragic death - Eleanor was in shambles.

She tried to hide it from me, but I knew her far too well. I also read her diary too, because silly miss Eleanor always left it right out in the open where I could find it. I could also tell that she was upset because she would excuse herself from the room many times and would hide away in the bathroom. Poor girl.

Her diary read, 'Richie died. Richie fucking died... I don't even know how else to say it. How I found out was even worse. A fucking article online. Man found dead in apartment during work out. Neck crushed. No one found him until days later. I can't fucking believe it. I know I ended things with him and all and it had been a while since we last spoke, but I still cared for him. At the end of the day, I still spent almost two years seeing him, hanging out with him, getting to know him. We were friends. We were more than friends.

I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest but I also feel guilty because I have Elijah. Why am I crying over Richie when Elijah kneels at my feet, ready to give me anything I need? Grief is weird. I've never known someone that's died before. Do I go to his funeral? Do I tell Elijah about this? I don't fucking know. I can't stop crying and feeling fucking bad. He died alone in his apartment, crushed under fucking weights. I mean, how can I just get over that? I want to be present with Elijah and I want to give him my all, but I can't stop thinking about Richie.' I took pictures of it, so I wouldn't forget.

I even have a locked album in my phone titled 'Work stuff', in case Eleanor were to ever look through my phone. Not that I ever give her reasons to, but... just in case.

I have all her diary entries in that album, pictures of her home that I took when I broke in, pictures of her sleeping, showering, even going to the bathroom. Sometimes I hide my phone in there and hit record and wait until she's done before hurrying inside to retrieve it and watch.

Just having those images and videos of her in such a raw state, when she doesn't know anyone is watching - makes me see a beauty to her that I don't think anyone else is capable of seeing.

I loved knowing that I knew her inside and out, more than anybody else ever has or ever would.

I suppose if this had been any other scenario, I would have been fuming over the fact that I had just read that my own girlfriend couldn't stop thinking of another man, but he died. She cared for him. I understood, in a way.

I undeniably still hated that I knew she was thinking about him, but like she said - grief is weird. I was going to let her feel what she needed to feel and I wasn't going to ask or mention or say anything unless she brought it up first, which she never did.

I almost wished she had so that I could properly console her, tell her that everything was going to be okay, because it was.

Two weeks, four weeks, one month, three months, five months went by and Eleanor never brought it up. She did get better, though. With each passing day, she seemed less and less sad. And, our relationship got stronger, which was great for me.

She even stopped writing about it in her diary, and that's how I knew she moved on. Her diary was like her vessel to everything, her mind, her soul, her visions. Having her diary was like having the golden ticket to enter her brain.

It was our ten month anniversary and I had something big planned for us.

I had bought red balloons and placed them all over the apartment with candles set up and lit on nearly every available surface. A new bottle of champagne sat beside the cookies with two glasses, ready for us.