Loud Love

|| four ||

Theo:

"Oh Theo," she sighs, sitting across from me at the table.
"Hey Ruth," I smile nervously.

She actually came. She actually decided to meet me. I spent the whole afternoon worrying and glancing at the clock; I thought she wouldn't show up.
The chances that she would were so slim, I did all but leave my hopes.

"How are you?" I ask politely, sucking on the inside of my bottom lip.
"Oh Lord," she laughs. "Let's skip the casuals, Theo. What is it that you brought me here for?"

Blunt.

"I want to apologize—"
"Oh great! I took an hour bus ride here so you could apologize to me? So you could try to gain my forgiveness? I have feelings you know, Theodore?"
"That's not all I invited you here for," I speak trough gritted teeth. My temper rises quickly, and I'm trying very hard to lower it.

This women is driving me insane already. I do understand how much of a complete dick I was, but I thought gaining her forgiveness would be a little easier . . . I thought I could take the easy way out. I thought things would go my way.

"What was I invited here for then; of course other than you wanting to mend your ego?" I look into her eyes, just noticing how human she seems.

At the bar, at my house, in bed, she was never like this. She never showed an inch of vulnerability.

But here she is now, tears rimming her soft eyelashes, and her mouth tugged into a frown.

"Ruth," I start. "I want to apologize. The way I treated you . . . It was completely horrible. I know that what I said was not okay, I know that I should've never said that—"
"Oh congratulations, you know,"
"Would you just listen!"

She nods vaguely, and stirs her finger in her palm.
"I put the blame of the ending of my last relationship on you," I confess. "That was so wrong of me to do, and I'm sorry for that. It was my fault, I didn't tell you I was in a relationship. I don't know what else to say . . . Except maybe . . . Want to give us a chance?"

Shailene:

"You don't get to fucking miss me,"

I curl around my brown soft blanket, and close my eyes momentarily.
These past days after the party, the words Theo and I shared have slammed into my brain in random moments, making me feel sick to my stomach.

I can't wrap myself around the fact that he still has this much control over me.
He's this echo that's always in the back of my head, egging me to him. Always whispering his words into me.

"I miss you Shai,"

A tear gently slips from my eye, and I come to terms with what I'm doing. I'm allowing my feelings to control me, I'm letting my brain show me how I really feel.

I'm not prepared to have my emotions out there to view, the pink lines on my wrist and thighs prove that.

"Why?" I scream, shoving at his chest. "Was I not good enough for you? Was I a waste of time for you? Huh?"
"No Shailene, please—"
"You fucked another women," I cry, and my knees give out. The shock becoming too, very much.
It's not a long fall, but the impact hits me hard. Electric shocks of pain shoot through my body, and I cry out.

I cry out for my pain. For him. For my shattering heart. I cry out for our love.

"Why would you do this to me?" My voice is raspy, and yearning.
"A love as loud as ours shouldn't have broken, Theo James."

By now, my tears aren't beautiful, and princess-like.

If I was in a Disney movie, I'd be the peasant girl, who has fallen in love with a Prince. I would've been left out on the streets, at the outskirts of the palace. The rain would pour down around me, as I scurry under a crumbling excuse for protection. I'd be heartbroken and alone.

Because this feeling in the pit of my stomach isn't because I'm a princess.
It isn't because I'm beautiful.

It's because no matter what, together or apart, Theodore will always be the charming Prince, and I will always be the peasant girl who loved him.

He will always be the man that fucked Ruth Kearney.

And I will always be the girl who misses him.

Always.

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I laugh quietly to myself, re-watching the vine posted on Instagram.
A teenaged boy is walking around his school in different clips, wearing white vans. At the end one of his friends yells, "Damnnnn Daniel! Back at it again with the white vans!"

These little hysterical's crack me up to be honest. They're a little stupid, but have brightened me up a bit.

The day has dragged on, mostly filled with me sleeping and laying in bed.
I feel completely drained, and relaxing has been routine for the past days.

Every night around 9:30pm, I make myself a cup of tea, and heat up some non-processed family farm chicken.
Ending the night in a nice healthy way, with a bit of a full belly, seems nice to me.

Generally I curl up under my covers, and reply to e-mails, chat with Zöe, or simply scroll through social media.

I continue to scroll down through some different posts, laughing at a few, and screenshotting some others, just for giggles later.

But that's when I nearly miss it . . . And I wish I had.

@RuthKearneyxz. That username blinks in my eyes, and seems to be laughing at me, calling me out.

I followed her in interest purely. No negative feelings have been sent her way, and I don't have any desire to call her out on social media.

Yet the sick curling of my stomach makes me think my views towards that may change.

The photo she's posted makes me want to throw-up every meal I've eaten today, to throw my phone across the room.

A hand oh-so familiar, sipping a cup of coffee. And a caption that breaks my heart in half:
'Maybe I won't be so single anymore?
Xoxo, ❤️'

He said he missed me.
He said he fucking missed me.

But he missed Ruth more, clearly.

'Let's hope for everyone's sake you remain single,' I press the button that'll post my comment, and wait for a reply.

*Warrior
Demi Lovato