You that I couldn't lose

heart too loud -2

2:37am on a sleepless night. Sitting in my front yard smoking my last cig and finishing my last drink.

I wondered if I should walk the streets. Try and forget about our little fight. If you could even call it that.

Whatever it was, was imprinted in my brain. The way his face looked when I said all those things. I should've apologised. I should've called him. I should've done something.

I got up from my step of desperation and brushed myself off. I told my parents that I was just thinking, and would soon head off to bed after I'd finished a smoke. They were alright with that.

The street was dark, trees swaying in the breeze. Silence filled the air and I tried so hard to forget.

When we first met, he was young and freshly single. He told me it was quite a serious relationship. A couple of years, he said. He looked like he was struggling. She fucked him over. Lied to him. Cheated.

I asked him for a dance, and he politely accepted. My hands on his waist, his around my neck. I learnt so much about him that night.

I showed him my poetry and he showed me his music. We bonded instantly. I had never felt so connected to someone. And to this day, I don't think that's changed.

I finished my cigarette and dropped the butt onto the road, pushing hair out of my eyes as I did so.

He was my first boyfriend. Only boyfriend, I should say. I'd never explored that side before. Never kissed another boys lips, never held another mans hand. To me, there was no point. But there was him.
He was different, in a way.

With him, I never felt like I had to compete. I never felt like I had to be bigger or better than him. I felt at ease. I never had to feel bad that I liked writing poetry more than I liked going to the gym, or that I liked reading more than 'banging' hot chicks. He made me feel wanted. Special.

"Hey!" He yelled from behind me. "Where are you going?!"

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. "Far away from you is where I'm headed."

"Don't be such a cunt," he snapped. "What is going on with you? Is it her? I swear, if it's her-"

I stopped, turned and looked. Rosy cheeks, glassy eyes. My jacket. Ankle freezer pants, fishnet stockings. My fucking nightmare. "Why would it have anything to do with her?" I shouted, throwing my arms in the air. "Maybe it's the fact that you kicked me out. Maybe that's why I'm mad." I was more than mad, raging at this point.

"I kick you out all the time and now you've got a problem?" He stared.

"I've always got a problem, I'm just too good to say anything."

"Too good," he snickered. "Of course you're too good. Too good to say goodbye to me every time I leave to go on tour? Too good to hold my hand? Too good to say goodnight to me? Too good to walk me home when it's dark out?" The tears falling from his eyes were fat, heavy. He'd been holding this in longer than I had. "Well, fuck. You're just too good for me, Brett Fennell. Too fucking good."

"You started this, William. Not me."

He nodded and wiped his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'm ending it."

"What?!" I yelled, pulling at my hair. "You're ending it? This?!" I signal between us. "You're ending what we have-"

"What the fuck do we have?" He waited for me to answer, but I had no words. "We have nothing. From the constant bickering to the fucking, we have nothing." Softly. He said it softly. He wasn't angry, he wasn't sad. He was done. Fed up.

I never thought of myself as an emotional person, but I couldn't lose him. I couldn't. "Lets make something then," I whispered.

"With what?" He replied. "Between the two of us, we have two pairs of socks and a lot of emotional baggage. What can we do with that?"

I smiled, "at least we have socks."

He let go of his pride, his anger, and he laughed. "Fuck you, Fennell."

"You do." His smile grew and the closer he came. Our hands brushing against each other's. I could feel his body heat against my skin. Warm, he was.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. "Come home with me?"

I pondered for a moment. Wondering whether I should go with my beautiful boyfriend, or stay with my parents. Cigarettes or no cigarettes. No food or food. Will or no Will.

Will, always Will.

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I have no idea where I'm going with this so just bare with me. I'll get there eventually. -Bethany.