30 Things I Wish I Told You

7 - I Needed for You to Come

I didn't go back to New York for quite a while. The name of the city alone brought back a strange taste in my mouth, made my throat tighten.

Max recovered well. You could still see some of the scars on his face, but I didn't think that they made it look any worse, just more interesting. But the doctor said that they would practically disappear in a few months.

I still blamed myself a bit, thinking that maybe it wouldn't have happened had I been in Philadelphia - maybe he would have been at my house, maybe we would've been somewhere else together. But in the end, I couldn't change what happened and I was just glad that it didn't end up worse than it did.

Weeks passed. I can't say that I forgot about you, but the idea of you kept fading away. And I allowed it to slip in front of my eyes, letting it linger a bit before it started flowing away. I knew that it was for the best.

It was a Thursday evening. I was on my terrace, moving around the plants under a bright, pink sunset. The sound of the doorbell didn't surprise me, even though Max had the keys he barely used them and I didn't think twice before unlocking the door. I pulled it open without looking who was in front of me and started walking right back outside.

"Max, look at my Azaleas, I think there's something wrong with them," I crouched down, looking at the pale, whitish spots on the leaves.

"You should really be more careful," I heard the voice coming from the doorway and froze.

After turning around, I saw you take a step inside and close the door behind you. I had to be hallucinating, but I was never able to imagine people so vividly.

"I don't think that it's safe letting just anyone enter?"

"Wh- what are you doing here?" I stood up, trying to get rid of the dirt on my hands.

"I wanted to ask you if I could stay here tonight," you were dead serious, yet I felt like it was all a big joke.

"No," I cut you off, "No, no, no, no, no."

I couldn't see you again. I couldn't fall back into that neverending hole I thought I finally climbed out of.
And not only that, Max was going to arrive at any moment, and I couldn't have you there with him.

But even with all of that shooting through my mind, I still couldn't fathom the fact that you were actually in front of me. The simple gray shirt you wore looked better on you than it could on anyone else... a tattoo peeking from underneath it, all the way up to your neck??

"Did you get a tattoo?" I took a step towards you, almost lifting my hand up to touch it, but I stopped myself before I did.

"Huh?" your face changed completely, the surprise on it obvious, "Oh yeah," your hand flew to your neck, "I did but," you frowned, "It doesn't matter right now. Can I please stay? I wouldn't be asking you if it wasn't an emergency."

I knew you were being honest. Why would you pick me out of the whole Philly population? You had to be desperate.

But I still had to bite my lower lip in order to keep my mouth from forming one of the question marks that were dancing around my head. The longer I stayed there, the more exposed I felt in my oversized white shorts, the sun hitting my legs, picking on every hair I missed while shaving. Or at least that's how I felt. I walked back into the house and closed the door.

"Bryson..."

You stayed silent, letting me fight with my insides, waiting for a response. I could tell that you didn't want to go into detail of why you couldn't go back to New York that night. Or stay at another place.