Enduring

12

It's quiet. So terribly quiet. Sunlight peeks almost hesitantly through the blinds I haven't bothered closing, lands on the small stack of dishes next to my bed. My ceiling fan buzzes lazy circles above my head, my pillow flattened beneath me. The sheets are likely starting to smell by now.

I hadn't realized how much time I spent with Cal until he was gone.

The air is stale around me, but I can't bring myself to get up and open a window. My phone shows twelve unread messages, mainly from Kevin as I've not gone to work this week. One from my mom, just checking up, I think. None from Cal.

My emergency granola bar stash is getting dangerously low. I'm not really sure if getting up for more food would be worth it at this point. It would be easier to just waste away.

Not that you deserve better, you ass. He walked out and you let him. Sighing, I sit up out of the covers. Cal's blue sweatshirt sits on the end of my bed, and I wonder if it would be weird to put it on. Pathetic.

If you're feeling that lonely, stalk him on social media. Get it over with, you know you will eventually. Or, maybe don't. Do you even want him back?

I pause in the middle of finding Cal on Instagram, a panicked wave burning through my chest.

I must, right? He's been nothing but good to me, and I'm really the reason everything fell apart... Maybe it's best if we just go our separate ways, though. He can't handle my illness, and I can't handle a relationship. I fall back onto the bed, phone in hand. My hair is oily enough to have started a small crop of pimples near my forehead. I smell like death.

Get up. Get up and take care of yourself. Pathetic. I can't believe you got this attached. Perhaps it's for the best not to talk to him anymore, I think, as I dial his phone number.

My thumb has smashed the call button before I can even think about it, and the phone is already ringing. Can't you just do something right? Just once? God...

"Hello?" I'm too shocked that he's picked up to respond right away, suddenly sweaty hands almost dropping the phone. "Seymour? This is you, right? Look, I... I'm sorry for just leaving like that. It was childish and didn't fix anything, really. I just... I don't know how to talk to you. I don't know how to fix this."

I swallow, throat raw from drinking and crying for days, a tad shaky. "I'm sorry for being so high maintenance and- and annoying. I sh-shouldn't have put my issues on y-your shoulders. I'm sorry." No. No. Apologize for letting him walk away. But my lips have already glued themselves shut with the cementing tension that precedes his response.

The line is dead quiet, and I worry, briefly, that Cal's hung up. Then, "I have to go."

A bundle of tears builds in my chest; I don't even try to stop it. "Please, wait... Please." A tear glimmers on its fall to the comforter. "I... I love you. I want this to work." A pain sears the spaces between my ribs, and I wrap one arm around my chest to hold it in. "I don't want to break up. Please." My throat is coated in regrets and salt water, and my voice barely crawls out of my mouth before being swallowed in tears.

Cal sighs, and I hear rustling like he's shifted in his seat. "We both need to step back, okay, Sey? I want you to be happy, but what we had was just destructive." He is gentle, but firm; I can tell that the last thing he wants is for me to cry more

Past tense already. That stings. "So, we, um. That's it, then?" The wobble in my voice betrays me, and I curse it for being so obvious. "Please, I'm sorry. I can do better. I can try not to be so anxious and-"

"I don't need you to do that," he sighs. "I don't need you not to be yourself. You still don't get it. That's okay." I can imagine him scrubbing at his face while saying this. "Look, I'm busy, so..."

Useless. So dumb. And now it's over, and there's nothing you can do. "Oh. Um. Okay. Bye?"

His next words sound almost like an apology, though I know they aren't "Yeah. Bye."

The phone call has ended by the time I pull the phone away from my ear, and I keep myself from throwing the thing across the room. It won't help anything. It won't. Just go back to bed. Today is not worth it.

Sure that my face is red and puffy, somewhat gross and wet, I collapse back onto my flat pillow, pull the blankets up to my chin. Today is not worth it. I curl into a ball under the sheets and shut my eyes tight. I won't sleep, but I can pretend. It'll let me lay here a bit longer.

A/N:
A shortie, because Seymour doesn't really have much to say on this one.

QOTC: Do you think Caymour should get back together? Why or why not?

I love you all ❤️
AJ