apartment 23 // mitchel cave

38

angeline's p.o.v.

i don't think there's any worse feeling than pulling into your driveway and seeing the car that the man you love came home in. the man you promised not to let down. i realized i had fucked up; the alcohol was laced in my breath and i could barely walk in a straight line. despite how much i wanted to turn around and walk back down the street to the bar where my friends had continuously bought round after round of shots, i knew i had to go inside and own up to this. maybe he would be asleep already; it was quite late and tour was tiring. he deserved a good rest.

to be completely honest, i didn't even realize he was coming back to los angeles today. i could have sworn it was next week. if i had known, i would have consciously made the effort not to get completely shit faced. although maybe this would be my way to get back at him. he had told me he was going to come to my exhibit but the morning-of he shot me a quick text saying that there was an "emergency" and he couldn't make it. "sorry" he said. i wanted to believe him. i really did. i didn't know what i did that would have made him not want to come.

i slowly creaked open the front door and stepped in. the lights were off and the loft was completely silent. i breathed a sigh of relief; i was in the clear. walking over to the fridge, i was extremely cautious not to make my footsteps sound throughout the loft. it was hard to do that, though, when your feet feel like bricks and your heels were way too high. i grabbed a glass and filled it up with water, drinking it quickly in hopes that it would help me sober up. someone cleared their throat from behind me, scaring the hell out of me.

"fuck." i sighed, turning around and realizing that it was mitchel. his hair was a tangled mess; his braids were no where to be seen. he wore a baggy t shirt and his black jeans. it looked like he hadn't slept in weeks; the bags under his eyes prominently stood out on his face and his cheeks seemed sunken in. there was no sign of happiness on his face. he looked broken.

"hey mitchel... are you okay?" i asked, steadying myself against the counter. i really wanted to just walk over to him and kiss him finally. but then he would taste the liquor on my lips.

"i think the real question is, are you okay?" he asked coldly.

"what?" i replied. i didn't understand why he was so cold. i didn't think it was that obvious that i was drunk. i only had a few shots anyways and i could highly doubt he could smell it radiating off of me from where he was standing.

"what was it like?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"what was what like? mitchel... i don't know what you're on about." i said frustrated. he was being too vague. it was beginning to annoy me.

"what was it like throwing away the promise you made to me? did you really think i wouldn't find out about all the shit you've been doing behind my back? the alcohol, the drugs, the heroin?" he stepped closer to me.

shit.

"i don't know what you're talking about." i said, averting my eyes towards the hardwood floor. i tried to act innocent; i was a really bad actor.

"yes you do angeline. i found your pills and the alcohol in our room. i fucking watched that guy stick the needle in your arm. don't even deny it angeline." he replied harshly. fuck, he was at that club that night? it suddenly felt like the world was crashing around on me. everything that i had done these last few months was coming back to haunt me and it was suffocating.

before when he said my name, it was intoxicating. i could have listened to him say my name all day. it was always laced with love and passion, lust and desire. but now the only thing laced in his words were bitter anger and sadness. i didn't want to hear him speak my name like this. this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"i'm sorry mitchel..." i said quietly.

"no you aren't. let me guess, you probably went back to that guy's hotel room and fucked him, right? i bet it was oh so great, huh? was it better than what i could give you? please, do tell. did he give you everything i couldn't?" he pressured.

"what the fuck mitchel, i didn't cheat on you at all! stop fucking jumping to conclusions, i'm not a fucking cheater. and don't act like such a saint, i'm sure you had plenty of girls to fuck on tour and plenty of drugs to do. you're not that innocent; you didn't even show up to my exhibition like you promised." i snapped back. i prayed that the others weren't home to hear this. i didn't want to put them through this shit.

"i didn't do a single thing against you on that tour. and you know why? because i loved you. i didn't show up because i watched you with another guy in washington. i stood in the middle of that floor, staring as he injected that substance into your veins. do you even realize how hard that was for me? i stuck to my promise and you couldn't even stick to yours. how could you?" he said, the bitterness evident in his tone.

"listen mitchel, it was all a big mistake. i'm really sorry, okay? please, can we just go to bed? we can talk about this in the morning." i sighed, rubbing my face.

"no. you're not sleeping here." he stated coldly, backing away from me.

"where the hell am i supposed to go?" i asked, walking towards him.

"go find your drug dealer or something. i'm sure he would be willing to let you stay. you seem like a pretty valued customer."

"fuck you mitchel." i replied harshly. i really didn't mean to say it but i couldn't contain it.

"you did. and now look where it left us. you fucked up angeline and i can't deal with someone who values a quick high over the man who genuinely loves them and cares for them. i gave you so much. i let you in and you did this shit to me. i'm done angeline. it's over." he said.

"please mitchel. please let me stay. i'll get better, i'll try to fix this." i begged. i could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. i definitely was not planning on this night turning out like this. i didn't even feel the alcohol in my system anymore.

"no angeline. please. just leave." and with that, he turned away from me and headed back upstairs and into our room. his room. there was no use in trying anymore.

i left the loft that night without any idea of where i was going, just letting my mind take me wherever it wanted. it didn't matter where i was going anyways. i really fucked up.

los angeles seemed different that night. a colder and lonelier city, left for me and the one visible star in the sky to share.