Not What I Thought We Were

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I do not own these characters, I just write them as a way to love and care for them.


The dull buzz of my phone dialing out vibrated the outside of my ear. Five rings in and I knew what I'd hear next. It was the first time I ever heard his voice that I was disappointed.

My head fell back in defeat as I leaned against the tall cement cornerstone of the building just up the stairs from the subway entrance. I'd kept it together (ish) during the whole subway ride but now, I just didn't have the strength left.

"Hi, you've reached Steve. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks."

Hot tears spilled over my bottom eyelids with my eyes still closed tight. I took a small breath, trying not to give away the fact that I was crying.


"Hey, it's me. I uh... I just hoped I could catch you. It's not an emergency or anything. Just one of those days. And I think you're away today anyway now that I think of it. I guess I will... talk to you... later. Love you."

Towards the end of my rambling message, I could hear my voice sounding congested and I hoped it wouldn't be an alert for Steve that I was upset. Even though I actually called him to talk and probably vent, now that I was just leaving a message, I couldn't seem to leave a sad or angry message.

I just don't know if we're at that point yet. It's been 8 months but...

I'm sure it's just me though. I'm sure if Steve saw me upset, it wouldn't phase him. That sounded bad but I didn't mean it like he wouldn't care. I mean I think he wouldn't look down on me or think I'm dramatic because he knows how I really am every day - a person who avoids drama and tries to stay positive. But something in me can't pull the trigger to show him that side of me. At least not yet.

Dressed in a long, lightweight fall dress jacket, I scooped myself and my crushed ego off the wall and cried myself the three more blocks to my walk up apartment. Really not my finest commute home from work but thankfully, I'd been allowed to leave early because of what happened.

Oh, God, I... I have no idea how I'll ever get past this.

After trudging up the four flights to my place, I stared blankly at my apartment. I had no idea what to do with myself. My nerves were worked up and my whole body was feeling the effects. I told myself I should take a bath or maybe paint... just do something that would take the edge off. But I couldn't seem to even walk into my apartment. After a minute, I finally let go of my purse and let it drop to the floor. A fresh wave of salty tears burst out of me again. It's always amazing that you can cry so much that your eyes dry out - even though they are getting a lot of moisture.

I finally managed to pry my jacket off and hang it up. I threw my mail down on the kitchen counter and slowly walked to my bedroom before taking off all my jewelry and changing into pajama pants. It helped. A little anyway. I sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, running my hand over my face, trying to give myself a pep talk to stay calm so I wouldn't have another emotional outburst. My phone had three messages on it. They were all something to the effect of, "Are you okay? Where'd you go?" They were all from people at work. My boss knew where I was because he told me I could leave... but I guess Tony wouldn't think to tell anyone else I left. Or maybe he was trying to protect my privacy. I didn't have the heart to answer any of the texts but I was able to stay calm by casually scrolling through Instagram for a little while. Nothing terribly interesting on there, at least not yet.

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