Memory

It's My Fault Again

I can't breathe--

It's so hot and stuffy...

And I'm suffocating.

I throw the blankets off, gasping for air.

A fine sheen of sweat forms on my forehead, but I don't know why.

I was fine a minute ago.

I'm fine now.

Even though I was suffocating a minute ago.

And I have no idea what just happened.

I need to get out of here.

I'll come back later. I think I should leave Rowan alone for now--he's already mad enough at me as it is.

I see two folded-up stacks of clothes on the dresser in this room. One has a note at the top.

We weren't sure of your sizes so we guessed.

Left stack--> Rowan

Right Stack--> Mavi

I may end up taking a shower after him before I leave.

So I take a black t-shirt from the right pile that is plain with a single white flame on it--Ironic. I also pick up the sweatpants that are black-and-white.

They'll both be about two sizes big on me, but I'm used to too-big clothes.

Rowan steps out of the bathroom as I'm about to leave. I meet his gaze, and just as I'm about to push past him to head into the bathroom, he grabs my hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

I nod. It's okay. I understand. I'm stupid.

He seems to understand the answer in my gaze. Or at least some of it.

(+)

I walk out of the shower, with my hair plastered to my face. I don't really care.

Rowan is sitting on the side of the bed, and I glance at the clock. It's almost noon.

I feel I should help Thor fight the Dark Elves, since I'm the reason his hammer isn't here anymore.

I just want time to stop. Maybe for it all to end.

I guess I'm supposed to be happy that Rowan's here, and I am. I really am.

But I messed something up. Really bad.

I fucked up so many things.

And I don't know how to fix any of them.

And, really, it would have all just been fixed if I hadn't gone to the SHIELD facility last month.

Dear god, all of this began only one month ago.

It just began.

So why does it feel like a lifetime ago?

I sit on the side of the bed opposite Rowan, my back leaning against the headboard.

I grab a pillow as the both of us sit in silence, burying my face in it.

I don't know what I'm trying to do.

Maybe I'm seeking comfort.

Maybe I'm trying to smother myself.

Do I know what I'm doing?

I guess I never did.

Rowan crawls next to me, but makes no move to touch me in any way. So close I can hear his breath yet just far enough that I can't feel him there.

Like he's really not there.

But then I feel warm, calloused fingers resting on my hand. "I'm sorry," Rowan says again.

"It's okay--"

"No. No, it's not. And I shouldn't have expected you to know well enough to not give the ring away if you didn't know what it was."

I stay silent for a minute. "It's not your fault," I say. Is it mine? "Anyone would have expected me to keep it. I gave it away that easily. It's my fault."

"Don't you dare think that any of what's happened is your fault," Rowan looks me in the eyes and grabs my shoulders gently. "Not for one damned second."

I can't say I agree with him on that matter, because if he really knew what I'd been planning before, he'd agree with me.

So I just nod, and let him pull me into a hug. "I'm sorry," he says again.

"I said it was okay. Now get over it," I look up at him and swat at his face softly.

His face softens into a smile.

And while I say it's okay...

Why does it feel like it's not?

Why does everything feel so... empty? Dull? Miserable? Hollow?

And dead?