☆Blaze☽
Chapter 29:
Do you ever just wish that you could unmeet someone? Maybe I was crazy, because I didn’t.
The first day back at school was the hardest. From the side-glance whispers to Beatle trying to me, it was hell, to say the least. Everything was difficult. Paying attention in class was especially foreign. I had become so accustomed to daydreaming while staring out the window about what I would do once that bell rang and I was dismissed. I had to relearn how to learn, but I had missed so many classes lost in my own mind that I didn’t know the foundation of what was being taught. So, my previous routines resurfaced, and I would go home and teach myself the lessons.
Beatle was a whole other problem. Every time I saw him coming down a hallway I would make a point to duck into the nearest classroom, bathroom, or anywhere that would mean I could avoid him. He caught on quickly; after a few weeks he didn’t attempt to get near me anymore. He would still call, and leave the occasional text and voicemail.
It was easy to fall back into the person I used to be, it barely took a month. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been rash though. It had been a though aching in the back of my mind after I walked into the kitchen on day. The radio was always on to assure people we were home even when we weren’t since no one in our little town bothered to get security alarms despite the colourful stickers claiming we had one. It was the radio announcer who stuck himself in my head, saying, “We need to stop acting like we’re in high school.” Acting like we’re in high school. For the first time I had acted like I was in high school and look where it got me? Right back to where I started, but a whole lot more pain. I was going to graduate, still a virgin who’d never finished a cigarette and could get wasted off three beers. Nothing had changed, other than the fact that now I knew what it was like to act like I was in high school, to do stupid shit and blame it on the fact I was just a teen. It was like I had tried a highly addictive drug and had quit, but only now I felt the withdrawal symptoms.
I got accepted to the schools I wanted, the programs I wanted. They had sent me the housing registration packages and I filled them in and sent them back. I got what I wanted. I got everything that I wanted.
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
The first time I had a legitimate conversation with Beatle after we broke up was a few weeks before prom, which I had no intention of going to- not because I was alone. I probably wouldn’t have gone to prom anyways.
Whiskey had texted me, telling me his shoulder was acting up and needed me to carry something for him. I wouldn’t have been so suspicious of it if it didn’t happen all the time. I could tell he was frustrated by it too; a few months of physiotherapy and it still wasn’t half as functional as before. He had tried a billion times to get me to talk to Beatle, and every time I had asked him to stop talking to Mi, and then he would be silent about it for a week or two.
He told me he was still in class; I knew where it was because of how many times I’d had to do this. It was the art room.
I peeked in the room before entering, making sure I wasn’t about to walk into the middle of Ms. Alan’s class, because she was one of those teachers I would walk around the entire school just to avoid passing.
I didn’t see him right away, so I went to the back where the pottery dried to see if he was there.
“Whiskey?” I called out, but no one replied. I sighed in annoyance and got out my phone to text him. I heard the art room close and began walking back towards the centre of the class, shoving my phone into my pocket.
“Hey, Whiskey. Where’s the- oh.” I stopped dead and shoved my hands in my pockets. Beatle was standing there, leaning against the door so I couldn’t leave. I leaned back on my heels and his gaze on me intensified. He looked like he was unsure of what he was doing.
“Hi,” I said as he rubbed the back of his neck, nodding in my direction. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that either Whiskey had lied to me and asked Beatle to meet me here.
“How are you?” It sounded so forced. It was all so forced and I hated it, but it was partly my fault. At the same time, I wouldn’t go back and change anything. It was better this way.
“I’m okay, you?”
He didn’t answer the question. He shifted his weight a bit and took a few cautious steps towards me, like he expected me to run away.
“I saw your name on the honour roll. Congrats.” He faked a smile and faked one in return. It was nearly painful.
“Where are you going to university?” Beatle flinched at the question. Obviously that would still be a sore spot. I felt my heart skip when his green eyes met mine again. Why couldn’t I just get over him? It had been months. Obviously he wasn’t over me either, or we wouldn’t be here.
“I got accepted to UBC for Philosophy. You’re going to U of T?”
“Yeah, Biochemistry,” I replied even though he didn’t ask. I felt like I couldn’t breathe through the tension in the air. I fisted my hands in my pocket as he got closer, only he didn’t stop. He kept walking until he was right in front of me, and his hands reached out to cup my face as I stared wide eyed. And then he kissed me, and at some point my wide eyes closed and I began to melt into it. He was so familiar. Every movement was predicted and welcomed because, in that moment, it was like nothing had changed. Like I was Lake and I had marijuana at home in my underwear drawer that I had to sell to someone and I stayed over at my boyfriend’s nearly every night because I had made my mother hate me. But when my hand eased up his chest it was to push him away, because everything had changed.
He pulled away with a soft whine as he looked down on me, frustration clearly written across his face.
“Why can’t it go back to the way it used to be?” His hand was still on my face as I turned my face to look out the window. I took a deep breath. Why couldn’t we go back to the way we used to be? It should have been easy; Beatle would apologize, I would forgive him, and we’d be love-struck teens again.
“Because I’m in love with you,” I whispered. Beatle took a few steps back and looked and me like I just told him I was pregnant.
“What? Elliot, that makes no sense!”
“It does though, because you don’t love me.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, furrowing his eyebrows as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t know that.”
“Do you?”
Beatle didn’t reply, which was all the answer I needed.
“Exactly.”
“But-”
“And I don’t trust you anymore.”
“Elliot, tell me how to fix this. Please, let me fix this.” His fingers brushed against my cheek and suddenly I had to leave, right now, before I caved. There was no point in getting back together anyways. We would have a nice summer before going off to universities across the country. It was pointless, I wasn’t worth the effort.
“Just leave it alone. I’m- I’m not worth it,” I blurted out as I pushed past him and out of the art room, leaving him standing there, confused.
My face was red, every hair on my body stood on end, and I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I took a deep breath as I heard the door slam behind me, and when I opened my eyes Whiskey was there, leaning against the wall, smiling while one-strapping his backpack.
“I saw you guys necking. You all good now?” I gawked at him for a second before walking the opposite direction to make sure he didn’t see the first tear fall.
A few hours later my phone started to ring, and I picked it up tentatively as I noticed it was Whiskey who was calling me.
“Hello?” I breathed out, and there was moment of silence before he exploded. I’d never heard him get this mad before.
“I talked to Beatle. You’re an idiot Elliot, you’re a fucking idiot! It’s been months and he’s still trying to get you to even talk to him, but you won’t. Don’t you realize he could have moved on by now? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!”
“I wish he would. What if I don’t want to get back with him, Whiskey? Things end all the time; it’s just you who can’t accept that.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. That’s even better than the ‘I don’t deserve it’ crap. We’ve talked about this, you said-” I said that all I wanted was to know he still cared. That I still wanted him and that I would stop pushing away if I knew that. It was what I had convinced myself, until it actually came time to do that.
“I know what I said. I was wrong.”
“God, I know you won’t, but I hope you feel bad.” The line went dead. He had hung up on me.
Whiskey was wrong though, I did feel bad. It was this gnawing feeling that never truly left. If I had been able to grow up and learn that it wasn’t all about me- but why couldn’t it be? Why couldn’t it be all about me? Sure, I hurt Beatle, and Whiskey was temporarily pissed, but I didn’t have to wake up every morning and look at them in the mirror. I had to live with myself every day, so wasn’t it okay if I was the most important person in my life?
That realization didn’t help; if it did anything it made me face my decisions head-on. I liked to believe that no matter what, we would end up at the same final destination. No, not death. I mean to say that, if I’m meant to get married and buy a house in Florida, not matter what decisions I make along the way I will end up there anyways. That all my choices don’t actually matter. That was just naivety though.
It was because of my decisions that I tried to skip my graduation because I didn’t want to face anyone. I knew I would still get my diploma, so what did it matter if a room full of people didn’t see me? It was because of my decisions that I spent summer in my house to avoid accidentally bumping into anyone. It was because of my decisions I had to convince myself I was happy instead of actually being happy.
a/n The writing was kind of different, but I did that purposely. It changed back next chapter. Basically you guys get to skip over all the boring parts of Elliot's life.
I think this is the second last chapter. I'm not sure about an epilogue yet.