Looking around your apartment, you realise how many memories Max left behind him. You look at the photo of both of you had taken in France last year on the TV stand. Your eyes are searching for another thing that he had left behind. You smile when you're staring at the tiny model of the Eiffel Tower. It was such a cliché, but after you begged Max, he actually bought it for you. You were so happy back there. Next to it is standing a snowball from London, then a tiny bottle filled with sand from the Canary Islands. And then another photo. Wide smiles were playing on your faces. It was taken in the Maldives during a day on a beach. You hopped on Max's back, and he almost didn't catch you. Sparkles of happiness were dancing in your eyes. Oh, you want to turn back time and go through this day one more time. He really left you here with a box of memories. That's all that you have left of him.
You're still wearing the matching bracelet you two got. It was a sunny day in Rome, and you were dating for four months, and it just felt right to do some cliché thing that couples do, so you bought matching bracelets. You thought that Max had already thrown it away, but recently you saw a picture where he was wearing it.
His things are gone. They have been gone for months, but you're still here, waiting for him to change his mind. Why can't he just call you and tell you that he's sorry? You would take him back without any hesitation. You just wish he would call you and say that he needs you. Say he was stupid and foolish for leaving.
You know that you're overthinking it. You're fully aware that the fact that you're here sitting, thinking about Max calling you is silly and pointless because he's probably with his friends overdrinking. Well, he's the world champion now, so he has every right to do it.
You were watching that last lap in Abu Dhabi, begging God for the whole race. You wanted to see him win. You know, you shouldn't care. He is your past and nothing more, but you just couldn't help it. Somewhere deep down, you were still rooting for him. You wore his team gear, biting your nails during that few last laps. You knew you shouldn't care at all, but you did. You almost tried to call him, but you hated the idea of him half-drunk happy. You wanted to see him happy, but not without you.
Ever since he left, you've been struggling. You're still getting used to that feeling of your queen-sized bed. You're still getting used to the space on the right side. You tried to fix it with new blankets, but it didn't help. There is still something missing, and that something is Max.
Coffee makes you anxious, but you drink it because it tastes like him. Converse hurts your feet, but you still wear them because you think of him. When you put them on, you think of late-night walks and sweet goodnight kisses. Vodka makes you sick, so you take shots, hoping they sting more than him. His sweater makes you sad, but you still wear it because it smells like him.
It only took him one week to forget two years together. Perhaps you loved him way too much. Perhaps, you loved way too much all the nights when he cooked you dinner. You were dancing in the kitchen to the songs you loved. Maybe you loved too much all the nights he kissed you slowly.
"I need you. I'm sorry." You get his call. It's nice to hear his voice again. You just tell him to tell you everything. You don't need sleep, so he doesn't have to hurry along. You honestly think that you can fix it.
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