It always feels like the harder you try to forget, the more you seem to remember.
Warnings: talks about sexual situations, mentions of hookups, talk of general sadness/heartbreak/breakups, mentions of mean girls/high school bullies, poor-self image/insecurity, small town drama, touch of angst, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!
The air was chilly, nipping at your exposed skin to remind you of the seasons change, but it was not yet cold enough to be truly bothersome. The night sky was polluted with city lights and the sidewalks were littered with faces of vague familiarity, forcing you to recall a lifetime that you had lived long ago. The town was covered in a haze of melancholic grey, haunting you with years of memories that you had been trying so hard to forget. Your hometown was a place that you had been constantly trying to run away from, something that you had been dreaming of leaving behind for more, yet every holiday season you found yourself back in the same place, wondering if it would ever possible to cleanse yourself of the curses of a small town.
Your bedroom of your childhood home was the same, plastered with posters and photographs of people you hadn't spoken to in years. You slept under the same comforter that your high-school self had picked out from a Walmart shelf, sixteen and in love with the tasteless pattern mostly because it was new and your very own, rather than one of your sisters well worn hand-me downs. Your pillows held memories of ex-boyfriends and friends that had all broken your heart, even after endless sleepovers and nights spent pouring your souls into each other. Your graduation cap and honours cords decorated your computer desk, and your abhorrent wardrobe was still hung in your closet alongside the embarrassing prom and homecoming dresses. Your parents sat in the same spots in the living room, effectively ignoring each other while trying to force themselves to fall back in love for the greater good of the family. They hadn't touched a single thing in your room since you moved out.
It was familiar, comfortable, but it was a world you no longer wished to live in. Sure, the memories would be something fond to look back on when you were eighty and reminiscing about your youth while staring death in the face, but as a 23 year old who was eager to step into the real world, it was nothing short of an evocative ode to the person you forever wished you could destroy. You didn't hate yourself in high school like many others did, at least not seriously; of course, there was a struggle with self image and insecurities, but what teenage girl did not face such problems? You were far from perfect, and you were definitely not a part of the popular clique (Which was just another small town narrative that drove you crazy), but you were alright with what you had made yourself to be all those years ago. You were a selfless soul who loved learning, a great friend who would sacrifice your own happiness if it were for another in need, and one who did fantastically in everything she set her mind to.
It was not your person that made you so eager for change, but rather the lack thereof. You were perfectly mediocre, someone who always flew just under the radar and never stood out. You wanted to be memorable, a person in which others would think of in decades to come, and you knew that the only way to do that was to leave everything behind. Mediocrity would forever become you in a town where it was cherished, and deep down, you knew that you were destined for something greater. Unfortunately, until your university degree was in your hand, you were forced to return home for the holidays. You were not yet able to move across the state and disappear from everyone's memory, even if it was something you desperately craved.
As you walked, you questioned yourself on your own decisions. Why, especially after reiterating your opinion on your hometown in your mind, did you feel the need to agree to a night of drinking with a group of girls you hadn't seen in years? At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea, a chance to catch up with people who reminded you of childhood innocence, but as you neared the bar, you felt dread settle in your stomach. These people had no idea who you were, and barely did even when they spent every day with you in grade school. Your lives were worlds apart; some were settled down with kids, some were still living with their parents while trying to relive senior year every weekend despite it being almost half a decade ago. Some had graduated college and started their full time jobs, but none of them were the type of people you wanted to associate with anymore.
Yet, you couldn't seem to say no. Your generosity was your greatest strength, but somehow also your biggest weakness.
You knew that the night would not be horrible. Mind-numbing, perhaps, but survivable. You would sit and listen to their accomplishments, learn the names of their kids who you would never meet, and you might even share your own stories of life after high school. You would recall old memories, maybe even learn some new ones, and you would get to hear all about the people they loathed in your younger years. Then, you would all go your separate ways and maybe see each other at the ten-year high school reunion. It was predictable, but so were all of the small town dwellers who never took the leap of faith in changing. You would go home and sleep it off, and they would gossip about you over coffee at the shitty cafe down the street the next morning. It was inevitable, unpleasant, yet still seemed more appealing than trying to do schoolwork while listening to your parents passive-aggressive talk about things that were less than important in the background.
You checked your makeup in the camera of your phone, swiping away any specs of mascara and smudged lipstick before entering the bar. You weren't willing to give them any fuel to talk behind your back once you went home. You had even put on a nice skirt and a shirt that was a little out of your comfort zone for the occasion. You knew you didn't have to prove anything to anyone, but growing up alongside a sea of cheerleaders and athletes had severely impacted your self confidence. You were average in every aspect; your younger self was a little bigger than most in terms of weight. You had glasses and poor makeup skills, always trying to cover your acne yet only ever making it more obvious. You never dressed up, and most often dressed down, and you were so involved in academics that you never bothered much with a social life beyond your small group. You hated school dances, and your family never had the extra money to spend on any extracurricular activities. With three children, you couldn't blame them; you knew that you and your sisters had a good life, even if you had to miss out on some things here and there.
You were not bullied, but your peers were certainly not overly friendly nor concerned with your existence. Since then, you weren't shy to admit that your appearance had drastically improved. Not in any grand sense, but your metabolism finally caught up to speed, your skin cleared, you learned some tricks with makeup brush and had discovered contact lenses. Maybe your agreement to join them had less to do with your fear of saying no, and more to do with your desire to prove your worth. If they were going to talk, you hoped that you could at least give them something good to say.
You opened the door, drawing in a long breath to settle your thoughts as you were slapped in the face with the warmth of the air inside. You could hear music drifting through the sound system, likely a song from the same playlist they were using the last time you had visited over a year prior. Originality was not something that was greatly cherished, and the regulars would probably still hoot and holler for songs they had heard ten times that night alone. The bar was lit with dim lamps shining from underneath the liquor wall and the neon projections from the dance floor. It was so predictable, yet you still found an unexplainable charm in it. It was one of the few bars that remained standing amidst a nasty fight for business, and it had been open since your parents enjoyed a night on the town (which was a very long time ago). Still, the staff was friendly and every now and again there was a diamond in the rough that sang when they broke out the karaoke machine. It wasn't miserable, but it was nothing like the bars you were used to in your university town.
You slipped your coat from your shoulders, already finding it too warm inside, and fought your way through the crowd to the bar. You pulled a twenty from your wallet, anxiously awaiting your turn to order. Eventually, after a few moments of watching them sling pitchers of draft beer across the countertop, a bartender made her way towards you. "What can I get you, honey?" She asked, a blinding smile on her face. You wanted to believe it was genuine, but you knew that it was likely an act to coerce a tip from you. Either way, the kindness was appreciated, especially when you were feeling so jittery.
"Just a double vodka soda for now, please." You said, drumming your fingertips against the countertop. She gave a curt nod, rushing away to fix the drink. Whether her speed was because she wanted to get rid of you or because she wanted to provide five-star customer service was neither here nor there. Within a minute, she sat a frosty glass of liquid courage before you and was already offering to start a tab. With hesitancy, you slipped the bill back in your pocket and agreed to pay later, handing her your credit card instead. You were aiming for a drink and dash, but you figured you shouldn't walk into an interaction with such negativity. For all you knew, the night could be the best time you had during your visit home.
'That would be pathetic.' You shut the thought down as soon as it surfaced.
With the glass in your hand, you turned towards the crowd. Your eyes scanned the bodies, aiming to locate your company for the night, but knowing that you would be just as content if they decided not to show. After a moment, you heard your name over the mess of drunken chatter and shitty music. Your head turned in the direction of the sound, locating a group of girls in a corner booth. You forced yourself to smile, sipping on your straw as you stepped towards them. A whirlwind of emotion struck you once you were within earshot of their conversation, only questioning yourself more as the seconds continued to pass by. Before you could convince yourself to turn and run, they slid over and invited you in.
"Well hello, y/n." A bubbly blonde greeted. Her name was Beth, and in middle school, she had started dating a boy named Jack. You could recall the toxic, jealous display the two often engaged in and the cheating scandals that seemed to surface every other week. When you all graduated, he joined the military right after he popped the big question. They were married two months later and had their first kid seven months after the graduation ceremony. Now, she was a stay at home mom with three kids and a blog about her family life, which to you just seemed like a huge cry for help.
"Hi," you smiled, settling into the booth.
"We were so happy to hear that you could make it." Another girl spoke, Allyson (the 'y' was very much important to her identity as she liked to remind everyone, although you did remember her spelling it with an 'I' until high school), with fake ginger hair and so much plastic surgery that she was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to your early days. She came from a rich family, one who never taught her much about hard work or discipline. She considered herself a professional social media influencer, which she claimed paid for the mansion she now lived in. You all knew her parents gifted it to her, yet nobody seemed keen on calling her on her bullshit. But, she was gorgeous, and she did take some damn good pictures from what you had seen on her Instagram. You never minded her much in school.
"Yeah, I was really happy to get the invitation." You forced through your teeth, still wondering why you came at all.
"How's life at UMichigan?" The last woman spoke, voice quiet and genuinely curious. You looked to your side, eyes softening at the sight. It was your best friend from elementary school, someone in which you shared lots of dreams about being an astronaut over juice boxes and Barbie dream houses. You didn't see much of her once middle school came around; she loved soccer, and you loved the library. The world played its part in your separation, yet there never seemed to be any ill feelings about the shattered friendship. Her name was Sarah, and she was admittedly still the prettiest woman you had ever seen. She went to community college and worked at a daycare somewhere around town. Strangely enough, even after years of radio silence in grade school, once you both graduated, you remained in contact. She was one of the few people from Frankenmuth that you kept any kind of contact with, even if it was minimal. (In truth, it was really only the occasional 'how are you' and funny pictures sent through social media, but contact is contact, right?)
"It's good," you nodded, already nearing the end of your drink. "Just a few more months and I'm done, so that's exciting. The city is nice, and so are the people. It's kind of like a home away from home."
"What are you taking, again?" Allyson asked.
"Oh, English literature. Guess I never really grew out of my love for books." You chuckled, stirring your ice around your glass with the straw.
"You did love to read," Beth chuckled, fidgeting with her wedding ring. You wondered if she craved escape the same way you did, or if she ever wondered what life would be like if she didn't rush herself into marriage. After the endless heartbreak her now husband seemed to cause her all those years ago, you doubted that she was any more than just content. People didn't change that much, and you feared that she was still living the same reality as her high school self did.
"I did," you agreed, feeling the awkwardness already begin to creep up on you. "What about you? Your kids are absolutely adorable, by the way." You shifted the attention away from yourself, despising the empty small talk.
"Oh, thank you." She gushed. You could tell that they were her pride and joy, and despite her potential distaste for the life she chose for herself, she had not one bit of regret for them. "I'm doing good, but they definitely keep me busy. Don't have much time for anything else with them running around all of the time."
"I can imagine." You sympathized, wondering if her extended invitation was just an excuse to be a real person and have some alone time for ten minutes. "Love the blog, by the way. Your recipe page is my go to for any kind of get-together." You could tell she needed the gratification, and you never minded dishing any out.
"Really?" She squeaked, almost like she couldn't believe someone actually cared enough to read them.
"Of course." You nodded. Maybe you had misjudged the situation, and catching up after so long wasn't terribly bad. After all, you had all grown and changed so much that it was almost like getting to know each other all over again. "And Allyson, I saw you just got back from Bali not too long ago. How was that?"
"It was phenomenal." She gushed, eager that the conversation was pointed in her direction. "Definitely my favourite place I've been so far." You were almost sickened at the thought of footing her travel bill, but smiled despite your astonishment at the fact that she had the money to travel the world so freely. You were thankful that the bartender came to clear the table, prolonging your process of trying to think of another question. You all put in another drink order, knowing that intoxication would be key to making the night enjoyable. Stale air surrounded you as you waited for the next round of drinks, none of you sure of where to go from there. When your second double of the night was within reach, you could already feel the tension melting away in your shoulders.
"You look really good, y/n." Sarah said, studying every detail your face had to offer. "University life is definitely for you."
"Oh," you gave a nervous laugh "thank you. I finally discovered the benefits of contact lenses, so that really helped." You joked, recalling the bulky frames that used to sit on your nose. They were so horrendous that it was impossible to forget them.
"No, you look happier." She replied, giving you a small smile.
"Yeah, I am." You nodded, knowing that she had hit the nail on the head. Leaving town had done wonders for your mental well-being, and even more for your personal development. You were free to spend time with others just like yourself, and ones so different that they constantly challenged you to step out of your comfort zone. Different as adult was so much better than different as kids, because you never felt shamed or outcasted for your previously strange likes and interests. Different after eighteen was so unlike what you had known as a child, and you quickly learned that there were so many divergent personalities like your own waiting to be discovered. Back when you lived under your parents roof and knew nothing but your high school, you were well aware that if you didn't fit in with the culture of the community, you were better off lying rather than showing your true colours. Small towns always seemed to beat any unconventional traits out of a person and they cherished likeness. There were thousands of people who resided in your town, yet they all seemed like the same personality, just in a different body.
"All it took was getting away from Frankenmuth." Beth said, sending a wink your way.
"Or getting away from Sam Kiszka." Allyson giggled, but you found her comment far from humorous. The name seemed to strike you like a gunshot, tearing through you and leaving little behind. You choked on your drink, sputtering and coughing to expel the liquid and hopefully his memory, too. You hadn't heard the name in a long time, and if you had it your way, you would never hear it again.
"Stop," Beth gave a gentle smack on her arm, but still found herself laughing alongside the other girl. You were too distracted to care about their pointed snickering, already pulled back into a violent confrontation in your mind over the one person you had promised to forget. It seemed that at the sound of his name alone, you could remember his spirit and his presence so clearly, like he was sat right in the booth beside you and no distance had ever separated you from him. You could hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, and you could feel his hand on your arm, gripping you tightly as he laughed at one of your stupid jokes. The air was stolen from your lungs, your own mind was suffocating you as it forced you to recall the memories.
It was almost funny, grieving someone so deeply while they were still alive and breathing. It was almost terrifying, knowing that after years of trying to forget, you only ever seemed to remember with more clarity.
"Do you ever hear from him?" The words pulled you back into reality, but the impact of his memory was so profound that reality did not even seem real. Your eyes flickered up to Beth's face, unsure if they were asking out of curiosity, or if their plan was to torture you all along. You thought it best to just continue as if the topic hadn't completely derailed your entire life in just a few seconds. You were never one to hang your dirty laundry on the line for everyone to see.
"No, never." You shook your head, but it was a lie. Well, only partially. There was a stash of saved voicemails from him in your inbox, but they ended somewhere around your third year of university beginning. The sober version of yourself questioned why you would ever keep such things so easily accessible, as they were nothing but a trophy of your misery, but the drunkest version of you needed to hear them to go to sleep at night. There was an entire album of pictures of him saved deep in the stores of your phone, retrieved only on nights when you had too much wine and too little self control. There was a box of memories tied to a man who no longer knew if you were alive or dead stored in a box underneath your bed, just because you could never find the courage or the strength to discard them. So no, you weren't lying when you said that you never heard from him, but you would be lying in saying that you had managed to rid yourself of him. Even when you begged yourself to forget, you never really wanted to let it all go. You promised yourself that with time, you would finally be free, but the time was nowhere near right yet, even if you wished it was. "He seems to be doing great for himself, though."
"Oh my god, I know." Allyson gushed, almost like she had been waiting to address the elephant in the room. It was a culture shock to everyone in the town to see you and Sam finally go your separate ways, and you were certain that it had been a common topic of discussion for the people left behind. "They're all so hot now."
"Hey," you defended, the response automatic even if it wasn't deserved. "Sam was... I mean, he was... they were all good looking." You muttered, only digging yourself a deeper hole as you continued speaking. A chorus of giggles sounded from the booth, but you did not participate. You wished you could disappear, or even have the booth swallow you whole just to avoid any further embarrassment.
"Some things never change," Beth sighed, reminiscing on an easier life.
"Did you ever meet anyone new?" Sarah asked, hoping to change topics to make it a little more digestible for you. As much as her concern for you was endearing, the time had long passed for any type of relief. You were now completely uninvolved in whatever the dynamic was at the table, instead thrown back into a whirlpool of emotions at the thought of the boy you hoped you would never have to see again. You should have known better than to accept the invitation, because small town girls only ever cared about gossip, and the legacy that you and Sam Kiszka had left on the town was too tempting for them to pass up.
"I mean, there were a couple flings, but nothing ever lasted long." You whispered, burying yourself in the vodka soda to suppress the sour taste that was left in your mouth after speaking his name. "I don't think dating is for me, anyway. Maybe in the future once I'm graduated and have a steady job, but just not right now." You confessed, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.
"Don't say that," Allyson reached over, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. "You never know what's waiting for you. If you don't want to date, just have some fun. No strings attached is a whole new world of possibilities." She gave you a smirk, knowing that you were never the type for meaningless sex. They didn't have to know you very well to know that; innocence was written all over you, even in the newest, most powerful version of yourself.
"You're right," you agreed, mostly just so you could move on, but you couldn't deny that there was some truth in her statement. Maybe you had such a hard time forgetting because you wouldn't allow yourself to learn about anything else. One night of nothing but fun seemed like a sure way to start moving forward, and after a year and a half of radio silence, you figured there could be no harm in trying.
"Oooh," she wiggled her eyebrows, enticed by your intrigue. "Let me pick one for you, please." She said, turning around and looking into the sea of people.
"Maybe not tonight." You laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. You were sat with three women in which you never thought you would speak to again, in the middle of a bar in your hometown that you hated with a passion, while your company begged you to let them pick you a one night stand. A dream would be the most logical explanation for the series of events, but your burning cheeks and nervous jitters were too strong to be a figment of your imagination.
"Why not tonight!" She exclaimed. "The sooner you learn that the world has more to offer than Sam Kiszka, the better you'll feel." She assured you. You gave a tight lipped smile, sipping the last of your drink away, knowing you shouldn't protest the statement. If you did, you would only be further proving your ignorance to the truth, ultimately cementing your blind loyalty to someone who probably hadn't given you a second thought in years. Still, even knowing you shouldn't feel such a way, deep down you believed that the most the world could offer was Sam Kiszka, and you would be foolish for thinking otherwise. "Maybe we'll get a few drinks into you, that'll change your mind." She said, signalling a bartender to the table.
And drink you did; it didn't take long for the rosiness of your cheeks to change from embarrassment to tipsiness. The chatter about your love life died down and was replaced by humorous retellings of stories that had been long forgotten in your minds. Every now and again, Allyson would point to a man walking by in hopes that he would be suitable for your taste, but you always turned the other way. Along the way, you had switched from vodka to rum, and that was never a good thing for you. You were shocked at the lighthearted nature of the hangout, elated that you had decided to come, knowing that this would indeed be the most fun you had during your stay in Frankenmuth. The music only got better the drunker you got, and the bar seemed more and more inviting as you continued to sip away at the alcohol.
Somewhere around the sixth round of drinks, Allyson had convinced the crowd to move to the dance floor and further the fun. You were never one to dance, yet the rum coursing throughout your veins made it seem like a tempting endeavour. With a shot of tequila down and a lime wedge stuck between your lips, you were the first to make the move towards the swarm of bodies. Under the neon strobe lights, the world seemed like such a beautiful place, one in which no heartbreak or melancholic memory could touch you, nor could the weight of your hometown drag you down any further. Phones were out, snapping pictures of a night none of you ever envisioned for yourselves, but it would be one you would remember in years to come. Beth was free of the chains of motherhood for a night, Sarah was celebrating something none of you knew a thing about, Allyson was in search of a suitor for you and for herself, and for the first time in your entire life, Sam Kiszka was not even a thought in your mind.
It was so fantastic, that you even found yourself with your hands all over a nameless man who was quite easy on the eyes. He was tall, had a nice smile, and most importantly, was nothing like the boy you wanted to forget. There were few words shared between the two of you, but it seemed that the liquor was doing all of the work for you. You were both dancing, knowing that it didn't matter what conversation you made, because you were both in search of the same thing; companionship for a single night, then leaving and never speaking again, just like it never happened at all. No Instagram follows, no Facebook stalking, or anything of the sorts. Just simple sexual pleasure without any further requirements. You would even be okay if he neglected telling you his name, because in truth, you did not care. You were only concerned in the ability of his hands, and perhaps even his mouth as long as there was a promise of him using it for anything but speaking.
When the song ended, he whisked you away to the bar to buy you another drink in hopes of winning you over. You did not have the heart to tell him that there was no need for any convincing, because you were more than ready to go home with him for the night. You took post on a bar stool, head swirling with endless possibilities. Your face was warm, and your eyes were glossy with intoxication. Much to your regular-selfs dismay, you would even be willing to compromise for a bathroom hookup just to avoid spending the entire night together. You were hammered, and it had been far too long since you had felt the hands of another. Your only rationale was that one time would not be the end of the world, and you likely wouldn't remember most of it when the sun began shining in the sky again.
"What's your name, beautiful?" He asked, leaning so close to you that your noses were nearly touching. There it was, the dreaded formalities expected before sexual intimacy. You hated it, and you hated getting to know people. Small talk killed you, and talk as simple as that was just dirt piling on top of the casket.
"Y/n," you hummed, drinking down the fruity beverage the bartender had mixed for you. "What about you?"
"Austin," he replied, eyes casting a heavy-lidded gaze over your face.
"I can work with that." You smiled, wondering if he would take the final step toward the finish line, or if you would have to beat him to it.
"I'm sure you can." He grinned, already showcasing excitement for what seemed like a certain agreement between the two of you. "Do you want to head back to my place?"
"I think that would be fine." You nodded, inching closer to him. You wanted to kiss him, but you were afraid that the tension was so intense that you would not be able to contain yourself if you did.
"I'll call us a cab." He said, hand lingering on your hip with a burning touch. He pulled back, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone when you caught sight of a view that made your heart skip a beat. You shifted to the side, hopeful for a better look, even while knowing it was in your best interest to mind your own business and tend to your own needs, for once.
You squinted, trying to rid yourself of the double vision and focus in on your target. You leaned forward on your chair, eyebrows knitted together as you held onto the bar top for support. "Oh my god." You audibly gasped, too drunk to hold back your shock. Your company gave you a look of confusion, unsure of what had caught your eye. When you didn't answer, he turned his head to look in the direction of the disturbance. You waited, hoping that your eyes were deceiving you, but the longer you stared, the more familiar the long mop of curly hair seemed. When the subject in question turned to face the bartender rather than the body beside him, you thought you were going to be sick. You knew that big nose and that blinding smile, and you knew it far too well. It was one you hadn't seen in years, but no amount of time would ever allow you to forget it. "I have to go." You blurred out, rushing to your feet and nearly tripping over yourself to get away.
"Wait, did I do something?" Austin asked, completely clueless about anything that was happening.
"No, sorry, just have to go." You muttered, pulling your jacket from the back of your chair. You grabbed your purse, scrambling away from the scene to try and locate the girls you had spent the evening with. Approaching the dance floor, your eyes landed on the group you had left behind. You scrambled towards them, frantic and breathless in hopes of saying goodbye. When you were a few feet away, a body stepped in front of them before you could reach them. Your eyes widened as you stepped backwards, knowing that there was no way in which you could continue forward with him in your way. He was short, his long brown hair cascading down his shoulders as he adorned a lazy smile. His face was so similar to someone you knew too well, so achingly beautiful and haunting in its familiarity.
You made it off of the dance floor, relieved to be free from an interaction you were absolutely unwilling to have. You let out a long exhale, turning towards the exit. You thought you were in the clear until you saw someone lingering by the main entrance, a dopey grin on his cheeks as he chatted up a group of people at a nearby booth. "Why are there so fucking many of them?!" You exclaimed to yourself, not even loud enough to reach your own ears over the music. You wondered if you could slip by unnoticed; maybe, if you put the hood of your jacket up, he wouldn't even recognize you as you walked by. You thought it was your best chance at escape, not seeing any other way out of the grisly predicament you had found yourself in.
As you were slipping your coat on, you noticed the body by the door finishing up his conversation. Your heart sped, palms breaking into a sweat as you rushed to pull your hood up, but you were much too late. The boy had started to make his way towards you, his curious eyes settled on your face as he attempted to place your astounding familiarity. After a few seconds, his eyes lit up like he'd won the grand prize. He sped his pace, trying to reach you before he lost you. In a panic, you took a few steps backwards, recklessly trying to run before he could close in on you. Instead of a graceful disappearance, you had walked straight into someone standing a few feet behind you. Luckily, the person was not carrying a drink and there was no mess to be had. You figured you could mutter an apology and be on your way.
You turned, ready to rush out an apologetic comment for being so clumsy, but when your eyes landed on the face, you thought the ground was going to disappear from under you and the sky would come crashing down. Your stomach was positively sick with stress and your heart was on the verge of combusting. Your hands were shaking, no longer concerned with concealing your face, because there was no need to hide, anymore. You had been caught red handed, and by the absolute worst person out of them all. If you would have just mustered the courage for an awkward chat with one of the others, perhaps you would not have been so unlucky to run into Sam Kiszka himself, smiling down at you with a far away look in his eye.
"Long time no see, Rapunzel." He gave you a small smirk, stealing the air directly from your lungs and effectively shattering your psyche.
Your house was still, not a peep to be heard from any of your siblings bedrooms nor your parents. The soft hum of the television could be heard if you listened hard enough. Your fathers snoring was extremely faint in the background, and the putter of rain against the steel roof enveloped the home in a cozy atmosphere. For a Saturday night, you were all tucked away considerably early with no better place to be. You had your record player on the lowest setting, giving an ambience in your room without disturbing any peace. A soft yellow light from a lamp by your beside was the only thing illuminating the room, and you were seconds away from sleep. That was, until a soft plunk of something hitting against your window scared you back into wakefulness.
You climbed from your bed, uncertain of the cause of the noise, yet having a sneaking suspicion rise in the back of your mind. As you peered into the darkness of the night, your heart gave an excited flutter as your eyes landed on the culprit. You cracked the window open, popping the screen out and gently leaning it against your wall. "Let down your hair, Rapunzel." His voice was quiet, both of you fearful of being caught but never enough to sway your decision on seeing each other.
You reached down, extending your hands to him. He grabbed on to them and you helped him up, slowly letting go once you were certain he had a good grip on the windowsill. He pulled himself up, gracelessly tumbling inside through the small open area. "You're stupid, you know." You giggled, making sure to be as quiet as possible.
"You love it." Sam said, looking down at you. There was a glimmer of adoration shining in his eye, one that told you he would be happy to insulted by you for the rest of his life. "My parents weren't home, so I figured I'd come and see you."
"Well, my parents are home, and they'll kill us if we get caught." He was barely listening to you, already sliding the window shut to lock out the cold air. He turned back to you, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. You melted into the feeling, knowing that it had realistically only been a day since you had felt his touch, but it felt more like an eternity.
"I would be more than happy to die if it meant it would be by your side, y/n." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered closed at the euphoric feeling, knowing that you too would be alright with dying as long as he was by your side.
"How are you, Samuel?" You asked, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you tried to think of a way out of the conversation.
"Better now that you're here." He said, looking as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, yet knowing that he shouldn't.
"Please, let's not act like this is a joyous reunion." You chuckled, averting your gaze to the floor. The longer you looked at him, the worse your chest ached.
"Come on, Princess. You knew it was bound to happen sooner or later." He chuckled, looking down at you with the same adoration he had all of those years ago. His hair was longer now; you recalled the last time you saw him, when he had told you he was working on growing it out. You had seen pictures, but he was so much different in person. The childish nature of his face had long gone, replaced by the face of a man you no longer knew. It was horrific, astounding to know that everything had changed. He was not the same person you remembered him as, and it was a hard pill to swallow even if you had been telling yourself that for months.
But, just because you knew that Sam was not the same person who once was so important to you, did not mean that you wanted to accept the fact. As you continued staring at him, a lifetimes worth of memories flooded back to you, making home in your heart despite you desperately trying to keep them out. His eyes held familiarity, and a sense of home that you hadn't felt since the last time he stood before you, and they were drawing you in further with every second that passed. You would forever break underneath the weight of your love for Sam, and even years after the initial heartbreak, the feeling never seemed to fade. It had been more than a year since you were last face to face with him, now accompanied by someone you knew absolutely nothing about, but there was a fizzle of joy in your heart to finally be in his presence again. You hated him, but you loved him despite the hatred, and that was the most wretched part about it. He knew you so wholly and completely that you despised him for it, yet it held an odd comfort that you had never felt with another. You never wanted anyone to know you as well as Sam, but most of the time, you did not even want him to know you so well.
"Guess I did," you shrugged, looking down at the floor. "Can't ever seem to stay away from each other." It was the painful truth; no matter how far you ran, you could never get far enough away. Or, you ran so far that you made it all the way around the world, just to end up staring at the back of his head.
"You look stunning, y/n." He said, almost seeming nervous to voice the compliment. "I miss you."
"Thanks." You mumbled, your cheeks turning red at the kind words. "I, uh... I miss you, too."
"I left so many voicemails, and I never heard back. Just figured it would be best to give you some space. Didn't realize it would turn into months, and then I was too scared to reach out." He explained. You bit down on the inside of your lip, recalling the declined calls and unanswered messages. You felt horrible about it, yet you knew that it was ultimately for the best. Back then, you never pictured yourself coming face to face with him again. Maybe if you had at least given an amicable goodbye, it wouldn't be so difficult to look him in the eyes. Then again, you could not blame yourself too harshly for leaving without a word, because god knows he deserved much less than a silent goodbye.
"Some things are better left unsaid, Sam." You reminded, trying shake away the looming sadness that was hanging over your head. How can you love someone's company and loathe it all the same?
"I know, and I don't blame you." He agreed, hoping that you knew he wasn't angry. "Can I buy you a drink, maybe? I know it won't make up for anything, but it's the least I could do. It would be really nice to catch up." You looked up, finally meeting his eyes. You wished you hadn't, because the pain he held in his gaze was too much to bear. It was the same one you had been carrying around for so long. You wanted to say yes, to let the past remain the past and move forward somehow, but you felt frozen. It would be nice to hear about his life, to say hello to his brothers, and Danny. 'Sweet Danny' you thought, another wave of grief washing over you. You missed him so badly, and you craved to rekindle your friendship with him, but he had always been Sam's friend, first. It would not be fair for you to impede on their relationship for any selfish reason, and selfishness seemed to be all you knew when it came to Sam.
"No," you shook your head, the weight of your rejection heavy in the air. "No, Sam. I have to get home."
"Oh," he attempted to cover his hurt with the word, but it only made it all the more clear. "Yeah, okay. Maybe some other time?" It was not likely that you would ever be willing to make plans with him in the future, but you could not seem to break the bad news to him. Instead, a little white lie would solve your immediate problems, and you could continue on trying to pretend he did not exist. That way, you would never actually need to confront the issue. Avoidance was a game the two of you had mastered, and you only thought it right to keep up the same energy.
"Sure, Sam. Some other time." You nodded, already stepping away from him. "Have a good night."
"You too, y/n. It was good seeing you." He said, wishing he could find the right words to convince you to stay. Instead, he watched as you disappeared into the sea of people, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again.
You pushed through the door, tumbling into the night as tears threatened your eyes. Your heart was heavy, so heavy that you were having trouble placing one foot in front of the other due to the sheer weight of it. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, trying to keep out the cold and exile the lingering feeling of his company. You wished that you had declined the girls invitation, not because of any reason you previously thought you would, but because you knew that the innocent reunion with Sam would hinder your healing and bring you right back to square one. The hardest part about being in love with Sam was not actually loving him, but rather falling out of love with him. You had been trying for years, and every time you thought you made progress, it would ultimately be for nothing, because something else would come along that would make you fall in love all over again.
As you walked back to your childhood home, the streets reminding you of the version of yourself you were desperate to kill, you realized that your hatred for Frankenmuth had little to do with your need for change. You weren't eager to leave because of the gossip, nor the close-minded nature of the population, and not even because of the lack of substance. Your hometown was quite beautiful if you knew where to look, and held charm like no other. It was not the worst place in the world, and in truth, it was quite far from it. Your desperation to leave was directly accredited to your desire to forget Sam Kiszka. You wished to purge yourself of his memory and erase him from your life. You craved to be a new person, one who his hand never had the opportunity to touch, and one who was strong enough to break from the incessant cycle that you had been stuck in since the beginning of time. The person you wished not to be was not the one who grew up in a small town in Michigan, it was the one who fell irrevocably and unequivocally in love with Sam.
As you wiped a tear from your cheek, you were terrified that you would never see a lifetime in which he did not exist. Above all else, you feared that even if you escaped the town and the shackles in which it held you with, you would still never be free from the curse of loving Sam Kiszka with every fibre of your being