~Marshall's P.O.V.~
It does not seem real to me. I woke up this morning and she wasn't next to me. I made coffee for one person. There was no makeup in the bathroom I had to work around. There were no bras on the floor for me to step over. And about five minutes ago I was hit with the sickening realization that she is gone.
I'm sitting on the couch, staring at absolutely nothing. The CD she made me for Christmas plays on my stereo. It hurts, everything hurts. I sit there in my living room feeling pain and then numb and then pain again. She left me, she really left me.
I feel my eyes beginning to water and for the first time in my life I don't fight it. I let myself cry. I love her, and she left. Every time I think about it I get sick. I looked her in the eye and begged her to stay and she still left. She swore she wouldn't leave me, we were supposed to be together forever. She was it for me. She might find another but I won't.
"Fuck." I say out loud, clenching my eyes shut and crying harder.
How could she do this? What did I do wrong? God I'm fucking miserable. I told her over and over that I'm in love with her and she still walked out. Doesn't she love me? Of course she does. She wouldn't have stayed this long with me if she didn't. Fuck I miss her already. I told her I wouldn't be happy. I'll never get over her. I'll never find one like her. I don't want to. She's the only girl for me.
I put my face in my hands, leaning forward. Fucking hell, this hurts more than any fight I've ever been in. I can't stop remembering her face when she said goodbye to me. It looked like she didn't want to leave but she did anyway. It's killing me. My eyes burn with the sensation, and I inhale shaking breaths.
My phone buzzes beside me on the couch. It's been going off all day but I never answer. Its never who I want it to be. The buzzing ceases and then immediately starts up again. I glance down, its Rule. He's called seven times today.
"Fuck." I say out loud, and quickly try to compose my voice. "What?" I hiss into the phone.
"Where the fuck have you been all damn day?" He fires back, sounding more pissed than me.
"I'm not coming in today, I have a thing." I can't bring myself to tell him, I need to be alone.
"A thing?" Rule snarls. "What the hell kind of excuse is that? I know you're just gonna stay home with Rachel all day."
The words sting. I wish I was staying with her today, but she isn't here. I want to punch him in the nose for saying that, but I remind myself that he doesn't know any better.
"I'm not staying home with her today." I explain, the hostility never leaving my voice.
"Good, then you have ten fucking minutes to get here." He threatens.
"She left me." I blurt out, some tears racing down my cheeks.
"What?" He sounds confused, like he didn't hear me right.
"Rachel." I say again, my voice cracking and betraying me. "She left me last night."
"What?" He says again, definitely confused. "When's she coming back?"
"She's not fucking coming back." I shout at him. "She broke up with me, and she's not coming back so I'm not fucking coming in today!" I yell at him.
"Mars-"
I hang up before he can finish. I wait a couple minutes and realize that he won't call again. I clutch my phone in my hands and feel some tears come again. And I don't know why I do it, I shouldn't be doing it, it's stupid and wrong of me, but I dial her number. It's as I expected, I get her voicemail and it hurts to hear her voice.
"Hey, it's me again." I say into the phone, trying to hide the shaking in my voice. "I miss you. A lot. And I don't really understand how this happened, but I know that I love you and I want you to come back. I'd do anything to have you back-"
The phone beeps on the other line. "This phone's voicemail is full, if you would like to continue your message-"
I hang up. All of those messages are from me. God I shouldn't have called. I shut my eyes and some more tears fall.
"Fuck!" I yell, and chuck my phone onto the armchair next to the couch not so nicely.
It hurts so fucking bad. Suddenly, I feel like it's a thousand degrees in here. I can't breathe anymore. Sweat pools on my forehead and on my neck. Fuck, it's the panic attacks, they're back. I try and think about what I usually do but I remember that I would usually go to Rachel. I stand from the couch and take in heaving breaths, backing up to the wall. I sink to the floor and fully submit myself to the crying. There's only one way to get through this, and it's to let it destroy me.
***
~Rachel's P.O.V.~
The plane is somewhat small. There's only two seats per row. Mom and Paul are seated towards the tail end of the plane and Thatcher and I are the first row behind first class. I stair at the window as the airport employees put all our bags in the cargo hold. One of the men working is young, and tall with blonde hair.
My chest tightens. From all the way up here it looks like him. I watch him put bag after bag up on the conveyor belt until there are no bags left. I watch him walk back towards the airport building and it hurts me. I feel like it's Marshall walking away. And I wonder why it hurts so bad, I'm the one that walked away. I imagine how he felt when I left and that's when the tears come.
I try to keep my eyes focused on the window. I don't want everyone on the plane to know that I'm crying. I bite down on my knuckle, anything to keep from making any noise. I try and fail at this, making a light gasping noise.
"Don't like planes?" Thatcher asks, laughing slightly.
I immediately remove my knuckle from my mouth and turn to face him. Thatcher bares no similarities to Marshall looks wise, and I thank god for that. His hair is a dark chocolate brown and his eyes are plain old green like mine. Scruff lines his jawline and the bottom portion of his cheeks. He looks very well put together, for someone who's traveling.
"No it's not planes." I say, using my sleeve to get some tears away.
"Don't like heights?" He tries again, smiling with the whitest, straightest teeth I've ever seen. Looks like Cash has some competition for best smile.
"No it's not that either." I answer, shaking my head. I look at him while he cocks his head to one side and knits his eyebrows.
"A guy?" He tries one last time.
I nod. Thatcher nods too in sympathy.
"You wanna talk about it?" He offers. "We got time."
"Yes, but I can't." I explain. "Not without crying like a baby on this plane anyway."
Thatcher purses his lips and nods once. I flinch slightly when he takes my hand. I look down and raise a brow, and then bring my gaze up to meet him. I can't help but notice the Calvin Klein watch he has on the wrist he's holding my hand with.
"I'll be here if you change your mind." He smiles. "After all, we're gonna have to get used to each other if we're gonna live together for the next month."
I glance down again and slowly pull my hand away, kind of freaked out by his touchy nature.
"Look Thatcher, I like just got out of a relationship and I'm not-"
"Oh my god." He says and starts busting out laughing. "Did you think I was-?" He's cut off again by another wave of laughter.
"Well you're holding my hand and smiling and saying you're here for me." I whisper yell at him, not understanding what is so funny.
"Rachel I wasn't trying to flirt with you." He laughs yet again. "I'm gay."
Hm. A nice smiling gay man to be my new best friend for the next month while Ren is in Detroit. Very intriguing. I smile back at him and he puts a hand over mine.
"Look don't sweat it about this guy." He tells me. "If he really loves you, he'll do anything to get you back."
"I know." I nod. "That's the problem."
"Huh?" He knits his eyebrows.
"It's what he would do to get me back." I explain to him. "He boxes for a living, I don't know what he would do. He could seriously hurt someone or himself."
"Rach if you're so worried about him why'd you leave?" He asks, tilting his head to the side again.
"How do you know I'm the one that left him?" I ask, squinting at him.
"I can tell by the way you cry." He says. "And also since you clearly love him so much, if he broke up with you, you wouldn't be on this plane. You'd be chasing him down begging for a second chance."
I half smile at him and the pilot comes over the speaker and tells us that we will be taking off shortly. I stare at the window again and think about what Thatcher said. Why hasn't Marshall tried to come stop me from leaving? I guess he doesn't want to come stop me. As if I would let him. The airplane pulls away from the gate and I watch the airport disappear as we turn around. He didn't come.
I grip Thatcher's hand tighter than I did before and stare out the window, letting the tears flow freely and silently. It's gonna be a long trip, but having a friend should make it a little easier.