My theory isn't going to well right now. As of now it's raining and I'm throwing clothes that I think are mine into a bag. It's dark and I don't want to turn on any of the lights in Hayes' room. I may have accidentally grabbed a few of his shirts since they were mixed in with mine. Like I said, no lights, no one can know I'm awake. I walk into his bathroom and grab my toothbrush, hairbrush, and makeup. Do I have everything I need?
I scrabbled words down on the back of some paper I found on his desk. I had no idea how the letters turned out sense the pencil I used was dull and the room was only lit up by the crescent moon and street lights outside.
I take in a few deep breaths and grab my bag that was on his bed. My feet stop moving right before I come up to the stairs. But then I go down the stairs quickly, not bothering to make noise at this point.
My head is filled with so many thoughts and scenarios. I look at the pictures of Hayes' family on his walls. I can barley make out who each of them are, but they are there. Then I keep my pace to the front door and wipe a tear off my cheek.
A cool breeze hit my face once I opened the front door and I see the cab I called waiting for me on the street curb. I stand in the door frame for a few moments just to make sure I won't regret doing the actions in doing. I know I'll regret this later, I know I will. But it is the best thing for me and him.
I pull the door shut behind me as quietly as possible to prevent waking anyone, especially Hayes, his room is right above the front door.
A queasy feeling sits on my stomach as soon at my butt his the leather sit in the cab. I tell the driver to go to the airport and he pulls out of the driveway soon after.
↠Hayes
I wake up to the sun shining through the shades and leaving shadows from where the blinds are. The bed next to me is also empty and cold, she must have gotten up long ago.
I sit up without getting out of bed. My hands run through my hair and I just sit there and attempt to think of a reason why I would have come in here last night after I became infuriated with her only hours before.
One possibility is that I could hear her sobbing. I just wanted all the muffled crying to stop. And honestly I don't know if she was crying over me or how absolutely stupid her actions were. But God, did being able to hear every gasp of air she's tried to grab was heart wrenching. She tried to quiet herself too, I could tell. She tried to shove her face into a pillow to try to mute herself. It didn't work so well.
So I get up out of bed once hearing her cry became unbearable. I walked into the room and she stop crying as soon and the door opened. I saw her silhouette lying in that bed and hugging a pillow to stop herself from shaking. So I crawled into the space next to her and wrapped her into my arms. I had to say something to her, so I told her exactly what the truth was.
My bare feet hit the cold floor and I stand up and stretch. I head down the carpeted staircase and then into the kitchen. Nash sits there eating Captain Crunch and ignores my existence. I deserve that, I do. Then I take a look at his black eye that my single punch created yesterday evening.
"My bad," I say, not really meaning it.
"It's fine," he said.
"It wasn't an apology," I say back. I honestly don't regret punching him, maybe a little, but not totally. I've only punched another person once in my life. My reason being that during my freshman year some jackass shoved my friend into a gym locker. It hurt like a bitch.
Nash just eats his cereal without saying a word and I pop myself some bread into the toaster. "Bradie said you punched me because I called her a couple weeks back."
I slam the jar of jelly down on the counter I had gotten out. "Yeah, what the hell?"
"Bro, I just wanted what's best for you."
"And you don't think that could be her?"
"Whatever, dude," he ends the conversation there and I'm delighted he does so.
Even though I don't have the desire to continue to talk to him I ask him if he has seen Bradie this morning and he answers no.
My bread, which is now toast, pops up. I spread raspberry jelly on the two slices I prepared for myself and take them upstairs with me on a plate.
I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, "B?" I yell. No response. I yell her name again and I still don't get an answer from B, but my mom instead.
"You're looking for Bradie?" she asks with her head popped out of her bedroom. I nod my head. It surprises me that she hasn't asked about why B went up the stairs crying last night or why I punched my brother in the face, she just let it go. "Sorry sweetie, I haven't seen her," she pulls her head back into her room and the door shuts.
I open the door to Skylynn's room then shut once I see that no one is in there at all. So then I go to my room, where I probably shoud have gone in the first place. I flick on the light and the first thing I notice is that B's pile of clothes is moved off my floor. I kept telling her to use my drawers which are basically empty but she kept insisting that the floor was simpler.
I set my plate down on my dresser and pull all the drawers open and only see my clothes. Then my eyes catch a note with her handwriting that looks sloppier than usual.
I can't put you through loving me. I'm sorry -B
My heart rate picks up tremendously. I scramble through my room to try to find the large duffle bag she brought everything in. No where to see seen. I run to the bathroom down the hall and the counter in completely clear. None of her makeup or hair products are here. My stomach sinks and my throat becomes dry.
I run down the stairs so quickly I'm surprised I didn't trip over myself. I reached the kitchen and slammed B's note down in front of Nash. "This is your fault!" I yell. "You opened your big ass mouth and scared her off!"
"What?" he picks up the note and after a second of processing his eyes bug out. "Shit," he says.
"Yeah! Shit is right," I run my fingers through my hair and pace around the kitchen.
How could she just leave? She didn't say a damn thing. Just a note was left. That's all I get from her? After months of being emotionally involved and all I got was a note. A measly nine words. And last night when she cried I didn't know she was contemplating leaving. I knew when I heard her soul go dry after periods of hysterical outbursts that I couldn't handle it. I knew I wasn't strong enough for her, but I would try and the only thing I could do was try to be the best I can be for her. And she's leaves.
She loves the sunset and how the moon likes up the sky even though the moon is not defined as a light source it's self. She loved all the different shades of purple and green when she got a bruise and all the different kinds of animals and how animal brains don't have the capacity that humans do. She loved how the night was so unique and that the night sky was the only thing in her life that would make a good change. She loved books and the concept of getting attached to fictional people. And so I wonder if it's true that in order to love someone else that you have to love yourself first. She loved all these different things that it almost doesn't make sense that she didn't love herself or that she wasn't capable of loving me.
I snatch the car keys off the counter and dart to the front door and out until the pouring rain. Nash follows behind me but stops on the porch before getting soaked. "Where are you doing to go?" he yells through his voice getting caught in the water falling and hitting the cement.
"After her," I say and unlock the car but I don't actually get in it yet even though that would be the brightest thing to do.
"Hayes, you don't know where she is. She left you," my brother says in the most sincere way I think he could manage. But his words get to me. The fact that she left me after she cried to just drive home with me. She decided I wasn't good enough for her or that she wasn't good enough for me anymore and left, and that's how she wants to end this. And she is gone and I'm out here drenched in sorrow and cold drops of rain.
And she has this theory. One that says you can't be upset if you're dancing in the rain. She says that it's physically impossible, it's like all good things is stored up in little water droplets that fall from the sky. I don't really know how she came up with this, but I know it's only from personal experience. She says that when you're in the rain, no umbrella, no rain coat, that you have to be happy. Well she's clearly never been in a situation like this. Because here I am, standing out in the cold rain, torn apart.
I have nothing left to do now, so I lock the car back up and head back to the front door. I brush past Nash and into the living room to soak the couch with the water dripping from me and the puddles created every time I stepped. My socks were filled to there capacity of water because I wasn't thinking enough to put on shoes. I sit on the couch and stare blankly at the floor while I feel the cushions underneath me planishes with water. I turn my call on speaker but all I get is voice mail. I try two more times, voice mail each time. I feel water roll down my cheek which could either a drop of water from my flattened hair or a tear. She is gone.