alexis
As we walk into Calum's apartment, I become aware how utterly exhausted I am. My head aches, my stomach growls, and my shoulders are weighted. I can't do this anymore.
I sigh and shut the door behind us. He didn't open the door for me the way he used to do. No, instead he opened it weakly for himself and nearly let it slam behind him. If I wouldn't have caught the door, it would have locked before I could even enter the apartment. I wonder if he even would have come back for me.
Immediately, he collapses onto the sunken sofa, leaving me to deal with the damage that he has done, or that we both have done. He doesn't even bother to turn on the lights. In this sense, it seems to me that he is giving up. He leaves me to turn on the lights for him, but I am too stubborn for that, and so we sit in darkness.
I will hold open doors for myself all day long, but I will not turn on the lights for his benefit.
It doesn't matter much anyway; The sun will rise soon, to announce the beginning of the new day. A fresh start, or so it was supposed to be. But it seems that there are no fresh starts for the heartbroken, ain't no rest for the wicked, not when the past is so overwhelming, as it is for us.
Calum just sits there and stares at the wall, and I can feel the anger burning in my chest at his lack of action. But what angers me most is the way I find it cute the way he is slouching, and it takes absolutely everything in me not to curl up next to him so that we both can sleep this night off.
In attempt to distract myself, I take this opportunity to glance around the apartment. It's messy, in such a way that no longer comforts me. It used to be that his lack of organization was cute and careless, but now it seems lazy and disgusting. The dirty windows and counters make me shudder almost as much as the posters on the wall are crooked.
And it is now that I finally realize that I no longer see the world through rose colored glass and that this less bias side of things is much, much uglier.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him get up. He leaves the couch, hanging his head low as he walks over to the fridge, as if he is ashamed of something. I assume he is going to get a snack for the both of us, but I couldn't be more wrong. Instead, he pulls out a beer. He examines the glass bottle and then looks at me and offers me one.
"No Calum, I don't want a fucking beer," I try to yell at him, but my voice comes out all quiet and defeated. It seems my body is beginning to give up this fight; The fight for us, the fight for happiness.
It is during this moment when I really feel things start to end, and suddenly the worry that nothing is ever going to get better hits me, and nearly knocks me down. If I was stuck like this for the rest of my life-unhappy, unsatisfied, in search of something better- I think I'd kill myself.
And then he sighs and puts the beer back, and for just a split second I can see our future again. It is beautiful and golden and full of laughter and love. Maybe he decided he doesn't need a drink, not when I am here to take care of him.
But instead, he opens up a cabinet next to the fridge, and pulls out a bottle of vodka.
And everything in me shatters, all at once. I sit down.
He examines the label for a moment and mutters something unintelligible to himself, and then he opens it up with such experience and ease that it actually pains me. And then he takes a swig, and it's a strong swig, and he tilts his head back so that it comes out faster. He swallows it as it comes down, without stopping. And then at least a third of the bottle is gone, and so if all of my hope.
He doesn't even grimace, not even a little bit. Instead, he keeps a straight face. And when he is done he swings the bottle around a little bit and laughs a terrible, haunting laugh.
And that is what breaks me.
He comes back to the couch, bottle in hand, swinging it with pride like a trophy that he has just won or something, and not a bottle of toxins that threaten the stability of our relationship.
He nearly falls backwards onto the couch, leaning into me. He messily plants a kiss on my cheek and then slumps down, and we are sitting so close that it seems we are one. And for a moment I can't seem to move. I wonder if this is even worth the fight, if I should just walk out and never step foot in this god damn apartment again. I wonder where our lives would go if I left like this, in the same way that he left me: with no warning and no good reason.
No, I have plenty of good reason. I have so much good reason that is just about exploding out of me, just as his ignorance is spilling out of him.
And so I stand.
I walk so that I am in front of him, and he looks up at me and stares at my face, and then takes another long swig without breaking eye contact with me. My heart begins to beat faster as the burning in my chest increases suddenly.
"Calum, please," I whisper, I beg. He only looks at me with tired eyes and a tired soul.
A year ago, I would have just giggled about this habit of his and maybe even taken part in it. But I know better now- I know that this is more than a habit and that it is as real of a problem as every other thing that is so out of place.
I cross my arms, staring down at him. And then I look down at myself for the first time tonight. Behind Calum is a mirror on the wall and I look into it, and I gasp. The circles below my eyes are dark and stained with tears that I didn't even notice were falling, and my eyes are bloodshot. My clothing has Luke's blood splattered all over everything- my sweatshirt, my leggings. Everything is ruined, everything is ruined.
"What do you want me to say?" He asks quietly but still with direction. "That I'm sorry? Well I'm not." He tells me. "And I'm not sorry about that either."
My heart stops.
"Calum," My voice cracks and my eyes flood and everything in my breaks all over again. I collapse, finally, and throw my arms around this boy that I love so much. I fall onto the couch and he holds me so close that I can barely breathe. But even so, I savor the moment. "Calum I am so sorry," I sob into his chest. I burry my face in his old grey shirt and he holds me with one arm, and the bottle in the other.
"What are you so sorry for?" He asks just as his words begin to slur, looking into my eyes. He runs his fingers through my hair and pushes it back behind my ear so that he can actually see my eyes. He looks into them for much too long, but I look back. And I try to memorize everything about him. I see the circles under his eyes and his frown lines and his sad eyes.
But more than that, I see his kindness and his humor and his good heart that has somehow gotten lost in all of this.
And for that, I am the most sorry.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save us," I finally let it out, and I already start to feel better.
"What do you mean?" He pulls back.
"Calum, I can't do this anymore."
"I can get you a change of clothes," He says in attempt to change the subject, to distract me. He turns his heads and looks towards his bedroom. He knows what's coming, even with the alcohol rushing through his veins, and even in his denial. He knows, and this hurts me too much.
"I can't do this anymore," The words finally spill out of me. And this sentence was not a whisper. It was loud and confident, which are not things that I used to be. I'm sure that he is shocked by my dominance.
"Do what?" He turns back and asks me. She looks up at me, and there is heartbreak in her eyes. And that is when I know that this is different.
"Calum, you know. Don't make me say it." I say desperately. My heart starts to beat faster and I feel us slipping away. And I already miss him so much.
"What can't you do?" He asks in denial
"This," I say gently, because it's the only way that I know how to say it. I watch as he looks at me, hoping desperately that he will stop playing stupid. But he doesn't. He only looks at me with his eyes wide open, and so much fear present. He just looks so sad, and as much as this truly pains me, I have to do it.
"God fucking dammit Calum, I can't be with you anymore." I tell him, and he closes his eyes. Moments pass, moments of me staring at him and hoping for something, anything. But when he finally speaks, it hurts worse than the silence.
"I know," he nods slowly, finally letting the denial go. , and sets the bottle aside. He looks up at me and pats the sofa cushion next to him. I look at the place where he patted it, the place where he wants me to sit, but I don't move.
"Lex," he whispers. "It's okay, baby," I sob and fall beside him on the couch, and wrap my arms around him. My face crumples up and the tears fall so fast and all at once as he hugs me with everything in him. He holds me so tight that I can barely breathe. I burry my face in his neck and I sob into him, leaning until I am sitting in his lap.
He breaks down too, but not because of the alcohol. It is not because of the events of the past few months. It is not because he beat up his best friend for me, or because he most likely is loosing him too. It is not because I ruined his chance at music, or going somewhere with football.
Instead, this moment is about us, and everything that we have felt for each other. Because these feelings were so real, they were so real and pure and we both knew this with everything in us. The love that we had for each other will shape the rest of our lives, hopefully for the better. Because I will not let this ruin my life. I will look at the bright side, and I will love myself for that.
...
I walk home in the rain. The sun is rising in the distance, as is a new beginning. My chest heaves the whole way home. My eyes are so swollen I am sure that they will not go down for days, and my nose is so clogged I have to keep my mouth open so that I can breathe.
It is the first of August, and in one short week I will be flying home, to my real home, in Seattle. That is where I truly belong.
As I approach the driveway of Gram's house, the door flies open, and Gram appears. She is angry, and red, and confused about where I have been for the night. But in truth, she has not known where I have been for the whole summer. Because I have not been here, with her, as I was supposed to be. Even when I was here physically, I was somewhere else mentally. And she knows this just as well as I do.
"Oh honey," she sighs as soon as she sees me. I'm covered in dried blood, and my face is red and swollen from crying so hard. I am soaked because of the summer rainstorm that wasn't even supposed to happen, and I am utterly exhausted.
I walk straight into Gram's arms, and lean my head into her, beginning to sob all over again. "It's over," I heave. "Everything is done,"
I stayed in the house for most of the remainder of my time here, though this time was different, because I did not isolate myself in my bed and feel sorry for myself. Instead, I spent it in the living room with Gram. We watched old movies, and laughed and cried together. We bonded more in that single week than we had during my entire summer of shutting her out.
I'd finally made a friend.
...
the next chapter will be the final chapter of the book!! following that will be an epilogue and an author's note, and then we are done.
i am so excited for the ending and i hope you guys are too. it's a long time coming and i hope it will be everything you hoped for.
qootd: what do you hope the ending will be??
thank you so much for 17.6k.