[Sandcastles by Beyoncé]
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TWENTY-THREE: when you find a new normal.
"Do you regret it?" We were sitting on the couch again, we always seemed to return back to previous comforts. He was leaning on his side, turned towards me, shoes at the door to signal he'd be there for a long time. His eyes were on mine and it was so normal, so calm and serene and maybe I was in a euphoric state.
I didn't want to take into account that this was probably a one time thing.
Paul's brows knitted together, head leant on his hand, elbow on the back of the couch and he was turned towards me. His lashes fluttered quickly and my heart followed suit. "Do I regret what? Us?" When I nodded, his nose scrunched up, that same cute way it always did. "Why would I ever regret that?"
His voice was soft, sweet and charming as usual, it was the reason everyone was in love with him.
I missed moments like this, moments where it felt like nothing could touch us and I intended to hold onto it for as long as he let me. He seemed confused, as if my question was completely absurd.
"Because we hurt each other."
He shrugged then and I wondered how we got to this point. "The person I was with you is the person I wanna be."
"So, it's based off self-interest?"
The laugh he let out then was so pretty. "So, classifying yourself as a writing major both extended your vocabulary and made you pretentious?"
I was blushing, it shooting up my neck and warming my cheeks, the man in front of me was laughing harder now and I knew somehow, we'd be okay. "Shut up."
And we sat silent for a second.
I pushed all the prospective pain to the side. Even if we didn't end the way I wanted, even if this ended heartbreakingly, I didn't mind.
I didn't want to push this away because I knew it might cost me later, I was content because he seemed as lost as I did. Paul seemed so completely careless and willing to fall into this feeling, maybe those were our best moments. Maybe our love thrived when expectations were disregarded.
"You helped me forgive myself for a lot of things, you taught me how to trust someone again." The smile he wore turned sad, it holding so many memories I figured were gone by now and Paul was staring into my eyes. "And because of that, I'm a better person."
I'm better because of you.
"I'm lucky to have met you when I did, I'd like to think you feel the same."
I'm kind because of you.
"I do."
I focused so much on the bad with us that I barely even remembered the good and that wasn't fair to him. Paul had always loved me so kindly and so, so patiently and without fault. It would be cruel for me to forget that. "Do you still trust me?"
"I do."
There was something I wanted to know and maybe it was selfish to ask but sitting here with him already felt like a dream, it was best to let everything out now. "When... you and Isaiah-" He already saw where it was going, I was sure, his lip tugged into his mouth and I couldn't stop now, "do you love him?"
That trust he needed in order to feel secure... it was something that we shared, something that meant a lot to me, meant so much to both of us. And I hated the fact that I couldn't get past the idea that he shared the same thing with Isaiah.
It wouldn't be that off, would feel only reasonable as Isaiah had a significant amount of weight on him, it made sense.
But damn, would it hurt.
When it had been a while and he still didn't speak, I started to doubt the validity of my questions. He looked lost in thought, worry etched across this face and I wasn't sure if this was too much. Was it fair to ask? "Sorry, sorry that wasn't-"
"No."
I tried not to allude to how much that calmed me.
"I like him."
"So... you're close?"
"He gets me, artistically. Or he's good, maybe it makes me better. We're not friends, not the way you and I were... I don't trust him like that, not in that way." He'd continued, trying to find the words to explain it every few seconds. I remembered days where we'd sit beside each other at the clearing in the woods, listening to the waterfall and we'd just talk.
We'd talk about everything and nothing, barring souls and everything. Not seeing each other for so long, we had more material to talk about, more conversations to start and finish, that much was obvious because this day alone was the most in touch I felt with him. I felt more connected now than I did the entire last half of our relationship.
Paul must have felt the same, eyes still on mine and I watched tears silently fall, fighting the urge to wipe them away because I knew it would make him shrink back. I couldn't allow myself to get too comfortable, I told myself that even when I knew I was already too deep.
There was no way I could walk away from this now and go back to how we were before, I couldn't not talk to him again.
He spoke softly, reaching for his own wet skin, tugging at it to dry it. "I still have a lot to work on, I don't think it's ever gonna come naturally to me, I think I'm always gonna have this guard."
And that made sense, more sense than he probably thought it did. He'd been through a lot, it was only normal to want some space. When you were hurt so much, it was hard to trust.
"... You were different. You were my best friend."
"I don't want another love it it's not like that."
When we were together, we rarely talked about his past, maybe cause we surpassed all the trust issues they caused.
"You always understand me more than anyone else." Maybe time had done us more good than bad, at least, that was what seeing him like this was telling me. As much as I hurt to be away from him, there was a subtle resolution when we came back together. "You know, I... I'm gonna get some good pieces when I go home."
"That's all you think about, huh?" It came with the ghost of a laugh and I teased his name, it tasting bittersweet on my tongue. I remembered whimpering it like a prayer, his lips all over me, body intertwined and wrapped around mine. "Pablo-Luis."
"I've actually been having trouble painting."
I forgot that we could have hours of conversation and it felt like minutes... forgot that even when I said things that didn't need to be said, he tried his best to understand and I often forgot the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place but sitting there with him, it was all I could think about.
He was kind.
Paul cared about others so much that sometimes it backfired but I still knew that it made him, him... He volunteered himself to causes, did anything and everything he could. He spread that kindness wherever he went and didn't expect it to be returned, he was a physical embodiment of sunshine and I was a rain cloud.
But Paul was also self-conscious about everything he did, he doubted all the good that came from him, a trait I saw in myself. People tended to say you fell in love with a more-advanced version of yourself and that was your soulmate.
I wasn't sure about the concept but I knew that when I looked at him, I saw what I could be. He made me want to strive for something greater than me. He wanted to make change and be something and do something impactful, he wasn't content just living for himself, it had to be something bigger.
That was another thing I loved, that no matter what, he was determined to make such a difference that sometimes, that pressure he put on himself swallowed him whole. He was such an effective activist then, spending months working in Flint and raising enough money to install water purifiers in over a thousand homes... the video proceeds going to the same cause.
He was so selfless, so scared for everyone else and so sure he would change something even if he was only one man. I loved that about him; I loved everything about him.
And he was funny in a way that felt aged, that was something that I never really appreciated before but Paul made corny jokes and had facial expressions that made me laugh so hard I couldn't catch my breath. We weren't friends before, we'd never really had a friendship.
So when he started joking around, time flew and the weight dissolved. It was just two people sitting across from each other talking about shit that really didn't matter... and then shit that probably mattered too much.
"I don't think I wanna make art anymore." We were in the middle of talking about weird art that people at his school made. He grumbled over the fact that some people would slap paint on a canvas and call it abstraction and I'd been laughing at the misfortunate look on his face.
That was weird to me, though, that statement and he elaborated when I gave him a confused look. "I've been trying to work on this 3D piece and I can't even settle on a concept."
"What would you do if you didn't?" I humored him, knowing that he'd be back and better soon enough.
Paul was an artist, that was his thing.
But he didn't seem so sure and I started to take him a little seriously. "I don't know." He'd shrugged then, playing with the rings on his fingers and I tried not to feel the resentment that mine wasn't there anymore.
He licked his lips, eyes on his hands and I decided to not let that ruin the mood. "I don't know if I'm good at anything else. My entire life's been art, you know?" That sounded unlikely, he'd done so many things, he had so many talents. "What if this is all that's there for me?"
"It's not."
Paul didn't seem convinced, his nose wrinkling and he pursed his perfect lips in disbelief.
"You're gonna do something big, I know it, you used to know it." Pushing at his arm, I watched the smile light up his face as he shifted to the side dramatically. "You can do anything, Paul, you've done so much already."
"I haven't accomplished anything."
And that was hilarious. "LightofDay?" Did he forget that he had an entire Youtube channel with millions of subscribers, that was more than enough of a legacy. Sure, he hadn't uploaded in a while and the guys were dispersed around the country but that followed him, tat was something huge he'd done and he did it for so many people.
"Bringing awareness to tons of people about things that matter..." He came out online, starting a chain reaction of people posting coming out videos and tagging him in the descriptions. He came out about his assault, validating so many survivors, LightofDay probably saved lives, they did so much good and I was so proud to know them in their prime, at all really.
"You've built an entire platform and used it to benefit others." He didn't look convinced and I didn't know how to make him feel that pride himself.
He was smiling fondly at the memories and I wondered how long it'd been since he'd seen them all. "Yeah but that wasn't just me." He shrugged."It's Lanny and-and Ri and B-"
"And you." He always forgot himself when he made one bad call or had one bad day, he doubted how great he really was and all the amazing things he'd done. "Pablo Martinez-Jones, you've accomplished way more than you give yourself credit for."
Shaking my head, I sat back, knowing that he'd probably have to see it to believe it. "I believe in you." I stated and it was one of the only things I was a hundred percent sure of. Paul was absolutely remarkable, he was enough for me to continue believing in something bigger than me, "and I don't believe in a lot of things."
If people like him existed, I was sure there was some reason to it all, as cliche as it sounded.
Wrapping my fingers around the crucifix that hung from my neck, I smiled to myself.
"Thank you." It was soft but it was there and I knew it meant something to him.
: : :
When the door opened later that day, Andria's loud voice had boomed in through the house, Keenan following. He'd ran through, darting past Paul and me in a dirty soccer uniform, his eyes focused on something in the kitchen. His little voice rang behind him, it calling out a greeting to me.
"Take off your shoes!"
Keenan huffed, yanking his shoes off quickly and trudging over to place them in the closet near the door. When done, he rushed past again.
His mother was still at the door, trying to dislodge her key from the knob, papers and folders stacked high on a box in her hands. Paul had stood instantly, chivalrous as ever, catching the folders that started to slip from the top. I wondered if she was dense enough to not realize she needed to put them down.
"Here, I got you." He'd spoken, placing what he caught on the table near the door and bending down to grab the box she was balancing on her knee. He smiled when she let out a huff, pushing coiled strands of hair from her face, the rest pulled down into a low bun. She smoothed her hand over her skirt, thanking him. "Where do you need these?"
She shook her head, throwing the keys into the bowl on the counter and shuffling forward in her work attire. She grabbed for the folders he'd sat down, motioning to the middle of the living room, her hand moving fast and I tried not to feel guilt at the kind smile she threw me, "right here is fine."
When he'd set them down, he offered me a confused look at my frown. Reaching a hand forward, he introduced himself. "I'm Paul."
"Andria." she spoke, it quieter than before. She shook his hand then, dismissing his help. "You didn't have to do that, hon."
Paul laughed as if that statement was funny and he was standing in front of me, showing me up unintentionally, it stung.
"My mother would never forgive me." He was so kind in that regard, so sweet and I felt it biting me in the back of my throat, anger rising no matter how much I pushed it down. They'd just met and he was already making a good impression.
"I was gonna make dinner soon, um, is salmon okay?" She'd asked, almost embarrassed. "Jason never told me you weren't a big fan of spaghetti, I wouldn't have made it in that case."
That was nice, I couldn't ignore it, shaking my head I offered a smile. "Anything's fine, really." Maybe it was cause she was trying so hard but I hated this conversation. I hated the fact that she could sense my aversion to her and she probably felt uneasy.
She was uncomfortable, I could tell and I didn't know how to change that.
"Okay." Andria nodded, biting her tongue, it poking through her teeth for a second before she raised her brows, eyes diverting to the man beside me, she'd been looking up to meet our eyes. "Are you staying for dinner, hon?"
Maybe that was sweet as well, the fact that she offered and Paul was smiling still, it turning confused when he looked over at me and he gave her an apologetic look. "I wouldn't wanna impose, thank you though."
She looked like she was ready to debate that and honestly, I wanted him to stay but I also wanted this conversation to end.
Forcing a smile, I curled my hand around Paul's wrist, Andria probably sensed my urgency.
I tried to ignore the way touching him made my heart skip a beat.
"Oh, alright." She nodded, stepping back to grab for her piles of work and she reached behind her to tug her hair loose from the hairtie that was holding it back, hands in the roots to shake it out. Maybe she was trying to busy herself because she didn't seem to have any inclination on starting yet. "Well it was great meeting you."
"Come on."
"It was nice meeting you too." Paul called back, as I started up the stairs and he spoke softer before following me, I was sure it was an apology for my behavior, maybe a promise he'd eat dinner with us at some point on a later date because Paul felt an obligation to be loved by everyone that crossed his path.
I was already in my room when he entered, throwing my body back on my bed and he sounded confused. "You don't like her?"
I shrugged, "She's cool."
Shutting the door behind him, he walked forward, it nonchalant and he turned to sit on the edge of the bed. I tried not to think of the possibilities of how the night would turn out because I knew Paul.
And I knew that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't make a move with a kid and a woman in the house, he had too much respect. Maybe we'd talk all night, maybe he'd make some excuse to leave and we would both be forced back into reality.
But he was sitting on my bed still, looking at me.
"But she's not your mom." He spoke, it lingering in the air and I ignored it, pushing up to sit against my headboard. He turned around then, socked-feet curling under him as he crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. It felt like the beginning again and I tried not to let on how good that felt. "How do you feel about it?"
"Fine, I guess." And that felt like a lie, sure I'd gotten over them being together but something in me still held resentment.
Paul must have seen my hesitance. "You know you can talk to me, right, Jules?" That almost made me laugh.
We hadn't talked in months and now all of a sudden he was worried about whether or not I was a fan of my father's girlfriend. "Yeah."
It was silent, I wished I hadn't said anything because now it was awkward. Paul was sitting on the edge of my bed staring at me, trying to be all sentimental and sweet and caring about my personal relationships when he chose Isaiah over me.
And now I was getting better and it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that he could just show up and rehash everything just as it wasn't fair that I couldn't let my father's happiness fucking go and- and it wasn't okay that he showed up here and dug into everything again as if he had any intention to stay.
"Julian-"
It was just like the last time, pretending he cared enough to check in on me when really he just wanted to see how much I still loved him, again. "You know, you-you-you called me drunk when I was finally getting over you-"
"I know..."
"You don't know." And he was still sitting there, so stoic as if he didn't care. "You don't know how fucking easy it was to believe you."
I tried to smile, tried to make sense of everything I was thinking and it was easier, it had been for a few days now. I could go through everything without obsessing over it, without falling victim to a never-ending circle of hating myself and blaming myself and hating myself and blaming myself and-
And I was breathing heavier now, my eyes blurry with unshed tears, my heart pounding and Paul's hand was on my arm.
He was sitting right in front of me, brown eyes on mine and I heard the crack in his voice.
Paul was good at a lot of things, amazing at them actually and it scared me sometimes. It scared me how easily it was for me to trust him again, so quickly, so without fault or doubt.
And his voice cracked before he spoke, he breathed out quickly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Julian... I know that you're not okay, okay? I know that..." he smiled, it quick and he bit his bottom lip slightly.
Paul only did that when he was nervous, when he didn't think he was in control of the situation. I loved those moments with him, I could always tell what he was thinking then and that was never easy. "I've always cared about you, you know that."
I hated how well he could read through me, see everything. "And I know you're not okay... and neither am I so let's just put down the fucking armor for once and be honest with each other."
And he was straight forward, he was looking at me and he wasn't tiptoeing, he wasn't asking me how I was because he had an AA chip he kept pulling in and out of his pocket as if to remind himself.
Maybe unloading my trauma on his was cruel, maybe it wasn't, but he was asking and he wasn't trying to fix it for me, that was a start.
"It feels like he's redoing everything."
Paul already could tell something was off and maybe if I talked to him about it, he would have some sage advice. He wouldn't judge me because he wasn't being paid to, and he had no personal connection to the situation, Jade was biased.
"What do you mean?"
I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling so I just talked, let the words form themselves and I didn't allow myself to think them over. "Her, her son plays soccer, it just-it feels like..."
"Like he's replacing you."
"That's not what I mean." It made sense though, my dislike of the new additions because they were similar to the old ones. Keenan did feel like a do-over of me and he'd turn out right this time and maybe Andria was the perfect mom and I was envious. "I don't want to mean that."
It was selfish, that proved everyone right about me. If that was how I felt, that meant I didn't want my Dad to be happy because I was jealous of it and wouldn't that make me a bad son? And a bad person, right? I didn't want to be a bad person.
Paul didn't seem to mind it though, didn't give me any advice, he just nodded. "I know you don't." And that was enough.
That was another thing, he was great to talk to, he was always a good listener.
"I just-I hate feeling like I messed up their marriage and-and now he's getting remarried and he didn't even really introduce us and it just-it feels like I-" Sucking in a sharp breath, I tried to fight emotions building, I was gonna get through a sentence without sobbing like a fucking child, "like I fucked up... too much this time."
Curling my arms around myself, I kept my eyes on my knees, them so close to my chest and I said something that I didn't really want to admit out loud.
"I miss my mom, Paul."
That was probably obvious, I knew but finally saying it and having someone there who I knew would try their best to understand, it was a different feeling. It was a calming feeling, I didn't feel crazy.
He never made me feel crazy for having feelings, even if they seemed irrational.
How could I miss this woman? Jade was right, she used God and church to make me hate myself but could I really fault her for that? It was a pure effort at first, I was sure, clouded by judgement but maybe she thought she was helping me.
You don't just decide to hate the people you once loved, there was a change in the way she saw me and I didn't cut her any slack. Maybe I needed to be the forgiving one.
"Maybe you should reach out."
And hearing it from someone else made it real. Ben had told me the same thing, what if it was a good idea? "What if she still hates me?" What if she doesn't?
Paul looked stumped for a second, like he was unsure of that answer himself and it was a very real possibility. She could've damned me, could've spit in my face, screamed at me. There were real ways for her to hurt me, still, I still loved her.
"Well, you've gotta be strong enough to know that no matter what she says, it doesn't matter, you know?"
When I didn't respond, Paul tried a different approach. "Do you wish you were straight?"
Despite how much shit coming out had gotten me into, I couldn't imagine a time that I'd ever felt happier than the first time I kissed him in public. I couldn't think of anything more liberating than knowing what I wanted and going for it no matter what persecution I might've faced.
I'd never felt more free so I shook my head. "No."
He smiled over at me, wise as ever and his brows raised as if to tell me that I'd answered my own question. "Then nothing she can say will take that away from you."
: : :
I wasn't sure how long he planned on staying but honestly, I didn't want to mention it in fear that it would make him leave. He was sketching in the same sketchbook that had been sitting on my desk since I left for college and I'd been thinking. It was late, my thoughts consuming me and we were in a comfortable silence.
Or it was probably comfortable for him, I was stuck in limbo in the same position I'd been in for hours.
Maybe he wanted me to push him away, he was avoiding home, that much I could conclude and I didn't know how to bring up the conversation about that.
I didn't know what to say, I wasn't that close to my grandparents so I couldn't really relate but my brain was racing a mile a minute and he was spinning in my desk chair, still sketching. I didn't wanna bug him.
"Where are you?" His voice was gentle, pulling me softly out of the reverie I'd been stuck in. He'd been looking up at me, small smile on his face and his hand was still moving as if he were sketching me.
"Here."
"You're not." And that much was obvious, my voice came out a croak and I could feel the pressure and sadness boiling again, building up so much, so suddenly and yanking me down. "What's up?"
He'd placed the book to the side and I was biting on my lip, fighting an internal war and losing. I could never be good enough, could never fully me enough for anyone, I wasn't going to be happy.
I would never be happy.
I was such a fucking burden, my ex boyfriend was here again, holding me together and I instead of talking to him, I'd been thinking about all the shit that went wrong in my life. I was tired and the pills still weren't taking full effect.
He had obligations and a life and things to be focused on and instead he was here, he was probably just here because I unloaded on him and he felt too uncomfortable to leave.
The happiness I was feeling before was fading over time, my eyes stinging with unshed tears and I tried to make sense of the pain that spread within me. It started in my chest, compressing against my skin, pushing my ribcage down and sitting on it, depression then spread through me like it was in my veins.
It wrapped around my neck, constricting my airways and I was gasping out breath, telling myself that panicking would do nothing.
Paul's presence shocked me back before it got too far and I calmed down, no real trigger holding me. I sat there, feeling statuesque, my eyes wide and I tried to explain the feeling of my adrenaline pumping.
It was bone chilling. "I'm scared."
"Me too." I didn't know what he had to be scared of but I nodded anyways, hoping me relating would do some good.
My eyes felt heavy, my lips parted and I was sure I looked lost, biting down on my sleeve, I tried to distract myself and Paul had sat down beside me.
My breathing started to rush, it turning into pants, my heart rate accelerating and it was starting to feel like I was on the top of a rollercoaster and I was terrified of heights. I felt hands begin to numb, trembling with gentle tremors and I tucked them into my sweater, shoving my head into my knees to keep calm.
I was okay, I was okay.
"You're right." That was all I had for him. "I h-haven't been okay."
He didn't touch me, just sat there and I was thankful for it. He just nodded, tone understanding and I tried to keep myself stable. These periodical dips came too frequently now, when I was so preoccupied all day, I'd somehow convinced myself it wouldn't happen with him here but I was so wrong. "You didn't seem okay the last time I saw you."
He shrugged, looking down but he was still chewing his bottom lip. "I should've said something but I didn't think it was my place."
Listening to him speak, I tried to pay attention to his breathing, tried to match it. I was shaking fully now, my entire body wracking with shivers and Paul was scooting closer.
He was right next to me now, thigh touching mine and his shoulder pressed against mine and she sat still. He sat there and he stayed silent, an indication that I was supposed to talk. When something was hitting me this hard, my previous therapists always encouraged me to talk about how I felt as I was feeling it.
It's okay to break down, it's okay to talk to people that you trust. You are not a burden to anyone, you are not a liability or a burden, Julian.
"Sometimes I-I just- I g-g-get into these lows and they... l-last longer-" Paying attention to how erratic it sounded, I swallowed, my mouth cottony and I raised my head, sucking in a breath and blowing it out through stuttering lips. "And I always feel like shit- and-and like I'm... m-m-messing things up and- why, why do I feel like this?"
It's okay to need time as long as you let someone be there for you.
I was looking over at Paul now and sometimes it became harder to remind myself. All the thoughts swirling around in my head were starting to press against my skull, my temple throbbing with a building, blinding headache.
He wrapped an arm around me, hesitating at first before he pulled me closer and I fell in line, hoping he'd relax enough for me to find comfort.
"Why do I h-have to feel... like this?" I tried, holding in that breath for a few seconds, blinking back tears that had already fallen. My heart wasn't racing, I wasn't panicking, my words were stuttered and I wasn't going to rush myself.
I blew out a long breath, pressing my forehead into his shoulder, tear streaks on my cheeks wetting the fabric. I didn't even realize I'd been crying.
"All the time..." It's never going to end. "For the rest of my fucking life, Paul, I-I'm just gonna keep fucking up and- and I'm just gonna keep feeling so fucking shitty and I'm hooked on these damn meds-"
It's never going to end. Dr. Thorpe made sure to remind me that it gets easier to handle over time. She mentioned that there might be one day where I wouldn't need the medication, that there's hope but it was hard to find that comforting. This feeling never went away and I knew it would be with me, in varying degrees, until I died.
"Come here."
His arm was around me, pulling me further into his body and I tried to stretch my legs out, to make it more friendly than it was.
"Paul-" please don't do this if you don't mean it. Don't be intimate with me if you don't mean it.
"Yeah?"
It was silent, my breathing slowing to match his. I tried not to take this to heart but it really was too late when he entered my house. I wasn't going to able to let it go when he was done entertaining it, "what happens tomorrow?"
"I don't know." He'd admitted, so soft I could hear the fear in his voice as well, it unsure in every way and I tried to find some kind of comfort in that. We both made this mistake and we both would have to deal with the consequences this time. "But what I do know is that you're- You're gonna be okay..."
A kiss was pressed to my temple, his hand curling around to hold me there, twining through my hair and massaging my scalp soothingly. I buried my face into his chest, breathing him in. He knew exactly how to calm me. "Everything's so hard, Paul."
"I know."
And I heard the shake in his breath before he spoke. Being so close to hear his heartbeats, my lips pressed against his shirt, right over his heart. I pulled back shortly, watched his eyes blink closed slowly... and then quickly. He was pacing himself, trying to hold back when the tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his flushed cheek. "I love you." It was a whisper, a jagged, shaken whisper as if it took everything in him.
And he was brave, braver than I'd ever expected him to be. With a voice that betrayed him and close enough that I could hear every little inconsistency, every waver in his voice, he spoke. He spoke as if he weren't crying, as if whatever we decided in the morning didn't matter.
All that mattered was us right now, he took the chance like he'd never get it again. "I-I don't know if that's okay... for me to say, the lines are a bit blurry r-right now, but I love you." I should've been mad, should've pushed him away because that's what he did to me.
I should've been spiteful but he was caressing me, rubbing soft circles on my arm and at that, I felt almost lightheaded. "And so do a lot of people and I-I wanna keep loving you..." it felt like a dream, "and I need you to keep trying because I'm not gonna stop until you do. And I can't see myself ever stopping."
He spoke softly, it breaking halfway through and I could hear how scared he was. He was terrified, it laced in his words, his heart beating faster. "I-it would kill me to lose you, Jules, do you realize that?"
I'm stronger because of you.
Whatever this was, it was good for me, it was good for us and I cuddled closer into his chest. Burying myself there, I counted his heartbeats, trying to succumb to sleep doused in the fear that he wouldn't be there when I woke up.
: : :
"How ya feelin?" He was back home, I could hear it when he'd let himself in, the apartment being so small. Still, I didn't feel the urge to get up, the bed sucking me in too deep. Paul had that same cheery voice he'd had when he left, it turning nauseating.
He'd leant over my body, kissing at my cheek as if it would provoke some soft of reaction. Normally, I would turn in excitement, just the sight of him would make my heart burst in joy but depression always sucked every semblance of happiness away. I laid there stoic, eyes concentrated on the wall in front of me.
There was a hollowness that overcame me when I stopped my medication. At first, I would feel fine, it would be the same as any other day and that convinced me to continue.
I convinced myself I didn't need it, that I felt the same without it so there was no real reason to take a pill everyday. It would go on like that for a few days, a sense of happiness but really, it was the absence of pain. I wasn't used to happiness, wasn't used to complete and utter bliss so when I didn't feel shitty, I chalked it up to a good day.
And that was dangerous, it was, when I stopped taking my meds. I didn't feel terrible at first and it pushed me to stop taking them, it did that until I was a shell of myself, something would set me off and I'd start to feel that sadness deep and rising.
And then there was anger, there was a snap, this time there wasn't. Paul noticed I was off my medication after I started acting different. He was aware of my pulling away before I turned violent, counting my pills when I lied about taking them and he threatened to tell my father.
He never really knew how to handle moments like that but he tried his best. I only hoped that the next time I fell off, he wouldn't have to be the one to put me back together.
I'd been laying there for days now, I was sure but I couldn't tell how many. I couldn't tell how long I'd been rebooting but I was trying to figure out what instances would bring me happiness.
It had changed during some point, I'd been there so long that everything started to blend together. I didn't remember how long Paul was gone but I knew he had work, that meant I'd been laying there for at least six hours, awake.
My boyfriend was kissing my shoulder now, paused there as if I'd react. His voice was a gentle hum and I tried to feel the same warmth it normally brought."Hm, better?"
I nodded, biting my tongue to keep from shifting away. He was resting his chin on my arm now, drawing small circles on the side of my hip and he pressed a kiss into my blanket covered arm.
"Wanna take a bath?" He'd asked when I didn't respond verbally. Pushing away, he turned and I heard rustling. "I bought some rose and I got the shampoo you like."
That was sweet, so sweet I had to respond. "Thanks," I'd mumbled out and that encouraged him, it always did. When I said something after hours of being by myself, in myself, even though my voice was gritty and I still wasn't looking at him, Paul would take it as progress.
And he was standing, I could hear him walking away but his voice called back to me."Are you hungry? Would you like to eat first?" No. I wasn't hungry, I hadn't been hungry in a while.
I didn't reply, didn't really feel any inclination to then and it was silent.
It was silent until Paul continued."We can eat after, I think I wanna make salmon for dinner, maybe a side salad." He was speaking and it was far away now, his voice carrying through the house. I buried myself further into the burrow I'd made.
I just wanted him to leave me alone but I hadn't showered in days and I was sure he'd start to care about it. He wouldn't hold me at night if I smelled disgusting and I did, I probably did.
"Come on." He'd spoken when he'd gotten back to the room, tugging the covers off of my face and he pressed a kiss to my temple. He was leaning over me, arm braced on my side and he laid there for a little.
His head rested on his own arm, his fingers coming up to press into my hair, I was sure it was extremely oily. "Ready?"
He was still talking, saying sparse sentences that I didn't pay much mind to, his lips were on my arm now when he'd pulled the comforter further down. He kissed my skin, it warm against the chill of my bones and I was curled up, staring at the wall.
He pressed another gentle kiss to my hand, I'd been hugging myself. Tugging my hand into his then, he went to kiss the pads of my fingers, words whispering out like a small prayer. I always exhausted him. "Come on, Angel."
: : :
I woke to a ringing, it soft and the sound of something vibrating on a hard surface. Trying to keep my eyes screwed shut, my first instinct was to ignore it. I could still feel his arm around my waist, his other one under my fingertips and I was laying my head on his bicep.
My heart was beating now, picking up speed at the proximity, he wasn't spooning me when I'd fallen asleep and he wasn't moving, my skin was warm everywhere.
One good thing that I never failed to remember would be how well we slept together. Yeah, we didn't sleep together, he hadn't even kissed me but something about the way he felt beside me was an instant sedative. We were comfortable and he was holding me, he'd always been good at that.
I could feel my shirt sticking to me, it warm between us and under the covers, normally I couldn't fall asleep with so many clothes on. I hadn't slept well in months though, not a full night's rest and even if this wasn't much, I could've slept through the apocalypse at that point.
Something about how his breath came out in soft pants, warm air that brushed across my neck, caused my heart to race. Paul's lips rested right behind my ear, a place he'd always kiss when holding me like this, his nose was nestled in my hair, arm tightening around my waist. He was sound asleep and I tried to relax again, tried not to allude to being awake because I wanted this moment to last for as long as it could.
His smell alone drove me crazy and when he was holding me like this, I was struggling to remember a time when he didn't. I
Paul's chest was hard, he was stirring now and I reached over to click off my alarm. I could feel him rubbing a small pattern on the exposed skin of my stomach, lifting his head to kiss on my clothes shoulder. We were still in the clothes we'd been wearing and I didn't even mind how uncomfortable it was to lay here in jeans because he was here.
And it was innocent and sweet and familiar and he was breathing softly onto the skin of my neck. I could feel when he fully came to, the previous sound succeeding in waking him and I reveled in the few seconds I had left, pushing a finger over the lines of his map tattoo and placing a soft kiss there.
Paul pulled me closer, burying his face into my shoulder and kissing my shirt. I knew what these meant, these movements, these moments were him letting me know that no matter what happened, we were okay.
And that was enough.
"Morning."
His voice was groggy and his eyes were still closed when I turned around to look at him, trying not to move too much. He was smiling softly before he blinked his eyes open, brown ones full of sleep yet still enticing.
This time my phone decided to ring, as if the alarms I hadn't left in weren't enough to ruin the mood.
Taking the time to rake my fingers over the stubble on his chin, I admired the bone structure underneath, he'd gotten so gorgeous. Long lashes fanned deep brown eyes, a tinge of pink blended across his nose, a few freckles dusting there.
Paul had the cutest nose, even though he never failed to mention how bulbous he thought it was. It fit his face though, it was round on the tip and slightly perfect.
Everything about him was slightly perfect if-not perfect and his lips were slightly swollen, they always were when he woke up, Paul had a thing for biting his lips when he slept. I wasn't sure what he was so nervous about but his arm was still on my waist and I considered that a good sign. Paul sighed, my hand resting in between his jaw and the pillow. I watched his curls pressed into the fabric and he nuzzled into my hand.
Turning his head for a second, he kissed my palm and this was way too intimate for where we were. I found myself taking him in, as much as I could, eyes on the expanse of his chest left exposed, trailing up his tan skin to his plush lips.
He could see me staring and I didn't care.
"Your phone's ringing." It was subtle teasing, I could tell by the way I could feel his fingers on my scalp, massaging the back of my head. It was something he'd do to relax me and it felt like he didn't want this to end just as much as I didn't.
"Oh."
His other hand was on my lower back, pulling away yet still touching my skin as it slid over my hip. It wasn't sexual, that was obvious but it still made a shiver run up my spine and I wanted to kiss him.
I did, I wanted to kiss him so bad. And we were in my bed, my legs tucked under the covers, maybe he'd sensed I was cold in my sleep and that's why he was holding me then but he still made no move to leave.
And I wasn't going to move until he did, he was still looking at me and I was biting my lip now, trying not to allude to how bad I wanted him because I knew nothing good could come out of it.
"You gonna check it?"
No. "I don't want to."
I was fighting a smile when Paul's hand squeezed my waist now, gentle and confirming. "I'm not going anywhere."
Trying to find comfort in that, I nodded, turning over to reach of my phone. I sat up then, pushing a hand through my hair, trying to see how far I could move from him before he let go.
Looking at the face of my phone, my eyes widened a bit, a few text messages were on the screen, one missed call.
Aside from Ben and Andy's texts, there were two from Sullivan Clemons.
Hey! It read, a second one sent a minute after.
Sorry if you're trying to blow me off, I just wanted to let you know that if you're still interested... it's completely up to you but I'd like to see you again.
I found it kind of weird that I could almost read the text in his voice and I knew he wrote he that way on purpose. Fighting a smile, I read it again.
"That him?"
Paul was behind me, his voice ringing out and I wasn't sure what his tone was. I wasn't sure if he were jealous or not but he was sitting up too and the moment was over. Fuck, I almost forgot where I was.
"I'm sorry."
Turning to look at him, I could see the small smile he offered, looking down. He closed his eyes, "Don't be."
I love you. I wanna keep loving you.
"I miss you." And he knew that that was an offer, that I wasn't that into Sullivan and I could break away if he just asked. All he had to do was ask. We could work things out if he just asked.
He ignored me, still looking down and his voice cracked on the end. Paul tucked his lips into his mouth, blinking as he looked up and he didn't meet my eyes. "Do you like him?"
Not enough... I'll stop talking to him if you ask me to. "It's new." It was one date. Looking down, I read the message once more. "I-I thought it was over, honestly."
He nodded, looking at me finally and he offered a small smile again. I'm not gonna be mad.
I watched him brush a hand under his eye, looking up with a grimace and I could tell that he didn't want me to see it. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
"I'm happy for you." But his voice was soft and he still wouldn't look at me, he rubbed the back of his neck and it was awkward now. "Promise."
I didn't want Sullivan though, I didn't want Paul to be happy for me, I wanted him to want to be with me. "I love you too."
I didn't mean to say it.
He looked lost for words, biting his bottom lip and he was looking at me now. And it was silent, both of us staring at each other. I didn't mean to say it but now that I did, it hung in the air. Frozen, I sat there and I tried to figure out his reaction to it.
But he said he loved me, he said that he wanted to keep loving me. Paul loves me and I love him.
And he was avoiding my gaze now, mouth opening every so often but closing after a few silent seconds. He did this a few times before settling with a, "Julian..." it drawn out and somber.
Hesitantly, I shifted closer, trying to see how far I could get before he pushed me away. Paul sighed but didn't move and I reached forward, gaining confidence. Brushing a hand over his stubble, I smiled at the way his breath hitched. "I love you, Pablo."
He was leaning into my hand now, again, biting his bottom lip and the tension was back again. Everything around had dissipated, and I watched the way he watched my lips, "kiss me."
I watched him blink, it long, sucking in a long breath and he was looking directly at me when he opened his eyes.
He was serious, that much was obvious, hand over mine and I tried not to be disappointed when he pulled it away. "I'm not gonna be the guy you cheat with."
And I knew that would be something sooner than later but nothing in this situation we found ourselves in was in good conscious. He stayed and he held me and I let it happen, he kissed my skin intimately and told me he loved me and now I was forgetting all my previous reservations.
Fuck letting him go. "We're not together." Something about that rubbed Paul the wrong way cause he was scoffing, letting go of my hand now and he shook his head.
"You do see how ironic that is, right?"
"You don't want to?" I challenged after a second. "Cause I still... think about you all the time." I wore your jacket on a date with him. Paul wasn't moving away, I could see the look in his eyes when I moved a little closer. I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen, maybe I wanted him to show some sign of wanting this to continue.
I wanted him to tell me that he wanted me, or at least tell me that he didn't because we weren't together yet he kept injecting himself back into my life. He kept telling me that he loved me and coming back just to leave again.
Over and over and over again. "Tell me you don't."
He didn't say anything then, only rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe I didn't give him enough time because my next statement caught him completely off guard.
"I wanna get back together."
I'd never been so sure of something like that. He still cared about me, he still loved me and I'd been my happiest with him. And we were better now, we were able to talk about these things and we had enough time to remember where we belonged.
I'd never hurt him again.
Still, he shook his head, there was a sad smile on his full lips. "No you don't."
What? "Paul-"
His voice was unwavering and he always felt the need to read me even when it wasn't necessary. "You want something familiar because everything's new, something that makes you feel good cause you're goin' through a lot-"
"You're wrong." I wanted to be with him because we were good together, because he was the only person I fully trusted, with everything. Paul and I were supposed to be together, everything else was just collateral damage.
Still, he looked unconvinced.
"You wanna do long distance again?" His words held a knowing, like everything I'd proposed made absolutely no sense but it did. I was happy with him, we were good together. "Wanna go back to missing each other, ignoring each other when we're having bad days? Cause that's what it'll be."
"Look, I know that things are complicated, okay? I do but I'm better now." I tried. "I am-I'm better, I'm-I'm on new meds, baby. I'm transferring back a-and we can-we can fix this."
I couldn't decipher the look he'd given me then, all I could do was talk, ramble on in hopes that he would accept it. "We just needed some, some space, you know? We needed some space and-"
"No, Jules."
But... "We both know how this is gonna end. We're gonna get back together eventually, we always do." No matter what, we always came back to each other. He said it himself that we worked that way. "And-and it's because we love each other, we're us." I was holding his hand now, trying to get him to look at me. "We both know that. Tell me that that's not what you want."
And when he did, he offered a sad smile, I could tell there was an objection, a rejection coming eventually. "I can't."
"You stayed." Why the hell did he keep playing with me like this? Like he didn't care how it would affect me. Our relationship always felt like me waiting for him to decide because I was always all in. "You-you tell me that you love me and we make all these promises and now you..." he was slipping from my hold and my heart sunk.
"You-you said you forgave me."
"I did." No you don't, if you forgave me, you wouldn't be hesitant. "I do forgive you, for everything."
Paul used to be so sure of us, he used to feel the same and now he was-he was pulling away and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he came in, stayed with me, and he had the nerve to say that what? That it wasn't supposed to be perceived in that way?
"You said you missed me." And he was just sitting there with that confused and worried look on his face like he hadn't kissed me and held me and stayed. He stayed. "Y-you said you loved me."
Maybe he thought I was that pathetic that I needed him to stay. He only stayed cause he was afraid that I'd fall apart and he'd be at fault for bringing it all up again.
"...Angel-"
No. He was reaching for me now, probably realizing that I was so fucking fragile and he went to hold my hands. "Get off me." I was so fucking pathetic, begging him to love me again. Paul didn't love me, he couldn't. He was fucking with me still and I let him and I really convinced myself that he was telling the truth. "You don't love me-"
You never did. "Julian."
Was that all he had to say? "No! Fuck you, Paul." And I was cursing in his face, something I knew he hated but I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want anymore apologies. "You lied to me. Why would you lie to me about that?" Why the fuck would you say you loved someone when you didn't?
Paul laughed then, actually let out a breathy chuckle that made me feel so stupid. It always made me feel like a fucking child.
"And now you're laughing at me-"
And it turned into a heavy sigh, him twining his fingers with mine and he wasn't looking at me then. He was looking down at my shaking hands. "You really have the nerve to say that I don't love you."
He looked almost angry then, but it was hidden. Tilting his head to the side, his free hand was shaky when he scratched the back of his neck and he didn't want to look at me. Avoiding my gaze, he forced a smile that didn't last and he was blinking up towards the ceiling. "After everything we've been through, you still..."
"We were together for two years, Julian." The incredulous look he'd given me then was so shocking. I didn't expect the hurt in his voice. "I love you so much, that's something that you should just know by now."
All of a sudden, he seemed upset, his voice cracking. He licked his soft lips, eyes finally meeting mine and he had tears in them. "I want you. I want to kiss you, so fucking badly." That little laugh he did before crying was what shocked me. He sat there and he was smiling at me, shutting his eyes and blinking long as if to hold back his tears.
"And I wanna... say yes-" Paul was breathing out a shaky breath. "And I wanna be with you, I really do. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life, Julian." His voice was forceful even if it wavered. I always envied that about him, that he could command a room with only a few words and some confidence.
He kept biting his lip, kept blinking back tears and sucking in short breaths and Paul was always so honest in the way he loved me, he always had been.
"But I can't because it's-it's not a good idea and I know that. I'm not the person you need me to be right now. I love you too much to make you go through that again."
"And I know I-I make it seem like... I don't care but I do." He was still looking at me, all serious and so perfect, he was buttoning up his shirt and fixing the collar and straightening the necklace there. He didn't wanna look at me then. "I care, I just- I can't... give you what you need right now, Angel."
"I'm not someone who needs to be taken care of, Paul, I never asked you to-"
"That's not what I'm saying." This had to be the first time he'd been so clear and I could hear everything. Paul only revealed his own emotions when he was so full of them it overcame him and something about his words felt like he'd been pushed too far.
He was so sad, so sure that he wasn't enough or wouldn't be enough and I didn't know what to respond. Exhaustion was in his smile, brown eyes dull and I could tell that he wasn't okay. And I didn't know what to do.
"Then what are you saying?"
"I have a lot of crap to sort out and-" he cut himself off, pausing and his words were more concise when he spoke again.
Deflecting, he focused back on me. "You need to figure out who you are without being in a relationship, Jules."
I let that resonate, tried to let him collect his thoughts because that was something I never did before. And I was trying to be better, trying to listen to him especially because all of our problems started by not listening.
And not trying. "I-I think it's easy to forget that... that we're people without each other, and it's because we've been together for so long through-through so much, you know? And... and..."
That was bullshit but he continued as if realizing how that sounded. "Th-there are things that we have to go through without each other, and you-" it seemed like a cheap shot. "You need to take care of yourself."
"That's rich coming from a drunk." It left my mouth before I could stop it and all my lingering resentment was brought to the surface. Almost instantly, I realized what I'd said and I tried to take it back. "...God, fuck, I'm sorry-"
"I know."
He wasn't angry though, he didn't even seem shocked and I tried not to take it to heart. Was I always that nasty to him?
"Paul... I didn't- I didn't meant that..." I'm sorry.
"You did." He shrugged, squeezing my hand in his in a sign of understanding. Paul bit his lip then, as if he was nervous... like he wanted to say the right thing and didn't quite know how, "and it's okay."
"It's not."
"... Baby." Just that word leaving his mouth tied my stomach in knots again. "Listen to me, okay?"
But even if he was hesitant, his words were still so articulate and they made sense, at least to him.
Still, he continued. "You had this-this huge secret your entire life, yeah?" Paul was looking for a response but he didn't wait when I didn't give him one. "And because of that, you said yourself that you always did everything for Calum, and everything for your mom, and everything to make sure that people didn't know."
I tried not to interrupt, still embarrassed of what I said and he was smiling then, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. "I think you've been trying to make me happy for years and y-you need to focus on yourself, babe."
I could say the same for you.
"We moved very, very quickly, okay? Y-your mental health got bad, Jules and I didn't do enough to make sure you were okay and that's my fault." He blamed himself and the way he spoke after brought tears to my eyes.
"And-and you're about to be twenty, Angel, you need some time to figure out who Jules is and what makes him happy because this is supposed to be the best time of your life."
It sounded reminiscent almost, like he was talking about himself. Paul wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but I didn't realize until now and maybe he was right. Maybe I wasn't fine enough to be with him.
"It can't be your life if-if you don't know who you are, Jules."
And I couldn't give him what he needed.
But still, "I wanna be there for you." Even if he didn't want me, I could still be there for him because he was going through a lot and for me to disappear because he wasn't stable enough to be my boyfriend again, it would prove everyone right.
That I was selfish, that I didn't care about anyone but myself. It would prove my own thoughts right. But I cared about Paul, I loved him, and I wanted him to stop looking so fucking sad.
He didn't respond and I could tell he was hesitant and that hurt.
My eyes stung, lips quivering, tears rolled down my cheeks again and I knew I couldn't change his mind.
"I don't wanna lose you again."
We were both crying now, Paul's hand on my cheek. He was staring at me and there was finally a resolution. I could feel it in my chest, in the way he touched me, this was enough for now because it made him happy.
I wasn't thrilled but I was content, his fingertips gently stroking against my skin, it warm and a calloused thumb brushed under my eye. I watched as he bit his lip, tugging at the skin and he smiled when I reached forward to wipe away fallen tears.
"You're not gonna lose me and I'm sorry for making you feel like it's everything or nothing, I shouldn't have ended it like that." He was staring at me now, sitting face to face and I hated how it felt like a goodbye. "I handled it so wrong."
And his skin was flushed, face blotchy, eyes red and lips swollen from his own nervous biting. He still looked so beautiful.
"I-I want you in my life, I do, and I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't."
My hands rested over his now, holding him there, knowing that if I embraced him, I wouldn't want to let go. He wanted me to let go.
And his words were soft. "I know it's not what you wanna hear but we can be friends. At least for now, okay?" Paul was smiling, leant forward and I wanted to kiss him but I wouldn't. I would let him make his moves.
He pulled his hands off my face, raking one through my hair to push it back into place, and he lingered when his hand got to the back of my head. And he cradled my neck for a second, pulling away way too slowly but not slow enough. "You trust me?"
"Of course I do." I trusted him with my life.
"Then trust me." He lingered, his hand still on my shoulder, other with mine still held. Paul reached up, thumb pressing into my neck again, massaging that spot softly. He sighed, it comforting and familiar and content.
"When we're better, we'll be better."
A/N:
I tried not to make this too poetic because sometimes I really do make Paul talk like a 40 year old English professor who somehow loves his job.
Updated: Thursday, October 10th.
Was this what you expected?