The sound of someone banging their fist on my door made me roll out of bed. I fell to the carpeted floor with a loud thump. I groaned, rolling to my side as I squinted into the small space that was my room. The banging at the door continued, making me groan as I shut my eyes and massaged the area of my head that had made contact with the floor.
The person kept knocking, and with every bang, I winced as a wave of pain in the form of a throbbing headache hit me.
"Who's that?" I asked, swallowing a ball of my spit to soothe my throat afterward. My voice was hoarse from all the crying. My throat felt like sandpaper. The knocking continued, and I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from the floor, taking a while to get my balance before leaving my room and heading for my apartment's door.
What time is it? I wondered as I walked past the living room. The glimpse of the clock I had made me assume it was sometime in the afternoon. I've lost track of time. The past few days have more or less been none existent for me. I woke up, missed work, eat scraps from the fridge, and ignored Wayne's texts and calls as I thought to myself and cried in my bed.
"I'm coming," I yelled and hurried my steps when the knocking became louder. I stumbled a bit because of this. I just didn't have much balance left. Wine and too much sleep weren't something you should mix together often, and I've done that every day for the past week. It took a few tries, but I was able to get the door open. A frown immediately got engraved on my face when I noticed who it was. My jaw hung low as I tried to figure out what Edward was doing at my door.
"Hey," he said with a little smile even though I wasn't giving him the friendliest of expressions.
"Hey," I said in reply, watching as the man's brows shot up. He must have heard the hoarseness in my voice.
"Wayne came over last night," he said, looking down at his feet. I shrugged, letting out a small sigh. I wondered what he wanted me to do with the information that Wayne came over last night. So? He came, and I didn't open — end of the story.
"Are you okay?" he asked, discarding the initial topic of discussion when I didn't say anything in response. He looked back at me, his brown eyes piercing my tired blue ones. I looked away from him, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"Are you?" he asked again, making me look at him again. He was giving me an intense look, and I didn't know how to react, so I just hugged myself as I willed myself not to break down in front of him. I've had a shit day — a shit week.
"I don't want to talk about it," I slurred, reaching up to hold on to my throbbing head. Gosh, go away. I thought, trying to push Edward away from the door frame so that I could shut the door. I couldn't. I was too weak, and Edward kept the door open with ease by wedging his foot in the doorway. I let out a frustrated groan, turning to walk away and leaving my apartment open as it was, but I stumbled, almost falling face-first to on the wooden floor. Edward caught me, pulling me to himself. Things were quiet for a while, then I started to sob. Everything hurt. My head, my throat, my heart — everything.
I couldn't really make out anything Edward was saying to me then. His voice sounded disjointed, and I think it was then I just went blank. There was a gap in my memory between that moment and me lying down on the long sofa in my apartment.
I blinked, staring up at the ceiling. My head didn't hurt as much as before, but the area around my eyes felt itchy and irritated from how much crying I've been doing. I turned my head towards the living room door when I heard it creak open. It always did that. I made a note to oil it before, but I forgot. I watched as Edward slipped into the room with a cup of water and a pack of what I noticed were sore throat lozenges after squinting hard enough to focus on his moving figure.
"Hey," he muttered, walking over to the sofa I was lying on before sitting at the edge and making the cushion sink in with the added weight. Feeling weird, I sat up too. "I had you take painkillers before letting you rest for a bit." I stared at the hands he was stretching out to me with a mix of annoyance and gratefulness. I took the glass of water from him, drinking everything before taking the tablets he handed to me after he took them out of their pack. I licked them, letting them glide on the surface of my tongue as I rested my back on the sofa's headrest and held on to the empty glass. The room was silent — too silent, and it didn't seem like Edward was going to make any comments.
It was starting to make me uncomfortable.
"Edward."
"Hmm?" He turned his full attention to me, turning his head to the side and giving me one of his intense gazes. I looked down at my feet as the grip I had on the glass cup tightened as my knuckles turned white from the pressure. I should relax. I might break the glass.
Stop looking at me like I didn't end our affairs in a shitty way. I wanted to say what was on my mind. I really did., but the words were lodged somewhere in my throat and couldn't come out. I sighed instead, pushing my hair away from my face as I tried to arrange my thoughts.
Logical. They had to sound logical.
I didn't look very logical or emotionally stable in my pajama trousers and sweater that was probably contributing to the sweat bullets my chest was creating.
"Don't you hate me?" I asked, looking back at him. Edward was giving me a small frown now. It was like he was confused by the question. I nibbled on my bottom lip, letting the tip of my fingers drum a beat on the glass' sides.
"Don't you hate me for treating you the way I have?" I asked, looking away from him again, staring at my feet. My toes must be feeling flushed from all the attention I've been giving them. "Why are you being nice to me?" I asked in an almost inaudible whisper. Edward heard me. He scooted a bit closer to me, stopping just inches away so that our thighs wouldn't touch.
"I really don't know. I guess we're all just stupid when we're in love," he answered.
In love, huh. I thought, licking my lips. Maybe it was the situation that was dry and tense, or maybe my throat just hurt and wasn't letting me breathe properly.
"Can I have some water?" I asked after a while. Edward got up immediately to take the glass I had in my hands.
"I'll be back in a second," he said before leaving the room.
━━━━━━━━
Edward left my apartment with some hesitance after I assured him I was okay. I spent the rest of the day trying to be productive. I cleaned up, took a shower, and called my work to apologize for being absent for the past week. I was just checking if I still and the job, and thankfully I did.
That's the thing, dealing with Wayne had me depressed, dysfunctional and ill. Was he worth keeping in contact with? If we're being honest, he's literal poison I'm ingesting.
I looked down at my bed when my phone's screen lit up and was followed by the device buzzing and ringing. I let out a sigh, folding the pair of trousers I had in my hands before reaching down to pick up my phone.
Wayne.
I almost tossed the phone back on my bed, but for some reason, I didn't. I just stared at the phone as it rang.
Should I block him?
No, I shouldn't do that.
I ended up picking the call. I stayed silent, listening to the light breathing that was Wayne's from the other side.
"You picked up."
"Yeah..." I trailed in a low tone as I took a seat on my bed. I picked at the lint of the trousers I'd changed int after my shower, waiting for Wayne to continue talking. My head didn't hurt anymore, but I was so mentally drained that I couldn't raise my voice to be audible.
"What's going on? Things were going so well—"
"Wayne, I don't think I can do this anymore," I said, cutting him off. He went quiet on the other end. It seemed like I had said something he had not expected me to.
"Wayne?" I called, a bit worrying seeing as he hadn't said anything for a while.
"Why?" I took a deep breath at his question, using the knuckles of my balled fist to massage my chest through the shirt I had on.
"I just can't. It's overwhelming for me. Sure, things weren't perfect before you got here, but now they're worse—" I was saying before Wayne cut me off.
"Johnathan—" Wayne said with a pause. "Please."
A small breath left my lips as I ran a hand through my hair. "What am I supposed to do, Wayne?" I asked as my shoulders slacked. They were aching too. "Everything's moving too fast. Everything's confusing. I don't think I'm ready for a relationship, especially since it's you—"
"Let's start from scratch."
"What?"
"Let's pretend like the past few weeks didn't happen, okay?" He was blabbering now, and he seemed like he was grasping at straws. "We'll just talk and get to know each other from the start again. No dates, no having sex — just friends. I'm sorry I rushed things. I wasn't thinking," he went on. My hands were shaky, so I grabbed the bedsheets with my free on and tightened the grip I had on my phone. My mouth had gone dry again. It was like my body was telling me to shut up and not talk, but I ignored it.
"Okay," I muttered into the receiver, listening as Wayne let out a relieved sigh.
"Can I come over tomorrow them? You'll open the door, right?" he asked, and I looked down at my feet as I thought about it.
"Sure, you can come over," I answered, and he let out another sigh before thanking me and hanging up with a quick 'bye.'
"Idiot," I scolded myself, flopping back on my bed before covering my face with the nearest pillow.
Why was I such an idiot?