MAKE SURE TO VOTE AND COMMENT!!!
ALSO, HOW DO YOU GUYS FEEL ABOUT ME MAYBE CHANGING ELIANA'S NAME?? (ELLISE, ALANA, ARIELLE, SUGGESTIONS??)
word count: [2346]
Things have been slow since I've come back home. I've tried to start working at Sharon's again to transition back into my normal life, but people kept on following me everywhere I went—the paparazzi, fans, strangers who were just curious. Instead, I opted to stay in my room and despite what Hazel said, it wasn't because I was still depressed.
Some days, I still thought about him. On some days, I wonder what he's doing. I wonder if he is still with her. I wonder if he is happy before I stop myself because I want to stop thinking about him. I want to move on.
Other days I survive the whole day without thinking about him. I don't think about him until the very, late hours when I'm alone in my bed, right before I succumb to sleep. Those days are better. Those days I know I can move on. Those days I know that I'm already slightly there.
Today is one of the other days. That's how I know that it's going to be a good day.
Well, that's what I thought.
My phone started ringing, and I saw that it was Hazel who was calling me.
"Hey," she said and her voice was soft. That threw me off immediately.
"What's wrong?" I asked, scared and irritated. Hazel is not the type to beat around the bush about things. She's usually blunt. This could only mean bad things are going to come out of her mouth.
"Brandon's in town." She said it very quickly like she was ripping a band-aid straight off.
"What?" I inhaled. "What do you mean he's here?" My ears must be deceiving me.
"I saw it online. There are pictures of him at the airport. Here."
"Why is he here?" I asked her like she knew the answer, but I knew she didn't have any answers for me. At this point, I was just desperate. "I was just— I mean why—"
"It's okay," she talked gently to me. "I get it. I don't know why, but that doesn't mean anything."
I place my hands over my face for a second. "We both know there's only one reason he's here."
"I know," she replied, "but that still doesn't mean anything. You don't have to see him or talk to him. You don't owe him anything."
"I know," I groaned, "but I was just starting over. How am I supposed to—"
Suddenly, there was a knocking at my door.
"I think he's here," I told her.
"I could come over if you want," she offered.
"Oh my gosh. What am I supposed to do? What—" I exhaled to calm myself. "It's okay. I have to do this."
I walked towards the door and just open it. I figured it'd be better to just get it over with instead of waiting for a second, which could lead to another second. However, when I opened the door and saw Brandon, I regretted it instantly.
We both stared at each other in shock like we couldn't believe that the other was right there in front of us.
I cleared my throat and looked at him, but that got to be too much. I settled for looking at his chin. I felt like that was a good middle ground. "I don't understand why you're here," I told him.
"I'm not with Charlotte," he told me and his voice was a bit raspy. "I want—"
I interrupted him, just like he did when we broke up—when I tried to tell him that I loved him. I understood why now. I didn't want to hear what he had to say, even though it's technically a good thing because then it'd be too hard. It'd crush my resolve.
"I know what you want. I figured." My voice was strong, which was different and I'm glad. Right now, I couldn't be a nervous wreck. "But I told you to not contact me anymore."
He looked conflicted for a moment and a bit frustrated too. "Do you remember that story I told you?"
My eyebrows furrowed. I didn't understand how this related to anything. "What—"
"The story about the princess," he clarified, a bit desperate and pleading now.
His eyes begged me to let him continue talking, and because I was still in love with him—how can I not be—I let him go on.
"What about it?" I asked quietly, impatiently. I closed my door a bit because I felt like if I was going to open myself up to him by letting him have the chance to explain himself, I couldn't give him the full chance to step any closer.
"The princess became the queen, right?" I nodded, biting my lip. I barely remembered that story. I don't understand why it's so important to him. "She didn't need a king because she had the power to rule all on her own, but there was a king who fancied her anyway. This king loved her from afar and admired the way she glowed, not because it was beautiful but because he knew how special she was to be able to glow like that. It meant that she beautiful all on her own, not because of the glow."
"What's the point of this?"
"I'm talking about you. The story was always about you."
I paused. My hand went dropped down. "That-" I shake my head, "That doesn't even make sense. You told me that story before we were even together."
"I know," he said, shifting on his feet. He placed his hand on the door and goes to open it, but I shake my head at him. He sighed before letting his hand fall to his side again. "After I went home and I realized that I was thinking about you when I came up with the story, I didn't know what to think. I was confused."
"You're always confused," I said, making a go at slamming the door, but he wedged his foot in between. I was tired of listening to him. Nothing he said made anything better. He still broke my heart.
He cursed but looked at me with a look so soft that I was even tempted to reach out and touch him. "But it's always been you. You have to see that."
"I don't have to do anything," I said. My words were meant to be harsh to discourage him and make him leave, but I didn't have the energy in me anymore. "Why are you here now?"
"I know I made a mistake," he said, so distraught. "I don't even know how to explain it."
"That's not enough," I said, sadly. I tried to close the door again, but his foot was still there.
I turned to look at him, to beg him with my eyes to just leave me be, only to find him staring at me with the same look. "Baby, please let me make it up to you."
I recoiled at the pet name. "You hurt me. You broke my heart. You chose somebody else over me. I felt used." He looked more broken as I continued on. "I don't care that you made a mistake. I don't care what your intentions were. How am I supposed to trust you again?" I broke off, feeling my entire being shaking. "It's too late."
"You were right. I was too afraid. I didn't want to chance something new. That was my mistake." He spoke rapidly like it would help his case, but it didn't change anything.
I told him just that. "I'm glad you realize that," I spoke honestly, "but it doesn't change anything for me. I wish, I wish so bad that I could trust you with my heart again because I wished that you'd come back to me, but I don't want to be hurt again. I'm afraid and maybe that's my mistake now, but I can't."
"I'd choose you over and over again in a heartbeat," he said earnestly.
"But you didn't choose me first," I said firmly. "That's all that matters."
"Doesn't it matter that I'm here now? That I choose you now?" It's then that he brushes his hair with one of his hands in a frantic motion, and I notice that he's holding something in his hands.
My eye went back up to him. "Not to me." I shook my head. "What if you don't choose me later?"
"I will always choose you." His hands seem to be shaking.
"That's a lie," I spoke quietly.
He shook his head. "The lie was when I said that you couldn't break my heart, when I said that you couldn't break what I don't have. My heart, my life," he listed, urgent, "started up again when I met you. You took me out of my cycle and made me experience something different. That's why it's always been you," he emphasized. "That was a lie because you can absolutely break my heart. You have that power, but I don't care anymore. I'll let you have control over my heart if it means that I'll have yours to hold forever."
I turned away, not having the strength to look at him fully in the eye. I felt myself start to tear up at his words because it sounds really nice, but it sounds more like a fantasy world than real-life. "That's nice and all, but I can't believe you. Not anymore. Not like this." I make a move to close the door again.
His hand whipped out this time. "Please," he whispered.
I stared at him. "Please," I said weakly... broken.
I closed the door again, and this time, it was successful. I breathed out a sigh of relief, but then I started to feel my whole entire body shaking. I slid against the door, not knowing what to do.
He was still outside, I'm pretty sure. I didn't hear him walk away, and the thought of him still there, with only the door separating us, made my heart race again and again.
I jumped when his hand connected to the door. He was banging on it, not loudly or obnoxiously. It was more of a cry of help. His pounding got quieter and quieter until there was complete silence.
"I don't want to lose you. I finally figured it out," he said and I could detect a smile from the tone of his voice. It was like he was giving me good news, but everything was so unexpected. I don't know anymore. "I love you. Only you. I will do anything to prove that to you." I know he isn't lying. He just sounds so... determined. "I just want you to know that I'm telling you the truth. I don't care what happens afterward. You just deserve to know that you are loved. That someone loves you back. That I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not choosing you. I'm sorry for doubting what we had. I'm sorry for all of it, but most of all I'm sorry for hurting you. After you called me, I started to think about my life without you in it and I realized I can't even imagine my life without you in it because you're it. I'm sorry. I hope that you can forgive me, even though I know I don't deserve it." He knocked one last time. "I'm sorry."
I heard some movements then I see the little notebook he was holding in his hand earlier slide through the gap under the door.
"I wrote in this every day since I realized I could have lost you forever," he said softly. I just stared at it, not knowing if I should grab it or even look at it. "Please, look at it."
I slowly reached out to grab it, placing it on my lap. My hands play around with the cover, opening it a bit then closing it again. I bit my lip then open it quickly so I don't have time to rethink it again.
Day 1
I'm sorry.
He drew a sketch of himself with his heart in his hands. It seemed like he drew using a black pen. The only color was his red heart.
Day 2
I love you.
There's a sketch of me—he even added color—holding the red heart.
Day 3
You are my everything.
The sketch was bigger, more detailed. He put the most amount of work on my eyes. It was truly beautiful.
Day 4
I love spending and sharing my whole day with you.
It was a drawing of a polaroid of me making a silly face. That was his lock screen for a while.
Day 5
I love the way you say my name.
By now, I was fully crying. I closed the notebook, hiccupping through my tears. I laid my head back against the door for a second before I broke down and flipped through the notebook. All the entries were short, but I noticed that each sketch of me was full of color and just so... vibrant.
I flipped to the last page.
I'm sure we'll meet in the spring
And catch up on everything
I'll say I'm proud of all that you've done
You taught me the ropes, and you taught me to love
He signed it with, "For my baby girl, Eliana Violet."
I closed my eyes when I finished reading. I'm pretty sure it's lyrics to a song. It's beautiful, and I can't stop imagining how it would sound like when he sang it. I believed that it'd be even more beautiful.
I felt my resolve breaking. I took out my phone and looked at the new articles on him.
The title said, "Brandon Arreaga Leaves Tour?!?" The subtitle said, "PRETTYMUCH's representative said that Brandon had to leave for a short while for personal reasons."
He left his tour.
He left for me.
I don't know.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do with this information, with his confession, with anything.
I don't know what to do.
❅ ❅ ❅
MAKE SURE TO VOTE AND COMMENT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!!
thoughts?
what do you guys think brandon should do to get eliana back?