ELOISE HAD BOUGHT HERSELF ICE CREAM AT THE SMALL DESSERT PARLOR NEAR SUE'S. Dark chocolate for her; a non-dairy raspberry sherbet for him. Jonah looked at her like she was the goddamn universe herself, her small smile shining like fiery lights through abysmal shades of grey matter.
She didn't want to say goodbye.
***
Gripping the phone closer to her right ear, fingertips cold and nearly frozen, the balls of her feet fall back as she stumbles a bit. Her heart hurts—hurts so much, and it's unbearable, really, at the uncontrollable emotion squeezing her ribs.
A dry laugh escapes between cracked lips. "What?"
Her nails dig into the warm screen with so much pressure that she's afraid it'll shatter.
On the other side of the line, there's an odd warm crackling before the wave of silence ends and her nightmare begins. The beginnings are always like this: crystallized vengeance comes to twist the flesh of her veins, all inky and black and spiraling, and there's no escape.
"Why didn't you call me back? You—you're not picking up my calls," her father croaks out. There's a crack between his statement, and she knows exactly what he's doing. He's probably sitting on the couch with the phone cradled in his left hand, ridden with guilt but face impassive. If people could win awards for deception, Matthew Park would be the reigning champion.
"I don't answer to you anymore. Stop calling me, Dad. I can't—" She breaks off, and it's getting harder to breathe. Everything goes black for a moment. And she. Can't. Think.
Muffling comes through the line. "You can't avoid me forever, Eloise," her father confronts. "What would your mother think about your actions?"
Reality chokes her at the base of her throat, blood pressure rising and eyes turning glassy. "My mother," Elosie manages to get out, gasping for air, "is dead. So no, I can't wonder what she would think because she's six feet under the fucking ground." She exhales. "Don't use her as a piece of bait."
The absence of noise for several minutes leaves her shoulders shaking. "I'm sober," he slowly, sorrowfully, admits. "Today makes seven months."
You said that last year, too, so don't make me believe in something that reaches the heights of insanity.
The pounding of blood rushes through the hollowness of her veins, sluggish adrenaline striking her pulse. "That's great," Eloise says quietly. Voice callous and empty. "Really. That's good, dad."
"Will you come home now?"
"You and I—we have... different definitions of home."
"This will always be your home, Eloise."
The nails digging into her palm cut flesh. "No," she whispers. "Any—any place is better than that hellhole. It's best that I don't visit you, and—and I can't. I can't."
On the other side of the conversation, she hears her father sigh lowly. "When are you going to forgive me?"
Tiny knives make incisions in her heart, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. She feels as if the ground is slipping out from under her, as if her body will fall endlessly into an empty abyss full of heartbreak and misery. Eloise is panting now—desperately, wildly panting. Hot air passes through her lips, salty tears forming a delicate stream down her cheeks before meeting at the base of her chin.
"I, um," Eloise mumbles incoherently. Her father remains silent in anticipation for her answer. "I have to go."
"El, wait—"
She hangs up the phone and jerkily runs a hand through her hair, fingers slick with sweat and forehead damp.
Eloise Park lacks fear for many things. But the things that do scare her are intangible, indescribable, lacking a physical form. Love, heartbreak, words, loneliness, death—
She feels everything, and it is always too much. Her mind is a sharp jumble of broken glass and diluted poison; of misunderstood metaphors and contaminated black holes.
People are not poetry, she thinks wildly. Don't expect them to be.
***
Someone shakes her shoulders, and it's enough for her to barely make out a wave of dark hair and worrisome eyes.
"Eloise," Chase says. "C'mon, just look at me. Look at me."
Distantly, she looks up through rose-colored glasses and nods slowly. Her tears are collecting on the edge of her bottom lashes, all golden amber and stolen sunshine. There's a faint buzz in the back of her mind faintly resembling trickling drops of water, and her heartbeat is rapid underneath the corner of her jaw.
Her friend grips her shoulders again. "We need Parker," Chase says with a panicked tone. "Shit, Ellie. I don't—I don't know how to help you, and it's really freaking me out. Talk to me."
Eloise blinks slowly, and it's then that she realizes she's trembling against their apartment wall. Motion before her eyes pass like a honeyed daze: languid and painfully slow.
She shakes her head and stands up shakily before leaning on Chase to support her. "I need—need to leave," Eloise chokes out. "Need to get out."
And something in her voice must be enough for Chase to let her go, for her to watch Eloise stumble through the threshold and stumble over her own two feet to get in her car. She nearly falls down the stairs twice, and once she's settled in the driver's seat, Eloise looks at her own reflection and sees her father's eyes, his nose, the color of his hair.
It's enough for her to rip her attention from the side mirror and instead press her foot on the gas pedal, driving both to anywhere and nowhere.
***
The cool evening air hits the burning skin of her cheeks, and it's a relief of some sort. Winds blow outside and the clouds linger on the edge of silver linings. And she can breathe.
The center of campus is dim on a Saturday night (everyone must be at frat parties or out underneath city lights), and Eloise finds herself sitting on one of the bleachers looking at the soccer field—her mind is empty and quiet, her soul breathing a little bit easier now.
Needless to say, today's a bad day. One of the worst ones she's had in a while now, and Eloise's throat is raw from all of the dull crying she's been doing. She keeps thinking about the conversation with her father, and how he'd had the nerve to use her mother as a fucking piece of defense, as if it'd ever make her change her mind. Fuming rage builds up in her stomach.
She sits. And she waits for something—she doesn't even know what—until the puffiness from her eyes subsides and the temperature drops in degrees. Everything hurts inside, and she just can't wait until the next morning sunlight comes to wash out the toxins in her blood—
A faint touch on her shoulder makes her flinch. It's chaos at first, but then she sees him and everything else goes silent. Jonah takes a seat next to her, not quite touching, but he's there, and that's enough. He's dressed in soccer pants and a black hoodie, hair messed up to the max and lips soft.
Something bubbles at the back of Eloise's throat and then she's crying all over again; salty heartbreak spills out over onto raw cheeks as she shivers involuntarily. Jonah immediately reaches to his hood and pulls off his sweatshirt in a smooth motion before wrapping it around her shoulders; she leans into the exquisite angel and sighs raggedly, tucking her face delicately into the ocean-scented cologne.
He doesn't say anything for a bit: just remains hushed under a twilight sky and tucks her face between the space of his neck and shoulder, one hand gently toying with the ends of her curls. His heartbeat is slow and steady, but it spikes when she gently presses her lips to the underside of his collarbone—a silent thanks for his silence, perhaps, or maybe just because she can. She doesn't know how to differentiate between the two.
He lets her speak first. "Jonah," Eloise murmurs fragilely. Tenderly.
The boy presses his lips gently to the top of her head. "Hi, baby." His voice is seductive midnight and quiet stillness. "What's going on inside those pretty thoughts?"
She sucks in a breath and runs a thumb against masculine knuckles. "My dad called," she says quietly.
His body goes still. "How bad?"
"Bad," Eloise says in anguish. "Really fucking bad."
He's silent— for a moment. "If you want to talk," Jonah encourages, voice smooth, "I'm here—to get it all out. I'll stay as long as you need me to."
Something about those words is almost as beautiful as him, and the space between her heart and eternal sadness closes just a little.
"I think I'm lonely," she admits, voice cracking half-way.
Jonah holds her a little tighter, as if she'll slip away between his fingers.
"I'm lonely, Jonah, and all the way fucked-up. I think I'm stronger than I actually am, and I'm falling apart. I am falling apart, and I don't know how to fix myself. I don't—I don't know if I can."
A tear falls, and he reaches over to wipe it away. Jonah Kim has those eyes, the kind ones that say 'everything will be okay' and even if the world was black and white, Jonah would be the whole goddamn rainbow.
"Life is the art of pretending to be normal," he says, low voice carried by the wind. "It's okay to crack sometimes—to break down. That doesn't mean you're weak, or that you're desperate, or all of the other shit that's running through your head." Jonah pressed two fingers against the underside of her chin and tilts her head towards him. "You're not a bad person for trying to kill your sadness," he says, leaning towards her so that their foreheads are touching. "Eloise, you're not."
She wipes her eyes and looks up at him underneath soaked lashes. There's tragic beauty written on his face, alongside with glazed innocence, and Eloise can't help the subtle quick of her lips as her dark clouds start to clear. "Do you think it'll ever get better? The pain—the hurting?"
Jonah brings a hand and tightens his sweatshirt around her body. "I don't know," he says after a minute. "I'm not sure it'll ever go away, and I'm not sure it'll ever completely subside, and this pain—this feeling will be with you for the rest of your life."
Eloise closes her eyes and breathes him in.
"But," Jonah mumbles against her hair, and she thinks that his eyes are closed too, that they're wrapped in only themselves and the midnight stars. "But being human means being sad, and lonely, and hurt. It's okay to break down, baboya. Your future needs you." She links their fingers together like a missing puzzle piece. "Your past doesn't."
Some people understand when there are words spoken. And some will understand even when there aren't.
Eloise releases a brittle breath and opens her eyes to find him studying her. Jonah is the creation of the dreams of galaxies: of comets against charcoal skies and burnt amber and long conversations and soft sweaters. The straight edge of his nose is offset by the velvet look in his irises, cupid bow practically begging for attention. Her pulse speeds up, and this time, it isn't from sadness.
"I fall sometimes," she slowly acknowledges. "And it takes me a while to get back up. I don't—I don't want you to get trapped. In whatever this is." She gestures to the space between their bodies.
The boy with the angelic smile and devilish hair turns his attention to the shape of her bottom lip, eyes blinking languidly before he smirks with illegal charm. "Then fall. I'll catch you—always."
Her mouth trembles.
Jonah's hands feel like heaven as he pulls her firmly against his chest, both of their hearts steadily beating to the same tempo of the world's music. "I'm not easy to be around," Eloise highlights. "I cry a lot, and I get sad, and I block people out sometimes—"
"I'm not asking for easy." Jonah hooks an arm around her waist and brushes a thumb across her right cheekbone. "I don't want easy. I'm asking for you."
She leans towards him even further, fingers exploring the sharp curve of his jaw and smooth expanse of hot skin. She wonders if he can see the freckles dotting her nose bridge, or the slight furrow in her brows as she closes her eyes and clutches his thin shirt. Feels the hidden strength in the lean cords of muscle lining his shoulders, his forearms, his biceps. Feels the blood rush to her head as he tilts his jaw in the slightest manner, and holy shit—he's kissing her, and his mouth is languorous. Tempting. Jonah tastes like sugared wine and melancholic sunlight and tears—or maybe the tears are from her. He kisses like a heart breaker—like she's the last breath of oxygen left in this whole goddamn world.
His tongue dances across her bottom lip, followed by a gentle, teasing scrape of his teeth, and every nerve ending in her brain is going completely, utterly haywire. There's a rhythm in the way he lazily presses kisses to her lips—and they're both gasping for air, but neither pull away, too scared to break this moment.
I am not good at many things, Eloise thinks at the back of her head. I can't give you everything you deserve, Jonah, and I can't give you everything that someone else can. I know I'm selfish, and I'm weak, but I promise—I promise that I will be good to you.
"Jonah," she murmurs hotly against his mouth, fingers trailing around the nape his neck to bury themselves in the silken locks of his midnight hair. He smells like pure boy and reckless laughter.
"Eloise," he mumbles back, arms around her waist tightening. "Baby," he says, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips again before pulling back. She revels in the godly sight of Jonah's flushed cheeks and wild eyes; in his disheveled hair and swollen lips.
And he's the most gorgeous thing she's ever seen.
A flicker of concern passes through his eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she breathes, soul light now. "Yeah. I'm okay."
And she wonders if perhaps the stars smiled down upon them as if they knew about their collision all along. If, perhaps, he sees underneath the smoke and shadows, and instead sees her. All of her. Sees her batter scars and dreary fears and everything in between—
And maybe they're both lost in their own thoughts, but it's going to be alright, because Jonah Kim will always catch her when she stumbles.
***
author's note: if i could describe this chapter in one word, it would be: wow. this is so near to my heart, and eloise is really going through it right now. actually, writing this was ridiculously hard but it was worth it. 'the constellations of you and me' was only supposed to be, like, ten chapters... but clearly, that is NOT happening. also, jonah is my sweetheart. until next time! (this chapter is very, very unedited and will be edited later....looking rough right now but wanted to update today)