A smashed tv, a few shattered glasses and a guitar- horribly trampled on. This place doesn't look half like the one I used to remember, everything's put off place.
"Oh my god, " I gasped, covering my mouth as I made my way in. Taking cautious steps as each was one closer to shards.
"Chase!" I call out worriedly. In the corner of my eye, I find a bloody towel laying across the wooden floor and my heart stops. Tears prick my eyes when a million things flood my mind.
I rush towards it and luckily; I find the person I was looking for, a bottle in hand, half-asleep, bloody knuckles and a bloody face. He leaned on the wall, sitting on his kitchen floor surrounded by spilt whiskey and shards of glass.
"Jesus, " I trembled, almost speechless.
He looked up to me and my heart swells as I take one good look at him. Bruises surrounded his left eye, his lip busted and quivering. And his skin is merely torn. He looked like he fought in a war.
"What are you doing here?" He stood up, wide-eyed and dropping his bottle, shattering it. I stumble backwards even in a weak state like this he still intimidates me.
"Chase...what happened?" I choked as I looked around at the mess he made it my gaze locked on the horrifying wound across his arm as though a knife had been used to draw a line from his shoulder to his elbow.
"I thought you'd never come...come back, " his face falls as he took a step towards me. He reeked of blood, sweat and alcohol. By instinct, I took a step back. And he scowls.
"What happened?" I repeated harshly since he couldn't be bothered to answer the first time.
"I got angry, " He admitted and I take a breath.
"Clearly, "
I leave him to go to the bathroom where I knew his first aid was. As a nurse to her patient my first instinct was to dress his wounds, I don't know where that instinct came from but I have it.
When I returned Chase sat on one stool, his head in between his hands, and I had to stop myself from tearing up.
I was right, something was wrong. Who knows what it could've transpired to if I didn't come. The idea of him being alone sends shivers down my spine.
"Give me your arm," I demanded as I settled the first aid kit. He looked at me, puzzled for a moment, but he listened.
I tried to work with it and suggest that it doesn't need stitches, but as I looked further; it was a deep cut for just a band-aid.
I feel his eyes watch me as I cleaned his wounds. He would wince and hiss every time I would rub some ointment so I would stop to let him recover. Our eyes would meet, but he would say nothing.
"Chase, you can't do stuff like this when you get mad, " I scolded and prepared myself for the screaming.
"I know...yes...I know, I just lost it." He sighs and my hand trembled as I picked up the sutures.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" He gestured to the stitches. But I try to ignore him because I didn't even know. It was just an instinct that came to me.
"Are you...are you ok?" He asked just as I had pierced his skin and he flinches with a groan. Talking with him like this would be a pain, but hearing him in agony would be so much worse. I need to distract him.
"What do you think?" I replied, and he settles.
"I couldn't sleep. I kept on seeing your face, hearing your voice, " he murmurs, and when I heard the pain he held, I almost broke myself.
"Really? Cause I would've thought you'd be sound asleep." I snapped back, weaving another stitch.
"I'm sorry Wave."
"I...I don't want to hear it." I look at him.
"Then what do you want to hear, ba—Wave? I'll tell you, whatever it is." He assured, his eyes softening and speaking all the truth. I saw the pain and I sympathise with him.
"Why did you all of a sudden disappear? For three days I didn't hear from you." I asked. This time the questions in my head weren't all jumbled up. Now, I know what I wanted to ask.
I continued with his sutures, seeing there were about twenty stitches to be done.
"I was being stupid." He said vaguely and I huff.
"You know that's not what I want." I challenged him.
"Fine. I'll tell you exactly why. But please, just, please. Don't. Leave. Don't run away again." I look up at him. His brows were knitted and a look of distress flashed in his wet eyes. His voice is breathy and hoarse that I could just hear him scream his lungs out in anger. It pained me to have to imagine all those things.
"I won't go, as long as you tell me everything, " I assured him with a trembling voice before looking back down to the half-finished stitches.
"When I saw you that day, the day before I started to...I don't know...run away? The day before, I remember watching you record one of your songs." He started.
"I took Polaroids and just watched you. Every other day before that, I only looked at you with lust, nothing more. I felt nothing more than sin towards you. I know I said I wanted something more, but for me—that was more. Until that day. I watched you laugh, smile. I saw you. Then I noticed that whatever it was, it was more than the lust." He took one shaky breath just as I had finished cleaning up the stitches.
Tears brimmed my eyes as I continued to listen to his story. I look at him and watched the passion in his eyes, the desperation and guilty mixing with it.
"When I brought you home that day, I didn't know what I felt. I've never felt that way before...then I watched you walk away and...I got scared. So I blamed it on the one thing I could think of—weakness. What was it I said? Love is for cowards? That was the first thing that came to my mind. So I stayed away, thinking you were making me weak. I forced myself to get mad at you for nothing."
"Each time I drank, I did it to forget. To try to forget what I felt for you because... I didn't understand it. I was afraid of the way I felt. It was just that strong, too strong for me." He breathed.
"But then I realized, maybe I was too weak for it, for you. Last night—" He hesitated, looking around, trying to settle with himself.
"Last night, that kiss was a dare. I knew it was wrong, but she pushed it and when she did, that's when you came. Just when I had finally come to terms about telling you what I felt. God, " he laughed in frustration, "I was so fucking selfish. I've lived a life where everything suited me. My job, my classes, my parents, so when I started caring about you, about someone—I immediately think it's wrong. With you, everything is different. I'm doing the right things, I feel the right ways."
"With you, it's different. I don't know what the fuck it was...I didn't...until last night." He took my hand in his as I let myself cry, overwhelmed by his truthful words.
"I saw it in your eyes. Regret?" He said, "When I saw them, I knew I was gonna lose you and I didn't know how to act. I didn't know whether to fight it out or let you run or both. It terrified me. For once in my life, I was afraid. Whether or not you believe it, the words I said were as true as I can get. I needed to give you a reason to listen. When you didn't... I lost it."
I'm left speechless. I've always known what to say to him when we talk, but when he's like this, it's like all my words dissolved. This is hard for him to do, to open up to me like this, to anyone for that matter, and seeing him do it was appalling. I watched as his face falls, waiting for me to answer him.
"Please, say something." He begged one more time, his lips quivering.
"Chase...I don't know what to say." I tell him truthfully and he frowns, holding my hand just a little tight.
"Say it, "
"Say what?" I sniffled.
"What I said."
My breath hitched, knowing what he meant. I want to say it, but I can't. He's explanation is valid and well thought, but no matter how right it sounded, those three words are meant for a better time. The time when I actually know him.
"You know I can't, "
He closed his eyes as his grip loosens. I feel the anger radiate off of him and I thought he would go for the worst, but when he looked at me his blue eyes comforted me.
"Not now at least. I came back here to you because I couldn't stay away. I wanted to, I wanted to walk away from you because I was tired of having to constantly fight with the feeling that you're out doing something stupid. I got tired of having to tolerate everything because...I was just as afraid to lose you. I came here, hoping that you'd give me the perfect reason to stay. Because I want to."
Finally, having words to say, I tell them, and he watched me carefully. Holding his breath. When I finished, something behind his troubled eyes glistened. His once brooding features brightened.
"Did I give it?"
"With you, I never know," I tell him and his jaw clenches. "But I want you to show me. Prove to me that I can stay without so much pain."
He turns his chair and gently pulls me closer to him, putting my hand on his chest where I felt his heart beating so fast. Mine stopped as I kept my eyes on him.
"You once asked me what I was most afraid of." He said. "I didn't lie when I said I wasn't afraid of anything. Now...my biggest fear...is losing you."
A sob rips through me, but I silence it as I crashed my lips on his. The taste of blood stinging my lips for a moment as the cold metal rolls off my tongue. It was a kiss of a promise, a promise that maybe this was the one reason I needed to stay. All anger and anxiety dissolved into the kiss along with the faint taste of whiskey. We kiss like that for a moment. His lips tasted of longing.
When we pulled away breathlessly, we rested on each other forehead, my eyes closed to savour the moment.
"I love you." He said and my heart clenched. When he said it last night, it meant nothing to me but now, hearing him say it with no other intention but to express it—means the world to me.
I chuckled followed by sniffles to try to return the message and he seemed to be satisfied with it.
"I hate doing this to you." He mumbled as he wiped some tears off of my face and I kept his bloody hands there as if it were the last time.
He cups my face with both hands and right there; I felt safe.
Running back to him after what happened might be a decision I doubted, but hearing all these words come out of him, even those that I didn't want to hear proved something to me. It proved to me that things are different. There wasn't much of uncertainty between us anymore. We feel things now. His once stone cold heart thaws and my numb heart feels again.
"Now come on, let's get you cleaned up," I tell him, taking one last breath with a faint smile appearing on his face.
"Oh, one last thing, "
"If we want this to work this time. Will you finally let me in?" I said dauntlessly.
He looks at me with a smile, still holding me close between his arms.
"If it means I'll keep you, " he kissed me. "Then I will."