"If you love me for what you see,
only your eyes would be in love with me.
If you love me for what you've heard,
then you would love me for my words.
If you love my heart and mind,
then you will love me for all I'm.
But if you don't love my every flaw,
then you mustn't love me-not at all."
-Lang Leav.
Alia felt like absolute shit. Her head felt heavy, playing a horrible game of killing her softly through a headache that just wouldn't go away. At least she didn't look that bad. She winced, the lie did nothing to make her feel any better. If she was honest she probably looked worst than how she was feeling. Her eyes were still rimmed red from another battle of not going to cry last night. Which she lost miserably.
Not only did she have dark circles from being up for more than half the night, her eyes were puffy, she wouldn't be surprised if people asked her if she could see. And instead of helping conceal the problem like concealer was meant to, it seemed to highlight the slight issue she was having. The small amount of blusher she had on made her feel like she was a clown. With the crying, lack of sleep and eating she was also looking on the paler side. Her lipstick looked horrible due to her chapped lips, so she stuck to chapstick for the day. Not that it was going to be much of a day.
And for the first time ever, she was going to take advantage of chill Friday's. Alia never dressed casually, in all seven years of working for the company. She was known to be in business attire, and you could distinctly tell when she was coming towards you from the familiar sound of her stiletto heels. To hell with it she thought to herself. Looking through her jeans she pulled a pair of white wide legged jeans. Her favourite pair they said snuggly high waisted. With summer ending and autumn coming in she opted for a cropped cami underneath a sage green cardigan, that fell off her shoulder just how she liked it. She buttoned it up, the frayed edges sticking out. The deep v cut let sneak peeks of the lacey top through.
Satisfied she through on a pair of ankle boots, her mama's necklace and father's ring on her with the family crest on her pinky finger. Her hair was matte and slightly greasy. But she didn't care a single bit. Feeling she couldn't give more of a shit than she already was she didn't brother brushing it. She brushed through her brown locks with her fingers to what she thought was acceptable enough to look like messy waves. Her hair was always up in a bun, not a single hair ever out of place. But today she couldn't give a flying fuck.
Heart break really brought something out of her she realised.
Carsten had been getting the dirty looks of disappointment for a week now. A week since she walked out using her days off for the first time without having to be forced. Even then Lia never would, you could always count on her being near him. Being there for him. For seven years she had been his right hand, her smile what got him to get out of bed in the morning, knowing she'd be at her desk waiting for him. For seven years knowing she would put him in his place kept him humble and clear headed. For seven years just knowing she wasn't too far from him put his head and heart to peace.
And now he was suffocating, trying to rationalise his decision was the right call. And feeling like he is barely coasting by in life, alive but not living at all because he missed her and her light. He ran a hand over his face tired, the last words he said to her played through his mind. He had to let her go, even if he would be stuck inside the memories he shared with her. Even though he shouldn't have said what he did. He held onto the silver of hope that grounded him that she'd be here today. He missed her, the ache in his chest eating away at him. And it had only been three days, how was he going to survive forever when she was to be transferred out to next week?
The elevator doors opened to his floor. He heard the silent whoosh of the other elevator doors close as he stepped out paying no attention to the sound or who was in there. She was going to be here today, he chanted in his head like a mantra. He didn't look into the office space. Could feel the cold icy stares and insufferable silence the second they caught him. His friends were giving him the third degree and it was eating at him. Slowly but surely. He walked around the bend to his suite stopping short. She wasn't there. The same woman who had never taken a day off before hadn't been back for three days and it was his fault. He felt the frustration rise as he stoically walked pass and into his room. He spanned the room, there were too many memories of her in here. It was like being stuck with the ghost of her, her smile, the countless times she fell asleep on his couch, her smell, vanilla and coconut. He didn't think twice before moving to swipe off half his desk, when a single white envelope stuck out.
It wasn't anything like the thick A5 envelopes they were used to in a shade of brown. No it was smaller and white. And the handwriting he could recognise from anywhere, the same handwriting he had spent years reading was scribbled across in cursive black. His heart sank to his stomach, hands shook as he loosened his tie, throwing it the side before unbuttoning the top of his shirt. The room felt small and he couldn't breathe. And the three words he couldn't get out of his head played on replay.
Two weeks notice.
There were many thing Alia had regretted in her life. Not going to college when she finally got the chance years later. But then she felt too old, too much time had passed. Not going out with the cute friend of her bosses because she was hung up over an asshole who successfully broke her heart a year later. She regretted not falling for one of the others, anyone else. But she knew it the the bitterness that had overtaken her heart that was saying this. She was better than that, everyday she woke up and looked for one reason why it was a good day. Today was no different. She was starting a new adventure. That had to be a good thing. He bags were packed and being sent to the airport. All she needed was to clear her desk before she left.
The thought of doing so made her sick but she was stronger than that. She had built her life from the ground up first to look after her sister until she passed away before even graduating high school. She'd done it when her parents had both been killed in a car accident and she dropped out of college. She'd done it when she starting working at a start up with four young men who took a chance on her, who had become her family for seven years. She could do it again. She smoothed her hand over the steering wheel of the mustang. The black beauty was something she wished she could one day own, maybe. But for now she was grateful Misha had lent it to her after letting her stay at his home for the past two days. Her landlords timing really was impeccable.
The nerves ate at her as she pulled into the underground parking. She smiled tentatively at the guard who was obviously confused. She had only ever driven in with Carsten before. And it was known no one was allowed to even touch Misha's cars let alone drive them. She pulled in carefully to a bay at the end hidden away. She grabbed the envelope sitting on the passenger seat climbing out. Her heart was in her throat, her knuckles grew whiter with how fierce her grip was on the envelope. She wasn't going to look back, he knew that and she didn't know if that was what toppled her into a state of numbness. The finality of it all.
She ignored the curious and concerned looks of her colleagues as she pressed the button for the elevator. She huddled herself in a corner in the back leaning against the cool metal barley giving out smiles or nods of her head when people said goodbye until she got to the top floor. Her heart didn't stir. The tears didn't come to the surface. She held her head high as she walked out and down the floor. She didn't pause to look into the office space and greet them all with a smile like she usually did even though she felt the eyes of her lost family on her. She didn't falter as she walked around the bend to her desk putting the envelope down for now. Her hands didn't tremble as she went to the storage room pulling out a empty box before beginning to put all her personal things in. It did make her stop for a second seeing as how there wasn't as much stuff as she was expecting.
She didn't let the whimper in her throat escape when she turned to see the boys standing there watching her. Misha, Apollo, and Issac with expressions of anger on their faces. She didn't fight it when they took the box from her hands. Each murmuring into her hair as they hugged her tight and fiercely. But what had her release a yelp of surprise was Misha grabbing her into a hug, where he rested his chin on her head. Misha, the mean who in all the years she had known him had been nice yet quiet. She swore she could count how many times they had a conversation on her fingers. Her eyes bugged, and she saw the boys smiling at the sight. He did like her.
"Take my car mishka I can always come and pick it up whenever."
She wouldn't fight him. The biggest grump has given up his home for her in the past days, given her a job at one of the lodges he owned so she could get away from the city. So she could start fresh and new with no past. She couldn't help it, she gripped his shit and cried for god knows how long.
"Thank you Misha."
Misha petted her head awkwardly like she was a dog. She couldn't help the croakily laugh that escaped.
"We take care of our own." He spoke with finality.
She removed her head from his chest and winced at the stains she left. He waved her off. She didn't fight the boys huddling around her, walking her to the elevator her box in hand. Not them walking her to Misha's treasured car. The made promises and reassurances that they'd stay in touch and visit her. And she was grateful that she has crossed paths with them when they were just young fresh graduates. She took their faces in, seeing the younger them in their faces, they had all grown together. She breathed deeply, got in and buckled herself in. It was time. Her heart hurt as she turned out of the car park. But she promised herself no more tears until she got to her destination.
He didn't care about the shock and whispers that followed the sound of his door banging into the wall. Nor the way he probably looked in a crazy dazed state as he ran to the open space his friends were in. He didn't care that the rumours would fly. He spotted his boys and came to a stop. Maybe they were taking pity on him but they stopped giving him the attention he needed.
"Did you guys know?" He barely managed to get out over a whisper.
"What do you care?" It was Misha who replied.
Although his face remained stoic his voice conveyed everything they were feeling.
His eyes snapped to him, to the front of his shirt, the makeup stains. Misha never had any mess on his clothes. The man's cleanliness was levels they never could understand. You wouldn't never ever find a piece of lint on him. And he must have seen his fixated stare.
"The past days, she has cried herself to sleep when she thought I couldn't hear." His voice was levelled.
The others just inhaled sharply knowing where this was probably going.
"She walked around my home a zombie, not knowing how to go about it all with a fucking smile on her face." He finally looked him in the eyes.
"All because of you."
Carson snapped. Up in Misha's face ready to...
To what, he felt himself deflate, Misha was right.
"Why was she in your bed, in your house." The fear he felt had him frozen.
"Why do you care Carsten, my girl left today, she cried in my chest, thanked me with a kiss to my cheek before driving away in my car."
Jealous rage, he got one hit in before Misha snarled jumping him. Apollo and Issac barley managed to pull them apart.
"You're a fucking coward Carsten, the girl left the only family she had because of you breaking her heart!" Misha spat at him.
"I know, I love her and hurt her Misha!" He screamed right back.
"I know." He shrugged off Apollo, staring Misha down.
"I care for her brother, like she's my own sister." Misha finally relented.
He felt relief, relief he had no right to feel. Yet he felt like something was stuck in his throat because she was gone. Even though he promised she'd always have them, him to keep her safe and comfortable. That her position was always by his side, her job never in jeopardy. He was a fucking idiot.
"I'm an idiot." He cried.
"She's gone, maybe this is for the better, she'll be happy and well and find someone who won't fuck it up like I did." He didn't whine, but it sounded a lot like that.
What he wasn't prepared for was the slap across the back of his head from Apollo.
"No you don't" he snorted.
You have no right to feel sorry for yourself. For seven years we've watched that girl love you and out you with your shit. We watched her heartbroken and walk away from all this because it was driving her insane to know you could discard her so easily."
He opened his mouth to say he was fucking crazy if he thought she was replaceable. But Apollo simply put his hand up stopping him.
"We've watched her support you, care for you when you've fallen ill, run on fumes because you decided it was going to be a late night. We've watched her see you in you're darkest times and she held you. Never once did she take your vulnerability as you being a coward or as not manly. She's lost without you Carsten just like you are without her."
"You'd be an idiot and coward if you don't go fight for her to forgive you man." Issac pitched in.
"If she wasn't so lost on you, any of us would've claimed her ages ago brother, women like her are rare." Misha chimed in.
"I don't know where she's gone." He whispered looking at them.
"But you have the means to find out." They all said at the same time.
"What if I'm too late?" He voiced his insecurity.
"Then you fight for however long it takes, a year, five? It means nothing in the long run if it means Alia comes home to you, to us." Issac replied.
"She's gone out of state." Misha broke through.
Carsten just stared at him blankly.
"I gave her my private jet to fly out and reach the lodge in Dakota safely." He looked at his watch.
"You have fifteen minutes to get to the strip and hop on."
It jerked him into motion. Misha had prepared. He always did. He didn't think, didn't speak as he ran for the elevator.
"My drivers out front, and you've got the next month off Carsten." Misha shored form behind him.
"We'll extend you're time off accordingly!" Chimed in Issac.
"Don't bother coming home without her brother." The words of finality came from Misha, his hands crossed, eyes glaring the last thing he saw before the doors closed.
Alia closed her eyes, refusing any drinks or snacks. She had been on Misha's jet before, they know her nervousness when it came to flying. She popped a sleeping pill hoping it'll come into effect before even take off. And when she awoke she'd pick up on making her happy and peace.
The car stopped as the last stewardess was reaching the last step. He winced when she startled from him shouting wait. He'd apologise, after he gets on. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, granted he didn't look his best, hair a mess, tie loosened, shirt creased and buttons undone. The dark circles that had become permanent for the past days. But he was here.
"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly passing her.
Frantic eyes searched coming across a form that looked smaller. His chest burned from feeling like he could breathe again. Tucked into her usual seat strapped in with a soft blanket over her sat a sleeping Alia. His hand trembled as he reached her careful to not wake her as he moved into the seat next to the window, his usual seat. He lowered himself taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He lay a soft kiss on her knuckles before buckling in.
The second they were cleared for take off, he undid both their seatbelts, softly manoeuvring her until she was in a more comfortable position, head again his chest. He breathed in her sent hoping it would will his heart to calm, though he knew it wouldn't. Not until he mended what he broke. And he would fight for her, no matter how long it was going to take. For her he would forever be patient, for a lifetime would not be long enough for him to forgive himself.