CHRYSALIS

30. H.

dont be a wuss. listen to the song. it makes it better.

It was cold. The wind was sharp against the parts of my skin that were exposed to it, but the rest of my body was covered in a generous amount of blanket.

It smelled like the ocean. I remember the moments before my brain had fully awoken when I was peacefully ignorant and thinking about how nice it was to wake up to the waves so loud in my ears.

In my naive state of slumber, I reached for you. I had woken with you in my bed so many times that I knew you liked to sleep on the far side, facing the wall instead of the door.

When my fingertips came up empty I stretched them farther, thinking perhaps the bed was larger than I initially thought. My shoulder burned as I pushed its limits, my fingers crawling to you to find solace against your warm skin, inked with artwork that I wanted to trace.

It wasn't until they wrapped around the edge of the mattress that my brain caught up.

My face turned from the sunlight that beamed through the window and was met with a dull vision as I took in the vacant side of the bed. My ears that had just moments ago been peacefully listening to the waves crash on the shore, were straining to hear your footsteps around the corner.

The villa was silent. There were no footsteps, There was no you. The dress that fell from your body the night before was no longer in its place on the ground, just a damp puddle to remind me that it was real.

I let myself fall back flat onto the bed and buried my head in the pillows. I let myself wallow for a few minutes, the stinging in my sinuses faded after a minute and the wetness that pooled in my eyes stayed contained.

"Please talk to me."

I said those words to you the night before and I knew you heard me. I knew this morning would be hard for you but fuck, I didn't think you'd run.

I gathered my damp clothing from the floor and pulled the heavy, cold fabric over my once warm skin.

I stepped quietly around the small space, just to make sure you weren't hiding somewhere even though I knew I wouldn't find you.

I walked back up the beach to the main house and shook my head softly at Mitch when he raised an eyebrow at me. I made quick work of the stairs and stopped at the door of the room you had chosen. I opened it carefully and held my breath, even though I knew I wouldn't find you.

All of your things were still exactly where they had been, completely untouched and blissfully unaware of the hours they'd missed. It gave me a sliver of hope that you might still be around.

Then I walked to the other end of the hall to the restroom and for the briefest moment, my brain tricked my ears into hearing your laughter from the other side of the door. I knocked and heard no answer. I opened the door anyway, even though I knew I wouldn't find you.

Finally, I stood outside the bedroom I had claimed. I pressed my forehead against and prayed to every God I knew that I'd find your soft limbs tangled in those sheets, or hear your familiar voice sing the songs of my past back at me from the vanity. I turned the knob and it open, even though I knew I wouldn't find you.

I showered in silence, I leaned my body against the stone walls of the shower so that it could help me stand while I let the sadness wash over me. Crying naked in the shower of a rental house was not exactly how I envisioned my 27th birthday.

I wondered if you'd realized it when you left, that it was still my birthday. I wondered if that had mattered to you or if it gave you pause as you ran from me.