Loose Threads | Ethan Cutkosky

SEVENTEEN

Ivy~ Frank Ocean

"THE FEELING DEEP DOWN IS GOOD."

♡ ♡ ♡

Until she finally answered.

"Hello?"

♡ ♡ ♡

She could hear some rustling through the phone, tiny whispers of the voice that had haunted her mind for the past 48 hours.

"Hello, is anyone there?"

No reply. This was getting tiring, more so she was getting tired. Clara's mind had been running at full speed for too many days. Sleep was finally knocking on her door, no more counting sheep. If whomever was on the phone didn't say something soon, she was going to take the upper hand and hang up.

She knew. Right when she answered the phone she could tell that it was Timothee. The girl had always been able to tell whenever he called, when he was around, when he entered a room. She always could tell it was him.

"Clara," the voice had gotten her out of the daze she was in, "I just- I just needed to talk to you."

"Timothee, I don't know if we have anything left to say."

God, this conversation was hard. They always had something to say to each other. But now, she was twisted in the uncomfortable hotel bed sheets, and he wasn't there next to her.

"No, I just need to talk," he let out a breath at the last word, "I regret it all."

The brunette's heart dropped to her stomach. What did he regret?

"I regret breaking your heart the way I did, but I need you to know that my heart is breaking right now too. It was a mistake. I shouldn't have left you the way I did," he was getting restless, "I shouldn't have left you at all."

"Timothee, I'm not quite sure I understand. You took me to the city of love, on our anniversary, to break things off. Yet now you're calling, telling me that you didn't mean anything you said."

Clara was sick and tired of pretending to be fine. He had left her, alone. This wasn't something that the two could sort out through a brief phone call.

"I love you."

He had never said those eight letters to her before, and now he was doing it through the phone, much less after they broke up.

She allowed him to continue speaking.

"I love you so much, but I'm so scared. I've never felt this way towards anyone before, and I don't want the love I have for you to be tainted by anyone or anything. I thought that breaking things off would save both of us in the end, but I was so wrong. I can't imagine life without you, Clara."

They were both crying now. She just knew that he was crying, his labored breaths were the tell.

"I never left Paris. I couldn't do it," Timothee went on, "I couldn't leave you alone in a different place without anyone. Hell, I wouldn't have been able to leave you at our apartment alone. So now, I'm sitting in some random hotel lobby, making this phone call because I knew it couldn't wait till morning."

"What hotel?"

These were the first words she had uttered in a while, her voice scratchy.

"Le Bristol," Timothee whispered.