warning: sad ,depressing, angst but read it for the ending (I promise its good)
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Look at my man he is sooo adorable
baby badger love
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"I see you've decorated the place," he said, gesturing towards the world map. "I like it."
She put down the box and glared at him, trying to ignore how captivating he looked with the sunlight filtering through her new chiffon curtains, falling on his eyes and accentuating their dark hazel colour. She had the urge to scream at him; "Are you here to taunt me?" but nothing came out of her mouth. It was as though all the feelings bottled up inside of her for weeks have dissipated into thin air, leaving her standing in front of him, hollow chested and uncertain.
"How did you..." She cleared her throat, trying to regain composure. "How did you get in here?"
Daniel lingered at the doorway, his eyes flickering between her and the scattered boxes, falling on the ones he'd sent a fortnight ago. "You left the door open," he finally said. 'As always,'she imagined him adding.
She took a few steps towards him, strapping her arms together against her chest. "You should sit down," she mumbled softly, and, even though to him it looked as though she didn't want him there, Daniel walked briskly to the sofa left carelessly at the back of the room. He recognized it as the one she had in her old apartment; it looked sad and dejected here, covered with plastic saran wrap and devoid of the crocheted throw pillows her friend had gifted her for Christmas. He heard her say something about making coffee and looked up only to see the tail of her red maxi skirt swooshing out of the door, the sound of those worn sandals she loved to wear flip-flopping annoyingly against the ceramic tiles of her new home.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the marble counter and watched her paint-splattered fingers tremble after turning on the coffee maker. Her eyes instantly traveled to the calendar stuck to her fridge, to that date marked dolefully with a yellow highlighter. It's been six weeks, she counted, six weeks since that guy and the fight, six weeks of not seeing Daniel, six weeks passing by without going to his games and without him congratulating her on her birthday. And now he was here, he had stood in front of her, only an arms-length between them, and for once she understood that eye roll-worthy phrase that made her recoil when reading it in a novel or hearing it in a film; so close yet so far away. She shook her head as she turned to take the mugs.
When she came back, he was still looking at that black and white world map suspended on the wall crookedly. He remembered when she bought it from a souvenir shop in Strasbourg, and how they went back to their hotel room and coloured the countries they'd traveled to together in blue; France, Japan, England, and Belize. He recalled regretfully how they'd been planning their trip to Cape Town before...that night. He didn't understand why she had it up there in a new house, where she was supposed to start afresh. He had begun to ask her about that when a waft of her perfume mixed with the rich scent of the coffee struck him, and he swallowed, trying hard to keep it from dizzying him.
The shrill sound of cardboard scraping the floor broke through the heavy silence as she pulled one of the taped-up boxes to sit on. He looked at her then, sipping on her coffee and taking swift glances at him from behind her mug. They sat there for a while, speechless and heavy-hearted, but it was a comforting and serene sort of silence, the one he was used to with her. Then she asked him how he was, and they fell into a circle of small talk until their conversation faltered off and muted once more.
She took a deep breath, the question turning over and echoing in her head. "Why are you here, Daniel?" she asked finally.
Truthfully, she didn't expect that slow shrug and doubtful pout, and him saying, "I wanted to see you," with an air of indifference as if she surely should have known that.
"Did you get my letters?" she uttered suddenly. The broken words were laced with embarrassment, her ears going pink as she bit on her bottom lip, waiting for a response.
"Yes," Mats spoke quietly, fondling the handle of the steaming mug. "I thought about what you said..." His voice faltered as he looked out the window, where a tree's branches swayed lazily with the October wind, the sun creeping in through the holes in the blanket they'd created. He'd thought about what she said. "I don't know if it's because of the power of your writing," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Or if it's because I was actually being ridiculous and I only realized it now, but I...I overreacted and I'm...sorry."
She'd been longing to hear these words for days and nights that molded into each other into one long chain. She'd spent hours in her bed staring at the ceiling and imagining him saying variations of the sentences he'd just uttered to her. But the words had left his mouth rather fruitlessly, leaving her blinking at him and waiting for that magical, miraculous thing to happen.
"I shouldn't have doubted you; I should have listened when you tried to tell me that nothing happened with you and that...guy," he breathed, refraining from cursing. "But to say that was the only issue we had would be insane."
She knew it was coming, she'd expected it. "I know," she nearly shouted, "That night I- I said a lot of things I shouldn't have said...things I didn't mean to say," she corrected herself.
"I did too," he whispered, wishing she would come to sit next to him and play with his hair and kiss him like she always did. This was the height of missing her, sitting in front of her and not being able to touch her and tell her how much he'd been yearning to be with her. But his pride held him back, forcing him to watch her breakaway right there before his eyes. He could tell she was tearing up and hiding it from him, her voice fracturing when she spoke next.
"So, what now?" she asked, clapping her hands together.
Mats leaped to where she was, kneeling beside her on the cold floor, looking up at her tear-stained face. "A number of things."
He took her hand, pleased to see her entwining her fingers with his. And although it's been over for six weeks, it still felt as familiar as ever to hold her hand. "First, you forgive me,"
She finally broke into a smile, leaving his heart feeling like it was about to burst with the sun. "Done,"
It was his turn to beam at her; "After that, we unpack these boxes." He said and she nodded.
"Then, we take this mattress and we baptize it."
She shook her head as she swatted his hands away from her and giggled. Her laugh rung through his ears pleasantly, washing over him blissfully. "I love you,Ric," she said as she wrapped her arms around him, his head buried in her coconut-scented hair.
"I love you," he closed his eyes and breathed her in, feeling her bones under his once more. "And I'm sorry, again."
