Alone [manxman]

twenty-two:: when things have to change to stay the same

TWENTY-TWO: when things have to change to stay the same.

I can't sleep.

Jules sleeps like a log.

He lays in bed, still, quiet. The same position we were in for an hour prior, staring at one another. I stay still locked in long after he's started snoring.  My lips are in a fine line, I'm sure my brows wrinkle. His eyes are closed shut with such peace, it consumes me almost.

He's so beautiful.
I think of everything again, it all comes rushing in at once.

I can't sleep.

Every time I try, I see her.

I can't stop thinking of Pete. He forgets he has a phone.

My dreams are too vivid.

Rilee says it's cause of my Pisces moon.

I'm overthinking. I try to stop, be mindful of where that brings me.

Jules seemed remorseful, as much as he could be as I pretended to sleep. It's so hard to be so self-indignant. I can't bear to see the way he looks at me. I hear the apologies as if they're still tumbling past his lips. He's shuffled in the quiet, brushes up at my cheekbone, it feels like another apology.

I try not to sink into it, my body does regardless, the second he's pulling away.

I remember the way he kissed me that night before, I can't tell how long I've been awake now, but it's like I can still taste him. Like mint, and the joint he smoked. It's crazy he'd need another.

I got in bed and he didn't follow. For an hour, then he did. I know because I could finally sleep when he got there, I'm grateful for it, because another fifteen minutes and I'd probably have let it all hit me so it didn't later. The material world doesn't matter to a bed sore.

My heart aches and I can't think of anything but vodka.

And Izzy.

I know Jules is talking with him.

I know they're communicating. Of course he's been distant, of course I've read their messages.

I'm not good at the letting go part and Izzy is not good at lying... but Jules just doesn't have the heartlessness to do that to me, I have to keep reminding myself.

I remember, in the middle of the night it feels, that Jules is outside.

I can see him behind my lids, he's in shorts, hugging himself. I know his nose is brushed up with rouge. I can see, almost, can smell the burning, hear the flick of his lighter.