Three Phantoms of You [bxb]

Room Alone

Nolan:

He didn't come.

Hours had ended while his presence still failed to linger where he promised it to. I kept waiting for him at the cafe until my shift ended, yet he couldn't fulfill what's been affirmed.

I should've known he wouldn't come. I mean, he didn't even bother texting me again throughout the entire day, and he left my message as the last.

I try not to be too disappointed as I walk myself out of the cafe and into my apartment.

He probably realized it would be better for us not to meet. He doesn't want to. Even this morning, I felt like I forced him into talking. Yet, why do I feel sad knowing I waited? Even as the clock hit 6 p.m., I thought he would burst into the shop, as he always does, but he didn't.

Keys clamor against each other as I pick them out of my pocket to open my apartment. It's just a small room I rented beside the motel because it's the cheapest I can find. The space is small, and my things are still everywhere, even though I moved out a month ago.

I feel better. I'd rather this than stay unsheltered, walking on the streets every night anyway.

I throw my bag on the side of my bed and take off my shirt that stifles sweat from an all-day shift. I don't really want to think about the day too much; just rest. Plus, the bed easily absorbs all my unconformity as I lay on my back, facing the ceiling.

Even as I try to restrict myself from talking to him, I can't. I want to at least know where we stand and if there's any more bad blood between us. I hate him. However, my body has other feelings towards him, and it moved itself away from where I'm positioned and got my phone from my bag.

It's already vibrating inside its cloth, waiting for me to pick up its calling. It couldn't be anyone else, really, because Kiev is the only one in my contacts, so I couldn't help but wish it wasn't him.

"Where are you? Are you still there?" He asked instantly as I swiped up.

God. I hadn't heard him all day long, and this is what he asks me? As if he didn't know that it's already 8 p.m. and I've been out of my shift about two hours ago. "Yeah, I am. Only if I hadn't fucking left ages ago. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I know it's rude to talk to him like that, even though he sounds genuine, but he's literally on the verge of pissing me off again. "Shit," he reacts. "I'm heading there, right now."

I can't tell if he's serious or not, but he probably isn't because he won't catch anyone there this late. "Where did you go anyway?" I ask for clarity.

He sighs on the other side, probably in apology, as he speaks. "I took my friend home. He got heartbroken, so yeah," he admits.

"Why?" I continue to ask.

I know it's out of my place to know his friend's business, but when it comes to love, I can be a big help. Hell, I still somewhat remember all relationships in this world even before I left since I had to watch them one-by-one, and I easily sympathize with heartbreaks.

"It's nothing," he says.

I sigh, even if I want to know more. "Which friend? The blonde one?" I assumed, even if I'm not close to him.

I can hear his silent yes from the other side and couldn't help but feel confused.

How could he somehow be in love when I didn't sense any of it from him when he approached me at campus?

It's rare for that to happen, for me not to remember any of their history, but somehow, with him, it happened. Either he or she didn't receive love the way it was intended, never experienced it, or expressed love only on one side. And something tells me it's one of them.