Worth The Fight ✓

Chapter Thirty Four

QUOTE OF THE CHAPTER:

"And I realized that there's a big difference between deciding to leave and knowing where to go."
― Robyn Schneider, The Beginning Of Everything

Dedication: @efflorescences (she is one of the best people I've ever met.)

Thanks to Miksh for the amazing banner at the side!
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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

It takes me two and a half hours to have the guts to knock on his front door.

I remember how I called here a second home, in fact, a family. My feelings have never changed-though the relationship between me and Calvin has faded away-and I still love Sue as a sister. It has been more than three weeks since I last saw her and I genuinely missed her. Now, knocking on the door, I wish it would be her who answers the door.

Though, it's Calvin Gilmore. Probably expecting someone else or none at all, my appearance wipes off the slight smile on his face. He freezes for a second, which feels like a long time, and stands at the doorway cluelessly. Then, his eyes wanders around my face, the fresh scars that I left on my face hours ago and I wonder what's going through his mind. His face finally shows an expression, seemingly pity, and he breathes out a sigh. "Why are you here?" He asks flatly, his eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to look at me.

"Isn't it obvious?" There are many replies I can give at the moment, from begging for forgiveness to explaining myself. But I choose to play a game, instead. The dumbest thing I've done in my life is to not be able to forget the boy who called me a slut just because I deserved it - I would accept that we weren't meant to be-which is wrong-or that I fucked the only chance I've had. But hope is a tricky feeling and it gets under your skin in the first glimpse.

"What happened to your face?" He asks in a tone that, while worried, gives the vibe of distance. I actually expect him to ask while I am at his door but he's being Calvin once again. I look at him in the eyes and after a short while, he looks elsewhere, breaking the eye contact. It feels like he can't even make an eye contact with me for a long time and it stings right in the left part of my body.

"Got into a fight," I say, shrugging as if it's a routine-yet it was before he's been a part of my life. It was even how we've met in the first place. Thinking about it, I feel so bitter at that moment. If only he knew how I felt and counted the days we are separate.

"So," he trails off, as if expecting me to tell something. "Why are you here?"

"I - uh,"-I step closer to him which causes him to back away-"Help me."

"Help you?"

"I know we are not in the best terms right now, but for the sake of our past-"

"Come in," he sighs, gesturing me in. "This is for the feelings I once felt for you." His words hang in the air, as I reach to the living room, and I don't dare to look back to see his face. He once felt for me - I've taken enough grammar lessons to get that means no longer he does. I sit down on the edge of their couch, which I made out with him or played with Sue or chatted with his family, as if it's the first time.

He comes with bandages, cotton and stuff, and sits down beside me warily. He picks up a cotton and starts to clean my face, the other hand holding me under my chin. It hurts a bit, and I am proud of myself for being able to punch myself, but I don't make a sound. He looks at me in the eyes and, focuses on my lips afterwards-not to kiss but to clean-and nobody says anything until he breaks the silence. "Does it hurt?" I want him to ask again but not that.