GONER

36 • Troubled Navigation Of Human Beings

A/N: The question is, "what the fuck are you doing, Amara?"

***

It was the 24th day of Josh being gone, when he showed up. Not at school, and not at a store, but at my house. On the front step my porch, on a Wednesday afternoon.

It was four, and I had just finished crying from exhaustion in the shower, when a knock sounded on our front door. I didn't care enough about who it was to put on actual clothes, and my mom at work, and so I walked down the stairs with sweatpants slung low on my narrow hips, with absolutely nothing covering my torso. Had I known who it was, I wouldn't have answered the door at all.

So with little regard for the possibility that it could very well be my boyfriend, or whatever he was now, I swung the door open.

And, very suddenly, Josh was the everything, and anything else was the nothing.

He was standing on my front porch with a huge bouquet in his shaking hands, and his wide brown eyes situated on mine, the air between us growing insanely heavy. His face was concerned and careful, and he looked at me silently, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I could tell. He was doing that stupid single glance that made me fall apart in his dumb hands, but he conveniently forget that I held that power, too.

I didn't even know what to say to him, now that I've spent three weeks feeling his absence like a knife in my chest, and I raised my eyebrows at him, pressing my lips into a thin line. What he was expecting was unknown to me, and I just slumped against my doorframe, as uncomfortable and angry as ever when a situation like this arose.

He cleared his throat, holding the flowers in front of him. They were red and yellow, and the colors were insanely bright. Very bright and very pretty. "I, uh. I suck at things like this, but I'm really sorry. I didn't. I was being dumb, and I didn't mean to." His voice was low, and almost inaudible, but his cheeks were red and his eyes were cautious. I didn't know what to think, because my heart was hammering in my chest like some sort of sadistic drum, and should I forgive him? But, the question really, is if he had even done anything wrong. Most of the time, it wasn't anyone else's job to determine whether or not someone was truly at fault, but I felt like he was leaving it up to me.

"I just needed some t-time to asses what was going on," he admitted. "And so, I did what I always do, and ran, and that is not okay." A small grin bloomed on his face, a sad one, and he shook his head down at the concrete. "But, you know what they say about pain. People run from it, don't they? And it was almost too much to handle, s-seeing you like that. So I ran to Indianapolis again, because that's literally the only place in the world, that you're not in, that makes me feel safe and...meaningful."

I stayed silent, tilting my head to the side slightly, even though the things coursing through my brain made me want to cry. One side of me was telling me not to listen to him, and to slam the door in his face, and go back inside, and forget he was alive. The other side, though, was telling me take the flowers, and kiss him like he was everything I was ever going to need.

"I don't think you understand how often I look at you and think what the fuck do I do now?, because I've never felt like this a-about anyone, and it would be really great if you'd accept this apology." He breathed, slumping his shoulders forward. "And these flowers. I don't even know what kind they are, but I hoped you could figure it out. S-sorry."

I debated on whether or not to answer him, but decided I would. "Daisies," I muttered. "They're daisies."

He gave me a small smile, biting at his lip, nodding. "I knew you would know what they were, which is why I didn't buy roses. Wanted to challenge you a bit?