Flowergirl

✿✽❀~ eleven ~❀✽✿

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As someone who never usually took chances and liked to live inside of his comfort zone, I had always dreamt that the day I finally took a leap, in whatever aspect of my life, a door would be opened. A door that would allow be to finally be a more bold and headstrong person. A door that would finally allow me to stop being Miles Lee: the fucking wimp who couldn't find a date for the bloody year 11 dance so he just stayed home and watched old episodes of The Bachelor with his mum.

Never in a million years had I thought that when I was finally bold and took a chance, it would push me 100 steps back in the direction from which I'd come.

I was past being shy. I was past being timid. I just felt numb.

Mum told me that this was what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, that it's normal. But how can waking up in the middle of the night with sweat rolling down my back because my ribs are suffocating my lungs be normal? How can seeing one face—only one face—in every single dream for a week straight be normal?

I wanted to get Juliet out of my mind, I really did, but I needed closure first. Without it, the dread I felt seemed to be eating its way into my relationship with every other person—i.e. my mum.

I thought that maybe if I could try and force myself into hating Juliet, then it would make things easier, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself hate someone that I was in love with. I felt guilty, like I had to apologize to her for what had happened even though my logical mind was telling me that it was both our faults. After all, she had let me kiss her and not mentioned her boyfriend, but I also hadn't given her much of a choice. My hands were on her, I was pulling her to me and leaning in towards her, there was nowhere for her to go.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I had decided that I would apologize to her, and then never bother her again. There was no more taking chances for me. She had a boyfriend. She was happy, and I didn't want to ruin that for her. I would rather she be happy with the bloke than miserable with me, and so I got out of bed in the morning, cleaned up my horrific bedhead, and came downstairs much earlier than she usually arrived.

I wanted to be ready when she came, ready enough to say what I had to say without embarrassing the both of us.

Mum was already in the kitchen cooking when I came down, and I could smell the sweet scent of pancakes and coconut all the way from the stairs.

I plastered a smile on my face and walked into the kitchen. "What's for brekkie?" I asked.

Mum seemed startled to see me and almost dropped the spatula she was holding. "Oh! Miles, you scared me! I didn't expect you to be up so early."

Translation: 'You're not still in your bed wallowing in sorrow? Oh, and you've finally taken a shower? Great!'

I nodded and hopped up onto the counter, sitting on it as I watched her cook. This was just like old times, except today, I knew that those weren't regular Saturday's lamington pancakes, they were pity pancakes.

Oh well, food is food I guess.

Mum was going on about something as she cooked, and even though I was nodding and 'hmm'ing at the right times, I think we both knew my mind was elsewhere. In only an hour, Juliet would be here and I would finally talk to her after last week's disaster. I would face up to the demon that had been eating away at me for the past week. The beautiful doe-eyed, brown-skinned demon.