THIEF [S.M.]

fifteen

I didn't want to move from my spot on my couch when the knocks on my door boomed endlessly. Instead, I stared straight ahead, allowing the repetitive beating to become white noise. That, and the sound of the sink faucet still drip, drip, dripping.

My head rolled across my neck, slowly, rigidly as I examined the front door. Unbothered, nonetheless a victim to the constant pounding on the opposite side.

"Door's open," I called, weakly, carelessly.

I set my gaze back to the bookshelf across from me, specifically focusing on the paper spine of Misery by Stephen King. A favorite of mine.

The door swung open, crashing against the brick wall behind it, the loud noise resonating against the high ceilings.

"You were right." she said.

I could tell in the crack of her voice that she, herself was confused on how she felt. Was she upset? Was she angry? I couldn't quite tell either.

With the heel of her foot, she kicked the door closed. Still, I refused eye contact.

"Do you hear me? Shawn? You were right!" her voice had exponentially raised since her last remark. I'm going to go with angry.

I was angry too. With myself. I should've just left it alone. I figured that out for myself when their argument arose, hours before when it blossomed into a fight, with screaming and breaking things and it was all because of me. I kept making messes. I felt guilty.

Venus moved closer to the couch, closer to me. Although I wasn't as excited as I usually would be. My eyes were still twitching across the "P" in Stephen.

"We were happy. We were fine, and I didn't need to know about his past! I didn't need to know about the drugs and the stealing! He was the only good thing going in my life and now I'm not even sure if I'll ever see him again! Why do you have to insert yourself into every private thing in my life?!"

Her fists clenched and her body sunk, spilling onto the couch, a beautiful mess. When her hand merely grazed my own is when I glanced over at her, my heart plummeting into my stomach and my emotions surfacing, fought off by the warriors of my dignity.

"I don't know. Maybe it just..." she was whispering, curling a loose thread on the hem of her shorts between her fingers. "Maybe we weren't meant to be."

She sighed, her breath ricocheting off my arm and stimulating chills down my spine.

"Sorry," I announced, still neglectfully as I stood, making my way to my bedroom.

Yelling, again, she goes,"Wh-what? How can you be so callous?" She sat up on her knees, pressing her hands on the top of the furniture as she watched me walk towards the wide opening into my bedroom. "You obliterated my relationship, simply because of your own superficial, might I mention selfish liking towards me and now you leave me to suffer through it? You're a fucking tornado, and you just destroyed my--my temple!"

"Don't talk in metaphors when you're angry, V, it's hard for me to take you seriously," I deadpanned in return.

"Fuck you!" she spat, leaping over the couch to catch the door before it slid shut.

Acting as if she was none but a figment of my imagination, I proceeded to tug off my shoes and lie flat on my back on my bed, situating my hands under my pillow and staring up at the plain white ceiling.

She stormed inside, shoveling a pathway through the layer of dirty clothes and crumpled papers on the floor.

"I thought Arlo was my one chance at happily ever after! I thought he could be my first love! Now, thanks to you, all of that is squashed. I'm twenty-one years old! Is it not time for me to start planning a future?"

I gave no response.

"I want a family one day! A husband, some kids, maybe. And I thought I was in love with him. Don't you have at least a little sympathy for love?"

I looked at her, blinked, and fought the urge to touch her.

She stiffened at the sudden eye contact."What's your problem? Are you really this cold? Because if the answer is yes, I cannot believe I ever considered having feelings for you."

What?

Drawn back by her own comment, she cleared her throat, tears filling the rims of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, across her swollen lips and against the sleeve of her shirt.

That's when I let the sympathy paint across my face, but she didn't look at me. All she did was brush her hair from her face, sniffle, and crawl into the bed beside me.

She laid face up with her little hands on her stomach, feet crossed and still clad with her white converse at the end. She looked so heartbroken, yet so innocent, and I could feel what's left of my frigid heart melt.

"Maybe I sound crazy. But I did think Arlo was it." she sighed, defeated.

I rolled over, resting my head on her shoulder, gently, careful not to alarm her. She needed someone in her current state, and I, of course, was willing to be that someone. Her shoulder placed in the space between my nose and my forehead, I could feel her solidify, tensing up at the unusual sensation of our touch. Though, after a few seconds passed, she softened, positioning herself on her side, leaving our faces but inches away.

Her lips separated as though she was going to say something, but she didn't. I looked at her, plunging myself into the infinite yellow fields of her eyes, and she peered into mine. Something strange washed over me in this moment, and urged me to touch her cheek with the tips of my fingers, a quiet gasp erupting from her mouth. My thumb wiped at a tear that threatened to escape, and so much of her emotion flowed into me that I couldn't help but kiss her.

It took a moment before she decided to kiss me back, but when she did, I swear my heart was beating so hard it hurt, and my fingers went numb, and my stomach twisted and all I wanted in this moment was her, all of her. Every broken piece of her that was still scattered across the ground. All of the things that kept her up at night, or about the kind of day she'd had, I wanted to know about all of it. There was not a fraction of me that was unsure of it, I was completely, utterly, undeniably in love with this girl.