𝕤𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠 • 𝕝.𝕙

thirty-nine

Once I got home after the whole Luke fiasco, the night still young and early, Andy had asked me if I wanted him to stay. I had politely declined, knowing that I needed some time for myself to process whatever had happened. 

I sat on my bed, my bedroom window wide open. All I could hear were people in the street and car noises. The night had fallen hours ago, but it still felt cool enough to enjoy this Friday night. I wasn't, though. I was supposed to, but the night had been cut short. Just my luck to bump into my ex while trying to forget about it all. It felt as if the universe was sending me signs, signs that I didn't want to read, because they were far too painful. Of course I wanted to talk to Luke. Of course I wanted to throw myself into his arms. But this couldn't be anymore, and I needed to get used to it.

I took a drag of my cigarette, staring at the wall. Fuck. This felt lonely, again. I was starting to wonder whether the loneliness was following me, or if it was all my fault, me taking it with me wherever I went. Whether it was Portland or San Francisco, tonight felt the same as all of those other nights. 

Was there any way I would ever do something right? Was there a chance for me to finally redeem myself and feel free? This was getting long, now. This was getting incredibly tiring. Maybe I just needed therapy. Most likely did, actually.

How was I to move on from this short and intense relationship if it was clear that we still wanted each other? Could the ghost of whatever was ever be tamed and leave me alone, leave him alone? Why was I craving the toxicity of the situation so badly? Why did being in pain make me feel alive? I feel like I was drowning, but I knew that I subconsciously wanted things to stay that way. Because it was Luke. And it was me.

I looked down at my phone screen. I had two texts. My stomach dropped again. I felt like I was going to throw up again.

Luke:

I'm so confused

Luke:

I'm sorry if I ruined your night

When I read the messages, tears started flowing out of my eyes. Fuck. This is what it felt like to be heartbroken. To know that something was bad for both of us, but still wanting to run towards it. Still wanting to feel what we once felt. Wanting to be on the other side and say that it was okay, that we'd just try again, that this would get fixed if both of us tried hard enough.

But this was just fantasy. I didn't deserve Luke. I had hurt him too much for things to ever work out in a healthy way. I had participated in breaking his friendship with Calum. I had made him feel less than he deserved. 

How could somebody ever love me again when I was that much of a mess? How did I deserve anything? I was poison.

I tried not to hyperventilate, trying to type in an answer.

Me:

You didn't. Sorry

I pressed send, and took a big breath, still completely overwhelmed by the thought of him. How awkward were things? How stupid was this situation? How easy could it have been to just tell him that I should never be allowed near him again? But I wanted to be near him. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did. I fucking did.

I couldn't be trusted to have a good thing. I wouldn't be able to help myself from demolishing it.

My phone lit up with his name again. He was calling. My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing got more shallow. I didn't want to pick up, but everything inside of me was telling me to. I remembered the last time we had spoken on the phone. It hadn't ended up well. So what was I to do, now? Respond? Ignore? Pretend I was gone? Act as if I was asleep?

As the third ring began, I picked up the phone and put it to my ear. I was shaking.

"Hey," I said. My voice broke.

"Hey," he just responded.

None of us said anything for a good ten seconds. I wasn't sure whether he had hung up or not. I checked my screen to verify that he hadn't. Still on the line.

"What is it?" I asked. 

"I don't really know," he responded. "I felt like I should call, you... You wouldn't talk to me earlier."

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think this would have been good... For either of us."

"Maybe I shouldn't have called."

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have," I breathed out.

No sound for another five seconds.

"Are you back for the weekend, then?"

"I live here, now."

"What? You've moved back?" he sounded confused. "When?"

"Before the end of last year," I shifted on my bed, now laying down. "Portland didn't work out."

"That sucks," Luke said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It took everything in me not to call you."

I could hear him chuckle. "You should have."

"I don't think so, Luke."

He stayed silent for a moment. "You're probably right, you know."

"I don't think this can ever work out again," I murmured, feeling brave, suddenly. Maybe that was good! Maybe we needed to talk about it!

"I know. You're... you're right. It was bad. It was a bad relationship."

Hearing him saying that hurt, just a little bit. "Mostly, it was."

"I don't know why I always end up crawling back to you, Lex. I just don't know," he said. "It's like... It's... You make me so mad, you make me crazy. But I want you. I just want you so bad that it feels like it's killing me."

I wanted to cry. It felt as if all the lights were going out around us, that the world was stopping, the everything around the both of us was burning. Catching on fire. Like the only thing that I could see was him and me. Hands tied. Together.

"I'm sorry."

"I can't do... I just..." he caught his breath. He obviously was unwell. "Lex..."

"Luke, I'm sorry."

"Nothing is... Like... Time is not watering things down like it should do... We'll never get it right... Never. We will never get it right," he sniffled. "This shouldn't be this hard. We... We shouldn't hurt this bad."

"Listen to me, Luke," I was trying hard not to cry. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"Please come over. We can talk things through."

"I shouldn't, Lex..." he replied. "I don't think..."

"This is the last time, I promise," I said. I was desperate for him to be here. "We don't have to do anything... You don't have to say anything. We need to talk. Please come."

"Okay," he breathed out. I could hear him sniffling. "The last time. We can't... We can't keep doing this."

"The last time," I repeated. "I'll text you my address."