𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐋𝐈𝐕

• 44 •

As I said: I hate flying. I hate planes, I hate having to book last minute tickets, I hate waiting, I hate hurried packing, I hate having to pay more money than necessary, and I hate anxiety so fucking much. But hate as I do on everything, I'd jump the clouds for Ralph. I'd run kilometers for that messy motherfucker, the same messy motherfucker who's the reason why my heart's beating like I did run kilometers when really all I did was stroll through security gates.

The past couple of hours were a haze—a dreamlike montage with skips and shitty transitions. As soon as the call ended, I booked the next available flight. It's easier said than done, not to mention expensive. Good thing I was with my parents. It's easy for me to admit that I still depend on them from time-to-time. That's their role, after all, to be there whenever you need them, whether you're one-month-old or forty. That's also why it took my mom all self-control in her body not to fly with me to see Ralph herself, Lauren's son-by-heart.

I must've forgotten a few things. Toothbrush, toothpaste, some shirts and pants. Whatever I left are the least of my concerns, however, as I pull my now-lighter luggage by its handle across the terminal. The place isn't as packed at is was last week. Of course, people would rather go forth and back some days before or after the holidays, not sixteen hours prior to New Year's Eve.

Walking further, refusing to be sidetracked by a smoothie stand, I scanned the place for a familiar friend—a friend who I'd forgiven the moment I snapped at him. He shouldn't be hard to miss. My phone vibrated in my pocket, only stopping when I tapped the green button.

"Hello? Where are you?" Adil's voice was nearly inaudible with the chatter in the background. We're in the same room, I inferred.

I glanced around for a marker. "Beside a column with an ad for..." I narrowed my eyes at the sign, "condoms."

"Look for condoms," Adil spoke, "got it."

So look for condoms he did. Not a while later, a man in black and grays came into view. The smile he wore was perfect—not too big, not too small. I mustered one myself for etiquette's sake. It was also an indication that we're on normal terms again—normal being friendly. In spite of Keenan's absence, I think that's all Adil can ever be to me: a friend.

He took care of my bags for me and I was in no mood to tell him that I can do it myself because yes, I can do it myself, but did I want to? nope. I walked beside Adil, hugging myself. It's snowing and I have no coat nor jacket since I came from a place that requires none of those.

My eyes were on the floor the entire time. Adil spoke as he put my bag in the backseat of Hannibal, "The party he went to, he was in a group of friends with my neighbor." Ralph and his fucking parties. I should've seen it coming.

"Nothing serious, right?" I mumbled as we rounded the car, me opening the door and taking shotgun, "You're sure?"

It took him a while to answer and I did not like it at all. Adil turned the key and the engine roared—can't think of any other term. It roared. The sound was mean in comparison to Lemon's starting squeak. I miss Lemon. I stared ahead, hands fiddling with the sleeves of my sweater, a foot tapping, teeth nibbling. I was as anxious as a readable person could get.

"Uh-huh," he said, putting his hands on the wheel, "Don't worry, Gia. He'll just need rest." I didn't believe Adil.

I truly should have seen it coming. The drinking, the violence, the shitty fucking car with shitty fucking tires. And if I had seen it coming, I would've done everything in my power to lock Ralph in his apartment for the whole month. Then this would've been avoided. I expected myself to be frustrated—more frustrated than sad. Frustrated to the point where I want to rip Ralph's liver off. Instead, I'm sad. Because frustration will get me nowhere. Sadness will give me empathy. And if I know Ralph, he wouldn't appreciate it if I storm to the hospital just to slap his chest for being irresponsible. I think.