Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

14

        The next morning, I wake up in confines to the sound of a catastrophe.

There is a lot of shouting and even more screaming and the retaliations are harsher, barrelling into my ears, threatening to shatter their fragile frame. I don't know who is being so loud but I want them to stop and when I raise my head to acknowledge the persons, I bump my head on what I later come to see is a bed frame.

It doesn't take a genius to realize where I am—under a bed—and when I draw my eyes open, my head pounds and I see feet, which seem to be taking on an enraged persona of their own.

A woman is talking frantically about newspaper headlines and how nothing can justify it and I begin to wonder how a newspaper headline can cause such a ruckus. As far as I am concerned, those things are supposed to entice sympathy, not devastations. Everything feels ironic because what is happening here in this room right now is worse than a simple devastation, incomparable to hurricanes or tornados or tsunamis.

"They mean absolutely nothing," a boy shouts and I resist my urge to shout profanities because it sets my head ablaze.

"They obviously do, Manuel. Why else would she be here? You think I actually buy that she's Bastian's?" a feminine voice retorts. And then I know that Manuel's in this room. Which means that Kathrin is the one yelling and I am the subject: the catalyst of their petty argument.

"Kathrin," Manuel forcibly murmurs. He murmurs to her in a different way than he murmurs to me and he's calmer than she is but I can tell that he's angry. He doesn't murmur angrily to me and I know then that I never want him to. "Just take a deep breath, liebe. You're overthinking this and you know it."

Kathrin scoffs, angrily pacing to the other side of the room, her elongated heels clashing against the textured floor. "You're so full of shit, Neuer."

"Kathy—"

"Save it."

"I don't even know the girl," Manuel justifies and my jaw slightly stirs, threatening to drop. "I swear to fucking God, she means absolutely nothing to me." I don't really know what I am expecting from him, but it is definitely not this. "I met her through Bastian and if she's going to hurt our relationship like this, I can tell him to get her to get the hell out of my life."

My heart twists and turns and begins to hurt, the pain coursing through my veins in a fashion sharper than the one penetrating through my skull. I don't even know what my face looks like right now and I don't want to.

"You'd do that?" Kathrin says softly. "You'd get her out?"

"It's not a problem," he tells her.

And suddenly their legs are getting closer and they're brushing slightly and Kathrin is giggling like a bitch, putting me on edge. Her laughter is cynical and mean—the opposite of everything I thought it would be—and as it flows into my ears, I eradicate the previous notion I'd had about her being a flawless suit for Manuel.

"Get her out of the headlines," she says menacingly and then she's gone, closing the door behind her with a loud thud.

As soon as she leaves, Manu kicks the wall in frustration and releases his agony through a paroxysm of groans and sighs. Placing his hands on his head in helplessness, he releases yet another sigh, sauntering over to the bed. His legs cloud my vision and suddenly I'm wrapping my fingers around both of them, using their strength to slide out.

His eyes widen when he sees me. "Azelie—"

I smirk sadly. "You're gonna ask me to get the hell out of your life now?"