𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter twenty-nine: let 'em in❜❜

The windows were lit up, and I saw her figure dancing on the other side. I could lightly hear music playing and her soft voice chirping. The brick walls of the apartment were covered in moss and vines. It was pleasing to look at, just like her. The gutter leaked a rhythmic drop in a puddle. The steps up were just like they had been the night we had that big fight— The night I'd slapped her. That was the biggest mistake I'd made; It changed everything. My nervousness swept over like a riptide, pulling me under, drowning me. I tried swallowing, but my throat was still dry. I didn't really have any clue as to what I was going to say. I knew I had to apologize, but from there, I was lost. I was usually pretty good with making it up as I went. I walked up the stairs and stared at the door; It was red, paint chipping just slightly. The iron numbers on it were also rusting somewhat.

I sucked in a heavy breath, "'Ere goes nothin'."

I rapped my knuckles on the door. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as I waited. Soon enough, the entry swung open, and I saw her beautiful smile. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that looked to be Ash's with no pants on. Her thighs looked great, so no complaints.

"Isaiah-" She then refocused her eyes, "John?"

I was a little bitter that she seemed disappointed by my arrival. How could she mistake me for that bastard? I look nothing like him.

"What do ya want?" Her smile instantly faded.

The music in the background represented her old mood. I looked around nervously. My mouth didn't seem to want to move.

"Cat got yer tongue?" She gave me a disinterested look.

I cleared my throat once and tried to find my voice. Her brown-greenish eyes scanned over me like she was expecting something. I guess I would expect something too.

"I-I just wanted to apologize about... Paul's birthday. For hitting Isaiah," I knew I wasn't really sorry about that.

If I had been actually sorry about it, I would've said something sooner, and I think she knew that. But it was the thought that counts, and I came here to make amends. I looked into her eyes as she seemed to be processing what I said. She was probably trying to decide if she should hear me out or kick me down the steps.

She crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe, "Why are you apologizing now."

I lied, "I've felt real terrible about it."

I did feel bad, but not for that reason. I felt bad because I had pissed her off so much. I couldn't give a flying fuck what ol' Dean thought.

"You should," She pursed her lips, "You gave him a nasty bruise. Yer lucky he doesn't get angry quickly; Otherwise, you'd be sharing ozzy beds with Wooler."

The fact she thinks he would beat me in a fight is cute but highly ignorant. I'd have him dead before he even scratched me.

"Okay, so you apologized, you can go now. Ta ta," She shooed me away.

My eyes widened; This was not how this was supposed to go. Liz started to shut the door on me.

I pressed my hand on it, "Wait, but I tho-"

"Thought you could come in and have a cup of tea? Discuss and gossip?" She sassed, "What part of 'I don't want to be anywhere near you,' do you not understand?"

I tried to explain, "I just wanted to maybe fix this."

"Why don't you do that... Somewhere else! Hey, and while I have you, 'ere's the stupid bloody jacket that you seemed to want so badly," She grabbed it off of the coat rack and threw it at me, "Although I do distinctly remember you saying that it might as well be mine. Silly little recollection isn't it. Now buh-bye."