romeo + juliet ↠ l.h

36

I didn't have time to process the pain of what just happened. He didn't plead with me. He didn't ask for forgiveness. He didn't even actually explain.

Maybe he knew we were both too trashed to understand.

Or maybe it was truly the end.

I had gotten through it once and made it out alive. I didn't know if I could do it again.

I watched him smoke his cigarette, a habit the old Luke would never take up.

"You shouldn't smoke in someone else's house." At this point, I was just talking to say something. As if the countless intoxicated bodies in the living room weren't doing the same thing. Nothing could be worse than the heart wrenching silence he would put me through if I let him.

"Good thing this is my house."

Another reminder of what my dad took from him. Maybe if my dad hadn't done what he did, Luke would be put up in a high rise somewhere with all the money and weed and cigarettes he could ask for rather than some small house in a questionable neighborhood.

Fuck it. I just need to get out of here. My head was swimming in a familiar feeling, the alcohol getting to me.

I reached for the door handle, the cigarette smoke filling the air and undoubtedly making my clothes smell like it as well.

"Can we talk?" Luke's voice was barely audible, but it was there.

"There's nothing for us to talk about." I reluctantly took my hand off of the door handle, unsure if I was going to give in.

"I owe you." His words were more clear now, as if the last twenty minutes had sobered him up. They hadn't done the same for me.

He didn't wait for me to reply. My hesitance to leave this humid, smoke filled bathroom was a reply.

I watched as he let his body slide down the wall until he sat on the tile floor, his legs outstretched and taking up half of the bathroom.

I joined him against the wall as I slid down next to him, feeling the touch of a stranger when his shoulder bumped mine. The lit cigarette in his left hand was soon in my hand as I brought it to my lips and took a drag.

"I'm sorry."

"You've said that." I uttered.

A long exhale came from next to me as he put his face in his hands.

"I went to boarding school. I got into some bad habits. I didn't have a phone so I-" he started.

"You could've found a way to reach out." I cut him off.

"I smoke a lot of pot, Em. I drink a lot. By the time I graduated, I became this." he motioned to himself, as if he had no control over the person he became, "I thought it would be unfair to put you through my shit. My parents split up and then I started selling to make rent. My grandparents give me some but it's not enough and I-"

"Selling what?" I once again cut him off.

"Mostly weed. Sometimes acid." he hung his head as he spoke.

The boy in front of me was not the carefree, private school kid I knew. He ditched his satin button ups and Prada shoes for scuffed boots and plain hoodies, another reminder of my dad's wrongdoing.

"And by the time I was going to come find you, and I swear to God, Em, I had saved up for a plane ticket, I realized this isn't what you need." he spoke as if this was the last conversation we'd ever have. I could hear it in his voice.

"That wasn't for you to decide. I was miserable for months. I am miserable." I attempted to hide the tears that had once again pooled in my eyes.