everything platonic ✓

chapter 2

Another One of Those Days

It's one of those days, the kind that slips by in a haze of nothingness, each second stretching out into eternity, heavy with the weight of things unsaid. Rosie's sitting next to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her arm against mine, but she's distant, her eyes fixed on some point far away, her expression unreadable.

I want to reach out, to touch her, to tell her that I'm here, that I see her, that whatever it is she's carrying, she doesn't have to carry it alone. But the words catch in my throat, heavy and useless, like stones that refuse to be moved. So I sit there, silent and helpless, watching her slip further away, knowing that I'm powerless to stop it.

She's been different lately, quieter, more withdrawn, like there's something weighing her down that she can't shake off. I've seen the marks on her arms, faint lines that crisscross her skin, a map of pain she's too proud to show. I've seen the way she flinches when someone touches her, the way her eyes go blank when she thinks no one's looking, like she's somewhere else entirely, somewhere dark and distant.

I know I should say something, should reach out and pull her back, but I'm afraid. Afraid that if I push too hard, she'll slip through my fingers, disappearing into the shadows she keeps hidden from everyone, even me. So I sit there, silent and useless, hoping that somehow, she'll find her way back on her own.

The day drags on, each second stretching out like an eternity, until finally, she turns to me, her eyes dark and unreadable, and says, "Do you ever feel like you're just...not enough?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and painful, and I feel something inside me break, a fracture that splits my heart open and leaves it bleeding. I want to tell her that she's more than enough, that she's everything, that she's the only thing that makes the world feel bearable. But I can't. The words stick in my throat, choking me, and all I can do is nod, hoping that somehow, she understands.

She looks at me, her eyes dark and sad, and for a moment, I think she's going to say something, something that will bridge the gap between us, something that will make the ache in my chest bearable. But then she looks away, her gaze fixed on some distant point, and I know that whatever it is she's carrying, she's not ready to share it. Not yet.

And so we sit there, two broken pieces of something that used to be whole, bound together by silence and regret, each of us waiting for the other to speak, to reach out, to break the spell that holds us in place.

But the words never come. They linger in the space between us, unspoken and unfinished, a promise that neither of us is brave enough to keep. And as the day slips into night, I feel her slipping further away, like a ghost fading into the dark, leaving me with nothing but the memory of her touch, the echo of her laughter, and the bitter taste of regret.