reattachment - matt sturniolo

chapter three

(different pov ;))

i wasn't used to this.

i stared up at my ceiling, the darkness melting into languid, amorphous shapes before scattering to the edges of my peripherals to gather again. my clock showed the wee hours of the morning, signaling that if sleep hadn't come by now, there was a slim chance it ever would.

i sighed, rolling onto my side to fumble for my phone on my pathetically bare bedside table. i squinted at the initial brightness, then took in the simple photo that had been my background for ages. my brothers and i, arms around each other and smiling cheerily, all in front of a horizon that could be anywhere from wisconsin to timbuktu. on the surface it was such a nice picture. sibling love paired with picturesque scenery. nothing better.

but when i looked closer, the details started to emerge, along with the memories from that day: the strained lines at the corner's of nick's mouth, turning his grin into a grimace, a dimpling of the fabric of my shirt where chris's arm was slung around me, showing the ferocity of his grasp. my eyes, glazed over and focused not on the camera, but not anything else, either. a blank stare at absolutely nothing at all.

we had been at each other's throats for some reason or another (forced proximity paired with reluctance to meet literally anyone new had a way of doing that), and tensions had reached a boiling point. when our mother had calmly but firmly asked us to get out of the car so we could take a picture, lives, or at least egos, had been saved.

after a few more snide comments and grumbling whines, my brothers had mellowed out, retreating to their phones to wait out the rest of the ride. but i had still sat there, rigid, with nothing to blame my attitude on.

stress had always been my constant companion, the ever-present second opinion to any thought i could possibly conjure up. relaxation was a laughable notion, but i had come close a few times. driving around on the few trips and errands my parents let me take, allowing myself to savor whatever town we were in before hopping to the next. laying in one of my brothers's beds, hearing nothing but our syncopated breathing and shared experiences.

playing war with a girl who always came equipped with a scathing remark, a stick up her ass, and eyes that threatened to swallow me whole.

i exhaled, feeling my chest decompress, struggling to ground myself. i finally swiped the photo away, unlocking my phone, sliding to my messages, almost snorting at the emptiness displayed on screen. the only thing missing was a stray tumbleweed.

this was a bad idea. but i just couldn't help it. i scrolled past my parents and brothers, spam texts and business scams, finally clicking on a conversation that i could never continue.

i'm sorry we haven't been able to talk much. i miss you.

i miss you. miss was such a pithy word in comparison to what i felt. i felt out of place, and as someone who had never slept in the same bedroom for more than five months at a time, that was no small feat. i missed watching nick's face light up when they snickered at something together, when they shared conspiratorial whispers before glancing my way and giggling. i missed chris's goofy grin and endless affection, acting out in physicality what i kept in my head, his rambles that never failed to put a wary but indulgent smile on her face. i missed her hitching breaths and double takes when i caught her by surprise, when i got to pull myself back layer by layer, exposing the raw and sometimes bloody pieces of myself that i had never dreamt would see the light of day (or night, in her time zone).

i ached and i simmered and i shivered and i stung. i pleaded and i begged and i wished and i prayed. i waited and i waited and i waited and i waited for the right words to come.

but all i could put forward was i miss you.

the shadows of sleep finally coming resolved into a girl with a voice like fire and eyes like fathomless depths before sleep finally overtook me.