Oblivious

35 // Pretty brown eyes

Mauerbauertraurigkeit
(n.) the inexplicable urge to push people away; even close friends or people you like

-Elijah-

I can't breathe.

I'm breathless and it's not the same way I'm normally breathless around her.

This is different.

I don't like it.

I don't like the way my lungs have collapsed and my throats growing tighter. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until all that's left is pathetic pants.

I don't like how hot my skins feel, how fast my bloods pumping. So fast I can hear it in my ears, feel it in my veins.

I don't like how my eyes are watering.

"Elijah."

My heart stops and constricts and not in the way it normally does when she says my name.

This is different.

A hand grips my wrist, urges me to spin around. I can do nothing but shove against it. She stumbles back slightly. "Don't fucking touch me."

It's harsh and rough and not at all how I thought I'd ever talk to her.

To Elora.

My Daze.

But this is different.

She stands in my front of me, blinks twice. I can do nothing but stare and seethe.

Because she standing in front of me, half dressed, and all I can think about is her and him. Standing too close, him leaning in, her half naked.

Her and him. Together. After she kissed me.

"It's not what you think." It's soft and easy and is said in a way that makes me want to give in. But I can't. That's what everyone says.

It's not what you think my fucking ass.

"Fuck off Elora." It's whispered and hollow and my eyes sting.

"Elijah please." She reaches out, nearly touches me, I jerk back away from her.

"God, you're pathetic." Is what comes out, what I really mean is 'God, I'm pathetic."

Pathetic for thinking this could be possible.

For thinking someone like her could ever like someone like me.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for falling.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Biting my cheek I try and find the will to turn around. But she's stills standing there staring at me and I can't.

I'll never be able to walk away from her.

Which is a different kind of pathetic.

Because she had no problem walking away from me to go and find him.

Was it intentional? Did she plan to find him when she left me? Or was it coincidental? Did she just bump into him and somehow find herself between his legs?

Either way she was there, sat on the counter as he closed in on her and she smiled up at him and I still want to be sick.

I watch as she takes a step back, bites her own cheek, tears gathering in her pretty brown eyes.

Subconsciously I take a step towards her, my arms reaching out to comfort her.

Then he steps outside, holding her dress in one hand, a t-shirt in the other, and my insides harden all over again.