you got me in love again

Two Sides of one Story

Leah's POV:

"You can't think that this was something serious for real? You were nothing but a good time to me.", I scoff. It breaks my heart doing this but it's for the best. I like her so much just after the short time we had together. I feel too much for our own good. Tonight, she will fly back to Germany, and I will stay here. Our lives are so different, even if it was not the distance, it wouldn't work out. I am doing it for the sake of both of us. It does not feel like it though.

"So, that's what this was? A good time?"

"Oh please, we both knew that what was going on between us had a time limit.", I try to sound mean, but my heart is breaking. I enjoyed every second of the time we had together. But when I woke up today and I looked over at her, sleeping so peacefully, I knew that I could not let this go any further. It wouldn't work out and we would only get hurt. Christ, we do get right now.

Tears start to fill her eyes. I hate seeing her like this. I have to get myself together to not cry. I have to force myself not to run over, apologise and kiss her.

She picks up her bag and walks over to the door. She doesn't even look at me. Why Leah? Why are you doing this?

"Bye, then", she says and closes the door.

And with that, she is gone. I sink down on the sofa and the tears start to fall. I bury my head in my hands. There is only one thing on my mind between the crying. Why did I do this to her? To us? Did I really protect us, or did I lose someone special?

After the while, I find the strength to stand up. I didn't eat a thing today, but I am not hungry at all. I even stopped crying, I simply cannot anymore. I feel like it, the tears just don't come out.

My phone rings. Katie. I ignore the call; I do not want to talk. Somehow, I manage to put on a little bit of music. Music always helped me to understand my feelings. It is a playlist with sad, slow songs. I lay down on the sofa and close my eyes. I hear Lewis Capaldi, sad, sure. Adele, classical. Then 'The Night we met' by Lord Huron plays.

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

I'm so stupid, we could have make it work, somehow. I never developed such deep feelings in such a short time. After what I said, I doubt that she wants to talk to me.

Take me back to the night we met.

I remember the moment I first saw her at the game, how I immediately knew, that I wanted to see her again. How I came up with the brilliant idea to write down my number and take her pen. I look over to the dining table. The pen still lays there, I never got the chance to give it back to her.

I remember how nervous I was when she called me and how I was even more nervous when we met at that café. I was so glad when I saw her there. We got along immediately, it just clicked. How much fun we had at the party, how good it felt looking into the stars with her. The moment Viv dared me to kiss her and how much I loved her for this. The feeling I had when I kissed her. As if fireworks exploded in my whole body. The night we shared, how peaceful she slept on my chest. I remember everything in vivid detail. And how I destroyed it.

It's getting dark outside, and I go into the bedroom. The sheets are still in the position Marie left them. The shirt I borrowed her lays folded on top of the bed. I walk over and pick it up. I bury my nose in it. The shirt still smells like her, her amazing scent. The tears begin to fill my eyes again. I crawl into bed, holding onto the shirt and crying until I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning with swollen eyes and a headache. I cried myself to sleep. How pathetic did I become? Breaking a heart and then crying while I am the bad one. I unlock my phone, a few missed calls and a few messages although I'm only looking for one name but nothing. I open WhatsApp and look at her profile picture. It shows her on Christmas holiday with a young man, approximately a few years older than her. They are making a silly face and laugh. I guess it's her brother, she told me she is close with him.