paper rings (l.h.)

46

The past two days felt quick. Too quick.

A sadness loomed over the two of us that wasn't there before. I couldn't keep myself away from him, I was his shadow for the last few days. I watched and took in every inch of him, how he liked his coffee and how he didn't drink it until I had my cup of tea even though it took longer to brew. I learned of his business voice, listening to remote calls from the hallway to hear him talk about numbers and appointments and dates and interviews. I wrote when he was away, but was his every second he was home.

"You never showed me your new story," he nods towards my journal as I shove it into my carry on. I still had two hours until my flight left, and I was trying to ignore the hole in my heart that was starting to grow. I couldn't imagine how I'd existed without Luke. How the days went by, how I went so long without having anyone to talk to. I thought I could have lived like that forever, and now...

"It's nothing worth reading out loud right now," I shrug, shooting him a sort of sad smile while zipping the bag closed. The last of my packing. "But when it is, I'll let you read it."

We made the most, or tried to, of the time we were allowed. Most of it spent pretending to pay attention to the TV when we were too busy on top of each other, or discussing this or that. It was heavy, the reality we would be facing in just a few hours. But the time we spent in the apartment was not wasted.

"Read it out loud to me anyway," he smiles, crossing his arms as he sits on the bed that my bag lays on top of. A bed that I won't wake up in tomorrow morning. I wish I could take back the resentment of being here alone, before I knew anything of him not flying back with me. Because at least I was blocks away from him compared to states away. "I like the way you say things."

I scoff. "The way I say things?"

I was grateful for this banter the midst of all these goodbyes. Crystal and Michael had stopped by once she heard I was leaving, Calum tagging along with Ashton. My little LA family. I felt my heart ache more once their cars drove off down our street.

"Midwestern Southern," he titles it, watching how I push a stray hair out of my face, the rest of it braided neatly down my neck and resting over my shoulder. My necklace was warm against my skin as I reached up to fidget with the charm. I had promised I'd never take this necklace off, and I hadn't since I received it. I admit, even I couldn't help but stop and gawk at how beautiful I looked with such a jewel around my neck.

I roll my eyes, turning to sit on the bed directly beside him. He reached over to feel my hair, how each strand was woven together. "What will you do, now that I won't be around to bother you?" He asks, his eyes only parting from my hair to meet mine.

"Back to normal," I sigh, smoothing out the fabric of the comforter we sit upon. "Wake up, feed the chickens, feed Grandma, feed myself, go to work... like always."

I allow a deep sigh to escape my lips, hoping to hide the disappointment bubbling over that I've been suppressing for nearly a week. Disappointed in myself for thinking that there'd be a solution by now. Resenting my family for forgetting me here, so that if I was gone perhaps the trauma I gave my family would be, too.

Not that it was ever my fault, really.

"I'll rent down there," he offers as his fingertips run down my spine. Slowly. His touch moving to my bare shoulder, down the strokes and curves of the ink down my skin. A remnant of who I was after my Dad, before I moved here. I didn't remember much of who I was before, but I was grateful for her. For surviving. For living long enough to get me here, to give me this.

I hadn't stared at the canvas that is my arms for a while. Hadn't acknowledged the hundreds of dollars I poured into them, the paychecks wasted at the parlor. Didn't want to think about the jobs I had that afforded me this, and certainly did not want to remember the amount I had gave away rather than tucked into some savings account somewhere.