The Things We Held On To

6) Wants

He was still in his usual routine of staring at the sea. I was still hiding in the bushes. Same old same old.

He looked tired when I walked past him. Even more so than usual. He looked drained, as if all the life had been sucked out of him.

“I still miss you, you know? All the time,”He told the sky. Taking a seat in the sand, he stared out into the sea. Reaching out, he let the water run between his fingers. He looked mesmerized by it, as if it was speaking to him the way it does me.

I wonder what it tells him.

“Life’s not going well right now. Not really. I’m breathing, but I’m not alive. I don't know if I ever will be. They say grief gets easier with time. They say time heals all wounds, but that's not true. If it was, I’d know what it means to let go. I’d know what it’s like to feel okay. I wouldn't be up for hours waiting for someone I hate just because people dying brings back memories. I don't think I’ll ever be over you, and more importantly, I don't know if I ever want to be.”

Still putting his hand in the waves, he fixated on the water in front of him.

Staying behind him, I thought about his words.

Why am I here? Why do I care so much about someone that hates me?

Probably because even if he hates me, that means he cares about me. It's messed up, but the fact that he doesn't want anything to do with me, despises being around me, means he thinks about me on some level. Even if they're not good thoughts, that's a lot more than I’m used to.

It's a lot more than I’ve ever let myself have.

× ~ × ~ × ~ ×

We stayed silent. He was pulling on his clothes as I kept tearing up a napkin into smaller and smaller pieces. We didn't talk. There was no reason to. Our dynamic of resentment was etched into the fabric of us. Any space we occupied would still contain that feeling.

“Where’d you go last night?”He spoke up.

“Hm?”I asked quietly, pretending not to hear. Maybe he would decide to ask literally anything else. That's not hard to do, right? I mean he doesn't care so why does it matter?

“When you came home soaking wet, where were you?”

“I thought we agreed you didn't care?”

“I don't,”He insisted.

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Good,”I echoed, throwing my old napkin pieces in the trash beside me and grabbing another.

“Are you just going to tear those up all day?”

“I thought you were done caring about what I do?”

“You’re such a smartass,”He grumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“I could say the same thing about somebody in this room,”I shrugged.

“Funny,”He said in voice as deadpan as his face.

Giving another shrug, I tore my new napkin into strips.

“You could have gotten hypothermia,”He spoke up.

“I thought we were done with this?”

“Well, what you did was stupid,”He defended.

“So are you, but I don't say anything.”

“Yes you do. You say that all the time.”

“I insult you, but I don't touch on your intelligence,”I corrected.

“You have no right to insult me. You know that, right?”

“Oh, that's rich coming from you,”I pointed out, giving a humorless laugh as I shook my head.

“Say what you want but you know it's true.”

“I thought you were concerned about me getting hypothermia? What happened to that, love?”

“You're insufferable when you call me that.”

“You're insufferable in general,”I shot back, ripping my strips the other direction.

“You don't seem to think that when you're stalking me, do you?”

“Don't flatter yourself,”I scoffed, looking at the floor as my face flushed. It's not stalking. I just eat breakfast by him every day while making sure not to be seen. That's not creepy in the slightest.

“It's far from flattering, stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker.”

“It sure seems like you are when you follow me. Your bruised nose is proof of that.”

“Learn to fix them right then.”

“Learn not to get caught. Or better yet, stop obsessing over me.”

“I’m the opposite of obsessed with you,”I said firmly, glaring at him.

“Was that true when you were taking notes on me? Tell me darling-”
“Don't call me that-”
“Why? Because it's as annoying as the way you call me love?”

“Do you hate it when I call you that because you hate me? Or are you just scared to fall for me?”I glared.

“I’d drop dead before falling for you.”

“I’m still waiting for that.”

“I bet you wish you tortured me to death while you could, huh?”

“I never even touched you,”I kind of lied. He doesn't need to know about what I did. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't make him like me. It wouldn't take away the harsh feelings between us.

“Are we going to spend our entire time here insulting each other? Or will you just admit what you did was wrong?”

Keeping my glare, I crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back in my seat.

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“You wouldn't get it.”

“Then, make me get it. I sure as hell don't want anything from you. I never will, but you make all these vague statements. Just tell me what they mean or apologize or something.”

Staying silent, I turned my cold stare to the ground. Accepting that this was all there was ever going to be, he sighed as he embraced the quiet, tense atmosphere.

Aris’s P.O.V

I don't want to be angry. I don't want to spend my time pissed off or confused. I just want an explanation. I just want something from her that can make me understand or sympathize or even empathize with her. I just want to let go of as many negative feelings as possible.

I don't understand what it is, but I’m tired of it. I just want to feel something good. I want to feel like I deserve something. I want to be healed in some way.

I’m not, and I’m not sure I can be. I’m not sure it’s possible. It's like I’m constantly being punished.

Do I deserve it? Did I not do enough? Did I do something wrong? Is it me? Am I the problem?

I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.

So I’ll just sit with the girl I hate, who hates me back, in silence, and wonder what the hell’s the point of anything.