heartstrings

Chapter 57

Evangeline
March 29th 2018

The hot water was burning my skin, the searing sensation almost unbearable as it cascaded over my body.

The steam rose in thick clouds around me, fogging up the mirror and distorting the bathroom into a hazy dreamscape.

This was the last night Nic would stay at my house, and the reality of it weighed on me like the oppressive heat of the water. I couldn't tell if the tightness in my chest was from the scalding temperature or from the thought of Nic leaving.

I'm happy for him, truly.

Nic finally gets to live in a good home, something he's deserved for so long.

He needs that kind of stability, that sense of belonging that he's never really had before. Still, I couldn't help but feel a pang of selfishness.

I had grown accustomed to his presence, to the sound of his laughter echoing through the house, the way his things were scattered about, marking his temporary territory. I wasn't sure how the house would feel once he was gone, if it would still feel like home or just an empty shell.

Stepping out of the boiling hot shower, my skin tingling from the intense heat, I grabbed the fluffiest towel I owned.
The towel was thick and soft, a comfort that I clung to as I tried to push the thoughts of Nic's departure from my mind.

The contrast between the heat of my skin and the coolness of the air in the bathroom made me shiver slightly.
I wrapped the towel tightly around myself, as if it could somehow protect me from the inevitable change that was coming.

The clothes I had prepared to put on were already laid out on top of the sink, a pair of shorts and one of Nic's t-shirts.

It was the navy shirt he had borrowed me after Halloween.

It still smelled faintly of him, a mix of his cologne and the cigarettes he smoked too often.

I ran my fingers over the fabric, tracing the faint outline of a faded logo on the chest, and smiled to myself. It was ridiculous how attached I had become to something as simple as a t-shirt, but it felt like a small piece of him that I could hold onto.

I took the wooden brush that was carefully placed on the vanity and combed through the blond strands of my hair. Each stroke of the brush was methodical, almost meditative, as I watched my reflection in the mirror.

My hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders, still damp from the shower, the strands sticking together in places. The repetitive motion of the brush helped to calm my racing thoughts, but only slightly.

I knew that no amount of brushing or deep breaths could fully prepare me for the changes that were coming.

Finally, I stepped back into my room, the door creaking slightly as I pushed it open. The dim light from the bathroom spilled into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.

Nic was sitting by the window, his head snapping in my direction as the door opened. His dark hair was a mess, as it always was, falling into his eyes in a way that made him look both effortlessly cool and perpetually disheveled.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. There was a playful glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of me wearing his old t-shirt.

I shrugged and shot him a big smile. "You never asked me to give it back, so I'm keeping it. End of discussion." I tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of something else in my voice—something that I hoped Nic wouldn't notice.

It was a mixture of defiance and longing, a silent plea to hold onto the pieces of him that I could keep.

Nic giggled in his place next to the window, the sound light and carefree.

He took a drag of his cigarette, the end of it glowing a soft orange in the dim light. The smoke curled up around him, dancing in the air before he blew it out the window in slow, deliberate puffs. I never really minded the smoking, pills were one thing, smoking another, the smell of smoke had become something of a comfort, a scent that I now associated with him and all the late-night conversations we'd had by that very window.

"Do you still remember when you had to jump out of this window?" I asked, walking closer to him and clutching his shoulders from behind. The memory came to me suddenly, vivid and clear, as if it had happened just yesterday.

He laughed, his voice warm and full of nostalgia. "Oh, I remember. I almost died that night." His words were dramatic, but the grin on his face told me he was exaggerating, as usual. Still, there was a kernel of truth to it.

That night had been one of those moments that seemed destined to become a part of our shared history, a story we would tell over and over again, each time with a bit more embellishment.

Now, as I stood there with my arms wrapped around his shoulders, the memory seemed bittersweet. We had been so reckless, so carefree, as if the world outside that window couldn't touch us. But things had changed since then—Nic had changed, I had changed, and the world seemed a lot less forgiving now.

I tightened my arms around his body, and he hugged me back, pulling me into him.

His embrace was familiar, a safe haven in a world that was constantly shifting.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. It was moments like this that I knew I would miss the most—the quiet, unspoken connection that we shared, the way we could find comfort in each other without needing to say a word.

The cold air coming in from the window made me shiver, hard enough for Nic to notice.

He glanced down at me, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

Without a word, he walked over to my bed, me still clinging to him, and gently dropped me onto the mattress. The bed creaked under my weight, the old springs protesting the sudden movement.

I watched as Nic hurried to the other side and slipped under the covers, his movements quick and practiced.

The bed felt too big with just the two of us in it, the space where he usually slept already feeling like it was stretching out, ready to swallow me whole once he was gone. I pulled the blankets up around my shoulders, trying to chase away the lingering chill from the open window.

Nic settled in beside me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The room was quiet now, save for the faint rustling of the sheets and the distant hum of the city outside.

"We should really go to sleep," I whispered into his ear, the words coming out softer than I had intended. "We have a big day coming up."

Nic turned to face me, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light. He smiled, but there was something different about it—something wistful, as if he were trying to hold on to this moment just as much as I was. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and steady. "Big day."

We both knew what tomorrow meant, but neither of us wanted to say it out loud. Tomorrow was the day everything would change.

Nic would move into his new home, a place where he could finally have some semblance of normalcy. And while I was genuinely happy for him, the thought of him not being here, in this room, in this bed, left a hollow ache in my chest.

Nic gave me one last, big hug, his arms wrapping around me in a way that felt almost desperate, like he was trying to imprint this moment into his memory.
I clung to him just as tightly, afraid to let go, because once I did, the reality of what was happening would settle in. But eventually, he pulled back and slipped out of the bed, his bare feet padding softly across the floor as he made his way to the bathroom.