𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

thirty - lost

•
julia.
•

august 12th.

i hated waking up beside elliot. the weight of his bare body sinking deep into the mattress with his body pressed up against mine underneath the sheets felt so wrong. his skin was warm, but unfamiliar—an unwanted reminder of what last night had spiraled into.

things had a way of blurring when the night stretched too long, when words ended up turning into simple touches, and touches turned into something far more than simple.

i didn't really want it to happen. not with him. but it did. it just did. there was a brief moment when i could've said no, when i honestly should've just stopped everything. but the moment passed and slipped through my fingers, and now here i was. regretful and ashamed.

under the covers, the fabric felt soft yet suffocating. i quietly reached for my panties that laid within the mess of the bed, sliding them back on in the dim sunlight that barely filtered in through the blinds. elliot's hoodie was within arm's reach, draped carelessly over the side of the bed and nearly falling off. i pulled it over my head, its oversized sleeves instantly swallowing me, offering comfort that i didn't deserve, but its one i still clung to, nonetheless. again, before hookups, he's still my best friend. it's bittersweet in all reality.

my eyes burned from lack of proper and comfortable sleep. i rubbed them with the heel of my hand, groaning softly underneath my breath.

everything felt heavy, like the air itself was thick with fog and just as much regret as i had. i sat up slowly, my muscles aching in a way that had maybe a little something to do with the physical exertion i'd endured, but mostly everything to do with the emotional exhaustion seeping into my bones.

my phone sat abandoned on my nightstand, the screen dark and untouched. you could see light fingerprints on them when the sun hit it just right. i hadn't even plugged it in last night. no surprise there. it was as though i lost a part of me for a good minute. for a whole night.

fuck my life. honestly.

i slid out of bed with precision and carefulness that was reserved for moments you wished to escape unnoticed. i didn't want the floorboards to creak, and i most definitely didn't want to wake him up. seeing him was the last thing i needed to witness right now, standing up in his completely bare frame with his floppy dick just staring at me. literally just looking at him asleep and under the sheets was a grotesque reminder of what i'd done. the mere thought of it made my skin crawl and made my stomach twist in disgust. why did i even let this happen? why did i let myself do such a thing when i knew that i didn't want to?

i padded my way to the bathroom, practically tiptoeing until the cool tile beneath my feet sends a shiver up my spine like it does every morning. the mirror greeted me with an unforgiving reflection as i close the door deliberately, careful to not let it creak nor slam. i noticed that my mascara had smudged in thick black streaks down my cheeks, like war paint left behind by a battle i didn't even want to fight. my eyeliner was smudged to my temples, and all my makeup had mysteriously vanished off my face. i look like a fucking mess.

the water was freezing cold, biting against my skin as i splashed it onto my face, trying to wash away the remnants of my rough sleep and the terrible night before. but the feeling lingered, his touch stayed, clinging to me stubbornly, refusing to be scrubbed away.

i sighed, the sound soft but loud enough to fill the bathroom's emptiness. i braced myself against the counter with my elbows propped up and my head sinking into my hands.

exhaustion had consumed my whole being, it wasn't just from the lack of sleep or sex but from everything. i was tired of it all—tired of pretending, tired of feeling nothing when i knew i felt too much, tired of trying to push everything away only for it to come crashing back, and most importantly, tired of trying so hard to get somebody to care, and not giving up even when it's not working.

•
738 words.
•