𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

forty - missing

•
julia.
•

august 25th.

i slept beside her for what i knew would be the last time. her warmth against mine, the weight of the duvet draped over both of us, our sweatpants tangled up against each other was enough to ground me for those fleeting hours of the night that still felt infinite and impossibly too short all at once.

sometime at around five in the morning, i felt the bed shift beneath me as she moved, the mattress springing back up on the side where she'd been lying. i didn't open my eyes. i didn't want to. the blue-gray light of early morning seeped in through the window, casting a small hue of blueish dim lighting across my room, and the faint outline of dew clung to the glass like a reminder of the time passing quicker than i had hoped.

i pretended to be asleep. not because i didn't want to see her—i love seeing her—but i didn't open my eyes because i couldn't face the finality of it. i couldn't look her in the eye and say goodbye. i couldn't admit to myself that this was it, that there would be no more mornings like this, no more nights where we drifted into unconsciousness next to each other, no more billie to hold beside me. her body had become a warmth i'd grown addicted to, and it leaving felt like a reality i never wanted to come true.

i heard the duvet rustle, the sheets twisting in her hands as she straightened her side of the bed with careful precision. then, i heard her soft footsteps along the hardwood as she moved around the room. and then, she came to my side. i imagined her standing there, looking at me and debating whether to wake me up or to let me sleep. maybe she knew me well enough to know that i wasn't really asleep, that i was faking it and trying to avoid the entirety of this moment, simply because i couldn't face it. she always read me well. she knew me better than i knew myself.

i could hear the soft shuffle of her sweatpants and a soft pop from her knees as she knelt beside the bed in front of me, her breath barely even audible like she was afraid to disturb the silence.

i felt her fingers creep into my hair, the familiar and tender touch that i had come to crave. i loved the way she always tucked it behind my ear like she was always trying to get a feel of every part of me, to be able to see my face fully, to view me perfectly, piece by piece.

with my hair now out of my face, her thumb brushed along my cheek with one of the lightest of touches. i wanted so badly to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her and tell her that i wasn't ready for this, that i would never be ready for this—to leave her. to say goodbye.

but i stayed still. i let her touch me. i let her trace the contours of my face because this would be the last time she'd ever see me. she was soaking in what was left of me, holding onto something she knew that she couldn't keep.

then i heard it—her breath catching in her throat, the softest exhale as if she were breathing me in, trying to live in the moment and stop worrying about the future that we'd spend without each other. and then, from those lips that i had memorized, studied, adored, and kissed a thousand times over this august, came the words that broke me—shattered me to a billion pieces.

"...i love you." she whispered with her tone tentatively and so quiet like she was afraid to say it any louder, like saying it out loud would make it real and would make it hurt more... or maybe just happen to wake me up.

she leaned forward, pressing her lips to my forehead in a kiss that felt long, tender, and fragile, as if i were something too delicate to wake. it was a kiss meant to linger long after she was gone, a kiss that would haunt me as another one of her ghosts.

and then she was gone. just like that. as quickly as she had come into my life, she had vanished. it's almost like she'd never even been here at all.

i tried to go back to sleep after she left. i really did. i tossed and i turned, pulling the blankets tighter around me, trying to pretend that her absence didn't leave a gaping hole in the bed—in my head. but it was useless. the minute i heard the soft click of the back door closing behind her downstairs, i knew sleep wouldn't be so kind to me tonight.