slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

71. all these things that i've done

"I act and react, and suddenly I wonder, 'Where is the girl that I was last year? Two years ago? What would she think of me now?'"
- Sylvia Plath

~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

Morning came too quickly, slipping through the curtains and catching the dust in tiny golden flecks. I lay on my side, staring at the wall, tracing the cracks with my eyes, pretending to be absorbed in them.

My chest tightened. Last night came back in flashes I couldn't push away - my mother's words cutting me open, the curse tearing from me before I even thought about it, her screams, the boys staring.

And then Lorenzo, refusing to let me run, refusing to believe the worst of me. His voice steady when mine cracked. The way he listed things about me I'd never dared to believe - clever, stubborn, the one who held people together, the one who made him better.

It had sounded almost impossible, hearing it from him. Like he was describing someone I'd never met. And yet, he'd said it with such certainty, like there wasn't a doubt in his mind.

I'd gone to sleep clutching those words, trying to weigh them against the truth I'd always carried: that I ruined everything I touched. They didn't balance. They still didn't. But the echo of his voice hadn't left me, even now.

And now he was here, asleep, his hair all messy, his hand still loosely curled around mine. Like nothing about me frightened him. Like what I did didn't change a thing.

But it did.

I should've moved. I should've sat up, shaken him off, pretended like none of it mattered. That's what I always did. But I couldn't bring myself to move. My body was heavy, too aware of his arm brushing mine, of the quiet steadiness of his breathing.

Finally, his eyes blinked open. He turned his head, found me already watching him, and the corner of his mouth curved - slow, amused, irritatingly gentle.

"Morning," he murmured, like waking up next to me was the most natural thing in the world. I suppose it was by this point.

He cleared his throat softly. "Sleep okay?".

I shrugged without looking at him, letting my voice stay flat. "As well as I can."

I wanted to shake my head. He shouldn't still be here. He shouldn't want to be here, after... that.

I looked away, heat crawling up my neck. "You stayed."

He blinked at me, slow, and for a second I thought he'd take it seriously. Instead, the corner of his mouth tugged up. "Would've been a bit dramatic to climb out the window."

I rolled my eyes, but the sharpness I wanted didn't come. Not with him looking at me like that - like the words I'd spat last night hadn't touched him at all.

"Of course I did." No hesitation. Like it wasn't even a question.

The words caught in my throat. An apology tried to claw its way out, and I hated how fragile it sounded. "Lorenzo... about last night. I-".

"Don't," he cut in, voice soft but firm. "Don't apologise."

My jaw tightened. "I lost control."

"You think I care about that?". He pushed himself up on one elbow, watching me like I was being ridiculous. "Cass, I've known you my whole life. You don't scare me."

That made something twist in my chest. I wanted to argue, to snap at him until he stopped looking at me like I was something worth defending. But the words wouldn't come.