Love at First Sight || d.w

Twelve to Three

Dallon's POV

I miss her most at night. Twelve to three am. When the sun is down, but I am awake, and most things don't make sense.

Twelve am

The ceiling isn't white, it's beige. And the ceiling fan spins counter clockwise. And the crack through the blinds give just enough light from outside to see certain things. I've been studying it all for hours, sleep never hitting. Just as every other night this week.

It's all too familiar. Her lying next to me as we fall asleep. The last kiss we will ever share as she ran off. The song that will never be finished. The movies I won't be able to watch. Her bakery. Her touch dancing a long my skin. The damn coffee house that seems to have ruined it all.

The very first I love you that seemed to have meant everything.

I wish I could run over it all with white out. Press backspace until none of it exists. Erase it like just a mistake written in pencil.

Because that's what it is, isn't it? A mistake. Something that wasn't suppose to happen, wasn't meant to be? Tragic, heartfelt, beautiful. Predictable.

Is love a thing? Is it truly something you can have or not have? Something you decide? Brendon and Spencer make it look so easy. They have the love of their life, probably will have kids soon. They don't have to try. I've tried and tried and tried and just ended up where I started each time. Is it even worth it anymore?

The ceiling is beige and the ceiling fan spins counter clock wise and the cracks in the blinds of the window give just enough light for me to see the notebook I bought. The notebook I bought for us to write songs. Songs that wouldn't go beyond these walls, but songs that had meaning to us. Her. Me. No one else.

It's our project, we can work on it as we please, and no one even needs to know about it. Just our little project...

It instantly destroys me and I can't stay here. I can't lay in this bed with all these thoughts and memories until the sun rises. It'll pull that last string inside of me and who knows how long I'll survive after that.

I had imagined marrying her. Waking up to her every morning. Making breakfast and coffee, a kiss as we head off to work or where ever the hell we needed to be. Joining again when we got home. Have dinner with her family and mine. Loving her.

Foolish, I was.

My first thought is to just get out, get out and walk around. But even that isn't enough. I need something to forget. I need your lips off my mine. Your name out of my throat. Your touch off my arm. You out of my mind.

Look at what you have caused.

So the bar is where I go. That's what I've started to do. Heart broken? Go to the bar. Did it when Kelsie said no. That helped didn't it? No. If I hadn't of done that I never would've been wandering the streets for coffee. Never would've met Merideth. Never would've ended up where I am now.

Oh, Merideth. How did you fuck me up this bad?

"Tequila?" The bartender, Tom, asks the moment I walk in. This bar has always been relatively empty at this time of night, you get to know people. Including the crack addict that sits in the corner questioning life.

"Tequila, but instead of just, like, a quarter of the small glass or a shot, can I get a tall glass and have it filled the the top? I know you're not suppose to do so, but if you could break that rule just this once." He shakes his head with concern, but nonetheless grabs a tall glass and the tequila anyway. He mentions how this is costly, but it's all the same to me. I'm Dallon Weekes, I have money and I constant pain in my chest from the hole two girls have managed to dig. Tragic.