unexpected - b.w.s

42. Escaping

I looked into those eyes of sorrow.
His face was drained from color, his usual soft looking pink lips, were now dry and had a purple undertone.
Not to mentioned the amount of fresh bruises and marks. The little white band-aid covering some of his eyebrow, red and bruised around it.

He looked suprised, but also worried or scared. Something that was unusual for him.

"Did you do that on purpose?" He asked with a bit husky voice.

I didn't know what to answer. I was still in chock. He acted like this wasn't absurd at all.

"Why?" He walked closer to me, away from the sink, were a used cigarette was placed at the side. He was standing right in fromt of me now.

I just looked into his eyes, still not knowing what to say, mainly because I didn't know why. He quickly let his tounge out to wet his lips, which made them look more soft.

"What are you doing down here?" I asked in a steady voice, ignoring his question before.

"Escaping. I needed a cigarette." He shrugged. I just nodded, still looking into his deep brown eyes. They seemed darker than before, with little bits of lightbrown in them.

"How've you been?" He asked softly. Why did he act all nice now, that wasn't how he was.

I shaked my head. "I need to go." I said, almost whispered. I stepped back a bit, but before I could walk away, he grabbed my hand, pulling me back into him. His hand was cold, colder than his usual warm one.

"No wait, Mags." He sighed. It was wierd hearing my nickname coming from his mouth again.

"Why?" I asked him, but he didn't answer. "So you can hurt me, and then walk away again?" I asked again in a shaky voice, and I could feel a lump in my throat.

"No." He puckered his brows, while bringing his hand up to my face. He tugged some of my hair behind my ear.
"I..." He started, and brushed my cheekbone with his thumb, looking at me trying to figure out what to say.

"Why do you hate me? What have I done to you?" I asked stepping back, so he didn't touch me.

"I don't hate you, I...- fucking hell." He sighed fustrated, yet again running his hand through his think curls. "Look, just because let you go, doesn't mean I wanted to. It doesn't mean I forgot all about you, doesn't mean I no longer care. The truth is, I do. I miss you, a-and I... Holt fuck, I think about you a hell of a lot." He sits on top of the counter, looking down at his hands, who currently are playing with his rings.

"But still I'm trying to forget you. Like... You have no idea how much of fucking alcohol I drank last night, and the other nights as well, just to forget your name, but I can't. I can't fucking sleep, because when I close my eyes I see you. And then now I finally see you, and I can't keep my eyes or freakin' hand off of you." His eyes of concern met mine again.

He wasn't the only one. I thought he forgot all about me, but he couldn't get me out of his head, just like I couldn't with him, we just tried in different ways.

We just stayed there in silence, carefully watching each other. I could faintly hear his breathing. It was like we were starting over again, like we were strangers.

I wanted to ask him, what now? But I didn't know how he would react to it. Did he think everything was back to normal, or was he still trying to forget about me?

I slowly nodded, turned around to leave, but this time he didn't stop me. He just let me go. I was scared he was gonna do that from now on, what if we never saw each other again?