love came calling, twice // olly murs

3.

As she followed Adam through the house, only half listening as he pointed everything out, she thought about Olly's quick departure. He was really sticking to what he had said two weeks ago; he really was making every effort to stay out of her way. Amelia didn't know whether she should be thankful, offended or ashamed.

"And here," Adam said, stopping at a door near the end of the upstairs hallway, "Is Tom's old room."

He pushed open the door andAmelia gasped, feeling the wind knocked out of her. Everything was exactly as he had left it the last time he had stayed here, which had been five months ago after a wild night with them. He had been too drunk to drive and Jason was feeling particularly unsympathetic as the designated driver and had refused to drive him home to Amelia. Stepping into the room gingerly, she felt her heart pound in her chest.

She had only been in the room a handful of times. When they began their relationship, they were spend time at her old apartment or out on the town; it was easier that way. Any time she did come around the house, she and Olly shot venomous words at each other and everyone found they were in the crossfire of a situation they could do without. As such, everything seemed like a mystery, like a museum. Like she had studied the subject in books and now she was seeing it displayed in front of her.

Sensing her distress, Adam stepped back and began to close the door. "I'll let you settle in," he said softly, setting her bags on the ground. She nodded mutely before walking further into the room.

Feeling her being break and her head spin she crawled on top of the bed and felt her eyelids grow heavy. It was too much to deal with. Why had she thought this was a good idea? She couldn't do this now, she couldn't do this ever. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blacked out then; dreaming disjointed dreams about Tom and the house and blue eyes. She woke up disoriented hours later when a knock at her door sounded.

"Mils?" Adam's soft voice came. "The guys and I are going out to get some things for dinner. Make yourself at home, okay?"

She didn't respond, but rather sat up in bed, feeling dazed and confused. She glanced around the room and felt everything crash upon her again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she felt her legs grow numb beneath her. The room held so much of him, even more than the home they shared together. The walls were lined with framed photographs depicting scenes of his life. Photos of he and Adam when they played little league baseball together, another of he and Olly in college. Another of her own face, smiling back at the camera. She squeezed her eyes shut and flopped down on the blue plaid comforter, unable to remain sitting. It smelt musky and stale; like it hadn't been cleaned or slept on in quite some time. She cringed, realizing that though his scent didn't linger on the fabric, his being haunted the room.

He had a collection of baseballs lining a shelf above the bed and a small book shelf crammed with classic novels. Tom loved to read; 'The Kite Runner', 'The Great Gatsby', 'Grapes of Wrath' and 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' all had a rightful spot on the wooden case. On top of his dresser there was a watch, a tray with spare change, a deodorant stick and a CD player. The floor was covered in loose leaf paper and random pieces of clothing. A sock here, a button down shirt there. Feeling her composure break, she crawled off the bed and took his shirt before pulling it over her camisole. She shuddered as it hit her skin and she curled into a ball on the bed, hoping desperately that the pain would filter away and that she could feel whole again.

She had once read a novel where the female protagonist was dealing with a broken heart and had described herself as feeling like swiss cheese. Filled with holes and gaps that could never be filled again. As stupid as the book had turned out to be, and as silly as the female protagonist was...there was no better description for how Amelia was  feeling at the moment.