ALEX

SILENCE

I've got boxes on top of another stacked up in a corner with Kit's belongings. I haven't dare to look through his things ever since I packed them away waiting for the day he'd pass by to pick them up. A month has gone by and honestly I think that he's done with me. I've called him a few times but he's never picked up. I never bothered visiting his apartment because to be honest I don't think that I have the balls to look him in the eyes.

Its like I am kicking him out of my life completely by doing that, and kicking him out is one thing that I never planned on doing. He never gave me the chance to explain myself. Just like that he chose for the both of us and I am beginning to wonder if it was the right decision.

I take a deep breath in and walk over to the pile of boxes that's been nesting in the corner of my apartment. I've colored coordinated his clothing from his least favorite color to his top choices. The two Calvin Klein watches that he holds dear life too, sits next to his bright yellowish banana briefs that he finds comfortable wearing while prancing about in my apartment when he decides to sleep over.

His cologne, his clippers, pocket knife, and toothbrush all reside in the same box as roommates while the dancing panda plush toy that I've bought him begins to dance freely within an unopened box.

I can smell him from where I stand, or at least the remnants of his shower gel. Oh, the scent of Kit in the mornings after a nice warm shower, who can ever forget that? Or the way his dark curly wet hair sits on his shoulders effortlessly as he tries to tie his towel around his waist before entering my bedroom in order to put on his work clothes, only to find out that I've hid them from him. Who can forget that also?

Slowly but assuredly, I begin to open a few boxes hoping that I would find something worth keeping despite the fact that I am stealing from him. I don't think that he would mind.

Suddenly there is a knock at my door I stop in my search of finding what valuable items of Kit that I can cherish and look over my shoulders. It has to be at least eleven o'clock at night, who is knocking at my door this late?

I stumble here and there before I can finally reach for the door where I embrace myself for the uninvited company.

There in front of me is Kit.

He's hurt. His hair is a mess, his nose bleeds, his left eye swollen, but there he is in front of me reeking of alcohol with a smirk on his face. He must have gotten into a bar fight.

I don't really know what to say so, instead I reach my hands out to him to bring him in but he pulls away. He is not the same old Kit that I fell in love with, he's someone else. Almost to say a monster, or a stranger.

"I just want to collect my things," he grunts in frustration as he rubs his chin.

Yeah, I bet you do.

I step aside and point to the corner of the room where all of his things reside.

I stare as he stops in front of the mountain of boxes.

I can hear him chuckle softly underneath his breath as his hands fall to his hip where he stares astonishingly at my handy work. I can't blame him for finding this amusing. I've practically boxed him in a corner of my room waiting for his permanent departure.

And with that he grabs his things, box after box entering and leaving my apartment in order to throw his things in the back of his pick up truck. There is utter silence between us as he picks up the very last box on the floor.

He takes a few steps forward and glances my way before smirking and exiting the premises.

And then again in the stillness of the night, beyond the police sirens and the chaos of the city, there is silence within my apartment once more.I've got boxes on top of another stacking up in a corner with Kit's belongings. I haven't dare to look through his things ever since I packed them away waiting for the day he'd pass by to pick them up. A month has gone by and honestly he's done with me, I've called him a few times but he's never picked up. I never bothered visiting his apartment because to be honest I don't think that I have the balls to look him in the eyes as I hand him over his things.

Its like I am kicking him out of my life completely by doing that and kicking him out is one thing that I never planned on doing. He never gave me the chance to explain myself. Just like that he chose for the both of us and I am beginning to wonder if it was the right decision.

I take a deep breath in and walk over to the pile of boxes that's been nesting in the corner of my apartment. I've colored coordinate his clothing from his least favorite color to his top favorites. The two Calvin Klein watches that he holds dear to life sits next to his bright yellowish banana briefs that he finds comfortable prancing about my apartment when he sleeps over.

His cologne, his clippers, pocket knife, and toothbrush all reside in the same box as roommates while the dancing panda plush toy that I've bought him begins to dance freely within an unopened box.

I can smell him from where I stand, or at least the remnants of his shower gel. Oh, the scent of Kit in the mornings after a nice warm shower, who can ever forget that? Or the way his dark curly wet hair sits on his shoulders effortlessly as he tries to tie his towel around his waist before entering my bedroom in order to put on his work clothes, only to find out that I've hid them from him. Who can forget that?

Slowly but assuredly, I begin to open a few boxes hoping that I would find something worth keeping despite the fact that I am stealing from him. I don't think that he would mind.

Suddenly there is a knock at my door I stop in my search of finding what valuable items of Kit that I can cherish and look over my shoulders. It has to be at least eleven o'clock at night, who is knocking at my door this late?

I stumble here and there before I can finally reach for the door where I embrace myself for uninvited company.

There in front of me is Kit.

He's hurt. His hair is a mess, while his nosebleeds, his left eye swells by the second but there he is in front of me reeking of alcohol with a smirk on his face. He must have gotten into a bar fight.

I don't really know what to say so instead I reach my hands out to him to bring him in but he pulls back instead. He is not the same old Kit that I fell in love with, he's someone else. A monster, a stranger.

"I just want to collect my things," he grunts in frustration as he rubs his chin.

Yeah, I bet you do.

I step aside and point to the corner of the room where all of this things reside.

I stare as he stops in front of the mountain of boxes.

I can hear him chuckle softly as his hands fall to his hip where he stares astonishingly. I can't blame him for finding this amusing. I've practically boxed him in a corner of my room waiting for his permanent departure.

And with that he grabs his things, box after box entering and leaving my apartment in order to throw his things in the back of his pick up truck. There is utter silence between us as he picks up the very last box on the floor.

He takes a few steps forward and glances my way before smirking and exiting the premises.

And then again in the stillness of the night, beyond the police sirens and the chaos of the city, there is silence within my apartment once more.