human ↦ calum hood {au}

two: playing

CHAPTER TWO:

| calum’s pov |

The confused look on her face wanted to make me laugh; she doesn’t remember anymore, does she?

Though there was a part of me that was guilty, that feeling was overwhelmed by relief. It was working. If she doesn’t remember me, then there would be no problem at all.

We wouldn’t have to bring anything back up. 

No more fights and reruns of all the horrible things that happened. No more kiss and make up solutions. No more us. No more Calum.

Just nothing.

She lifts her head up slightly to look me in the eyes. She says nothing but nods and walks away. She didn’t even make an effort to try and figure out what I meant– something that I expected her to do.

It was better this way; I wouldn’t have to bother having her depend on me.

I loved her, I did, but I felt so pressured to match up to what she expected me to be. I felt like I was being pushed to be someone I wasn’t, and this was all because that was what she needed.

But I’m not what she needs– she just thinks I’m what she needs.

No, she thought I was what she needed.

And I'm not what she needed.

She couldn’t recall our past, or whatever happened between the two of us. Lyn shouldn’t have those memories come back. 

I don’t want to feel pity for her anymore and to force myself into loving her again. 

Because I don’t.

I can’t do it anymore.

This was why I was here– playing with her.

The moment she reminisces what happened, she’ll hate me. There wouldn’t be any trace of love left. She would detest just the sight of me.

That’s what I want. 

That’s what I need.

I watched the door close, and she was out of sight. 

“I’m sorry,” I started, meaning to tell this to her, without her actually being here. “But I’m not sorry.”