human ↦ calum hood {au}

ten: sweet

CHAPTER TEN:

| calum’s pov |

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I felt kind of bad for her. She never liked talking about this; she thought it was derogatory. 

But I knew the real reason– of course I did. She took them, originally, as antidepressants. I didn’t know if I should believe that she was genuinely heavy-hearted when we broke up.

I couldn’t trust her; she made me believe her many times before, I didn’t want to give in anymore. It would be the other way around. Not again, I won’t believe in her again.

“Calum,” she started, and I had to avoid her gaze for a while. 

It was unfair; I thought I’d be fine after all this. But I was the only one in actual pain. 

Who was I kidding? I’m the only who remembers the past, who remembers how much we loved each other, who remembers these little things.

“Calum, I love this place,” she gushed, her hand holding onto mine tightly.

I could still feel it, her hand intertwined with mine. The way we’d always have a date here, how she’d order tea with extra sugar, and how she hated black coffee with a passion, though I loved it anyway.

But no, it’s just not the same. She’s in front of me, but there’s nothing. 

We’re nothing.

“Calum?” I see a hand waving in front of me.

“Oh, sorry. I’m sorry. What was it again?” 

“Why do you think I’m drinking them? You must have your own opinion, if you weren’t the one giving me them.” Will I answer it truthfully? 

“I th-“ I was cut off by the sound of saucers being placed on the table.

That waiter who knew the two of us gave us a wide grin. I spoke with him earlier; I hope he gets what I said registered in his brain. If not, then everything I’ve planned out would fail.

Lynette stares at the tea before her and a small smile appeared on her lips. 

“She’s still her, Calum,” a part of me screamed, and I hated how right I was. 

The waiter went away, thankfully. I wouldn’t have to deal with covering up things, so she wouldn’t know.

I watched as she stirred it with the teaspoon. “It has extra sugar.”

“Oh, thank you. I like it sweet,” she told me, taking a sip from the cup.

And I know. Why wouldn’t I? 

“So, why do you think?” She didn’t drop it, as I thought. Curious, as always.

“To get better,” I lied, looking at her in the eyes. 

She seemed to agree with me, so she just continued with her tea.

That wasn’t the case. She didn’t need to get better.

Lynette needed to drink those to forget.