These Demons

Chapter Forty-three

"You... what?" Zoe glares at me with so much shock in her expressions that my blood runs cold and the lump in my throat makes it unbearable to speak a word.

"I... I do," I'm somehow able to stutter, completely unknowing of what I'm supposed to do.
She seems to share my thoughts there because she's still staring, her forehead wrinkled, and even though we still hear the noise from the club that's just a few feet behind us around the corner, it's like someone stopped the time in this stained hallway with people almost passed out on the sides and not able to comprehend our conversation.

"Are you... are you serious?" she then asks and something inside of me breaks at my realization that she doesn't have equal feelings.

"I'm sorry," I mutter more embarrassed than I've ever been.
"I shouldn't have said that." I should have kept my stupid mouth shut.
"Why?" She truly looks like she's wondering, and I don't understand that.
"Is that a real question?"
Zoe tilts her head. "Why do you regret telling me this?"
I furrow my eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious? You don't feel the same way."
She doesn't meet my eyes, so I shake my head and pull my phone from my pocket to have an excuse to keep my hands and eyes busy and away from her.
"God, I'm such an idiot. I have to go," I mumble, my face heating up, and when I turn around, she finally speaks up, but she doesn't say what I expected her to.
"Wait, are you really going to leave me again? Like this?"
That causes me to halt and turn back around to face her. "What else should I do? Let this humiliate me any further?"
Guilt is visible on her face and I can't stand that. "I..."
"This... us... it's never going to work, is it?" I sharply interrupt her and seem to ruin her concept.

"What?" Her mesmerizing eyes search for mine, but I keep them dropped to the phone I'm holding even though its screen is black.
"I keep fucking up and you don't even love me," I press and speaking it out loud makes it even more embarrassing for me.
"I never said that," Zoe quietly counters, but I shake my head.
"You never said anything else either."
"Maybe..." she starts and I raise both of my eyebrows.
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe... you don't always need to say it," Zoe suggests and kicks a piece of paper with her heel, desperately trying to disguise her obvious state of nervousness.

"I have no idea what you're talking about right now," I then admit.
I mean, what does she mean with this? Is this a good or a bad thing? Why does she talk in such misunderstanding and mysterious ways and can't tell me what she thinks?
"Just because I didn't say it doesn't mean that I don't think it!" she repeats louder, her forehead wrinkled, but she still doesn't have the guts to look at me, and I still don't know what she means with her cryptic choice of words.
"What are you talking about, Zoe?"
She takes a moment and exhales while running a hand through her beautiful hair. "Honestly? I'm not sure about that anymore."

"That's what I mean," I point out this nonsense and sigh, my head spinning from the heat, noise and whatever is happening to us.
"And what is that?" she questions while I sit down leaning against the wall, not minding the stains and smears of cigarettes, alcohol and other even more repulsive substances, or the passed out guy a few feet away from us.
"Chaos. That's all this causes between us," I confess and rest my chin on my knees to close my eyes and calm my tensed body.
She hesitates, but then sits down next to me and we're only inches apart, but neither of us dares to give in and come closer.
"Emotions?" Zoe tries to see my point, but I slowly shake my head before closing my eyes again.
"No, us... in general. We're way too messy to work," I almost whisper in my exhaustion and sadness. I wish I could just sleep.
"To work as what? As a couple?"

Why does she have to ask so much?
"Just... forget about it," I brush it off and Zoe scoffs and I see her crossing her arms when I open half of my eye.
She looks so stressed and worn out and I feel horrible for always making her so upset, but she always chooses to stay in my life, so it's not solely my fault.