We Were Blue // Completed

26//

"There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it." 

-Kate DiCamillo

* * *

I jerk awake to the sound of knocking. My head throbs as the sunlight streaks in through the windows and the pounding becomes louder. Groaning, I sit up on the couch and stumble over to the front door. "Holy fuck, calm down. I'm coming," I yell, my voice raw from just waking up.

Yanking the door open I freeze, slowly taking in the half smile playing on his lips. And fuck me for melting like a popsicle on the fourth of July at the sight of it. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and swallows thickly. I try to ignore how being around him feels like sitting right next to a camp fire in the middle of the winter- perfect and safe. 

Damon appears unsure as he takes in my ruffled hair and crinkled pajamas, shifting from foot to foot as he does so. "What are you doing here?" Skipping the casualties I get straight the point, after all he's fucked me over so badly lately there's no point for them anymore. 

The intensity in his storm irises takes my breath away. "We need to talk, Fel," I've always loved how he said my name, it always sounded like honey from his lips, even made me fall in love with a word I was never too fond of. Now it sounds like poison, but the mesmerizing type of poison, the type that appears unharmful but holds something profoundly lethal. 

"Can I come in?" I want to say yes, but I'm also tempted to say no. Deciding on the former, I open he door wider and motion for him to enter. He glances around the entrance, taking it all in for the first time. Not that there's very much to see, no pictures of our family or an intricate design flowing throughout the floor concept. Rather it's dull, with white walls, the same color they were when we moved in, and empty tables, lacking objects of sentiment.

He clears his throat, and turns back to me. It's funny we dated for a year and yet he never stepped foot in my house. It was easier to make up an excuse not to have him over, than to explain what lied behind these thin walls. 

He trails after me as we travel into the living room and I plop down where I was formerly sleeping. He hesitates, taking a step toward me before changing direction and sitting on the edge of one of the matching chairs. The sunlight shines on him vibrantly, highlighting all of his features and dipping into the curves of his face. 

He looks almost angelic as the clocks turn over in his head. "Julian's a bad guy Felicity." Like a record on repeat he utters the same words Roman did last night. And fuck Roman for telling him, after all he was probably the one that sent Damon here to talk some sense into me. 

Joke's on them, Julian's the last fucking person I want to be with. I don't understand why neither of them can get that through their thick skulls. "I know." Is all I say. 

More than anything I want him to be jealous, like I was jealous watching all those damn girls cling to his arm. I want anger to vibrate through his body at the thought of me with another guy, at the thought of me with anybody other than him. Instead he appears completely unaffected, like he doesn't care at all.

Every time he's near my heart is on overdrive, fuck when he enters the room I can feel his presence like we're two magnets fighting to get back to each other. But for him it seems as if we're in alternate universes, just mere ghosts. I shake everything away. It doesn't matter, I tell myself, even though it feels like it's the only thing that matters.

"I'm sorry," He says after a long drawn out moment. Sorry for what? I wanna ask, but I don't. It's funny because these are the very words I've wanted to hear for a year now and yet it's actually happening and it's not at all how I expected it would feel. I guess I thought it would give me a sense of relief or closure perhaps but instead I feel exactly the same as I did before.