Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter twenty-three

Chapter twenty-three

My hand slammed against the front door when I reached it, my other hand rapidly hitting the doorbell. I could hear the jingle echoing throughout the inside of the house, alerting my presence. “Bruno,” I called hoarsely through the door after it didn't open for some time. “Bruno it's me. It's Adrian.”

When I heard it unlocking I stepped back, my body pulsing with the beat of my heart. I was more than ready to ease the ache of missing him, but the door was only ajar, obscuring more than half of Bruno's dark figure. “Adrian?” He sounded tired. That was it.

I stepped up to the crack. “Yes,” I said, voice cracking. “It's me. I'm back.”

He opened it wider, showing what a mess he was. His hair grew out much, and it was shaped badly. He looked so exhausted and stressed, the circles under his eyes very stark against his skin. Right then it killed me—knowing that I was the reason for him sinking like this. He leaned against the frame, a hand still on the doorknob. “You here to get your car?” He jerked his chin. “It's right there, where you left it.”

“My car?” I searched his eyes in confusion. “No. What? I—”

“Tell me something first,” he said suddenly, the rough anger in his voice having me taken aback. “How could you just leave me like that? All those times I tried being there for you—there was no point to it all, was there?” He leaned in closer, and I could smell the strong, spicy scent of rum on his breath. “Every word you said to me, a lie. You never fucking cared. You were never fucking in love with me. I don't know why I couldn't see it. All those lies. I should've known.” 

My mouth opened. “I'm so, so sorry, okay? For lying, for everything.” I brought my hand to his cheek and jaw. “Just, stop—for a minute—”

His eyes darkened at my touch. Whatever it was it was stronger than the fury coursing through him. It severed my words. He shoved my hand to my side. “No amount of apologies could change anything, Adrian,” he gritted, voice trembling with rage. “You don't care about shit except you, the shit you've been through. What about me? You think I haven't been through nothing? I've witnessed what you witnessed. I'm scarred like you're scarred yet you made it so hard, so damn hard.” He shook his head, almost painfully. “It was never easy being with you. All you do is dwell in the shitty things of your life. You think I wanted to be with someone like that?” He waited a second, “Someone like you?”

“Stop!” I yelled harshly, on the brink of my own outrage. “God Bruno, stop, okay? You're drunk—” My voice broke and I swallowed hard to force out tremulous words. “You're drunk and you're angry and you don't mean what you're saying. You don't know what you're saying.” 

He chuckled, bitterly, a muscle in his jaw working. “Remember that night we fucked?”—I winced at his word usage—“And we agreed that we could live without each other? Tonight's the night to start. Take your car and leave. I'm done with you.” He couldn't even look me in the eye. He lowered his gaze, took a step back into the house. “I'm done.” The slam of the door was combined with the thunder that rumbled above. The sound resounded through the earth, making it seem like it was about to fracture and shatter into a million of microscopic pieces—like the inside of me.

I slammed my palm against the door. 

“Bruno, please! I didn't—It was Joseph, okay? He's alive and he took me—” The rain started pouring. My words caught with my sudden intake of breath. I continued yelling over the rain, feebly hitting the door with aching hands. “Joseph's alive, Bruno. And whatever you think, it's not true. Joseph did something, he did something. . .” My voice faltered, weakened. My forehead fell against the unopening door. “Bruno? Please? You're just going to leave me out here? You're not going to hear what I have to say?”