This Thing Between Us

now

11th September 2017

There is an alternative universe where you never left.

Where the fire is on, and you're in my arms, and life is still good. Where you're cooking pasta, and I'm writing about how I fell in love. Where I never went to England or to that pub or to that boy's house. Where I didn't miss you so much that I replaced you with someone else.

There has to be a world where we're still happy, good old you and me, and I didn't fuck it all up. That's where you still love me.

But I'm still here.

And you're still there, driving in your dads old truck, full of stuff we used to own. You turn left, as the vehicle shakes. I picture it breaking down, and you staying another night. I'd tell you it was all a mistake, or I'd help you fix your car, and you'd decide you didn't really need it in the first place; you've got nowhere to be anyway.

My mind drifts of to were I run after you or call you. Were I do some sort of manoeuvre to bring you back home. Your truck breaks down and you stay the night.

But you don't, and it doesn't. Your hand-me-down yellow truck skids around the corner and disappears with the setting sun. I barely see you go. And I think that somewhere in my mind, I have blocked out the thought of you ever leaving, replacing it with a memory of you with me; keeping 'us' alive, so to speak.

I walk back inside, once I'm positive you're not coming back, and climb the stairs that seem to have multiplied. By the time I reach the third floor, and your old apartment, I am exhausted. I fumble with my keys, blaming it on my muscle workout with the boxes I didn't help carry.

It's all just excuses, isn't it?

Walking passed the fireplace, and leaving the heating off, is just an excuse to save electricity bills, not because I don't want to replace your warmth. Not because I couldn't bare to remember your taste. Not because there is nothing on this earth that could possibly justify the cold you left me in.

This may sound stupid to you, especially after all I've done, but I don't ever want to reminisce what we had, because I fear I might regret it. And if I regret it, then I regret you, and I regret the way you built me up, and the many times you saved me. And if I regret all the things you've ever done for me, then I don't think there is anything left for me to be proud of.

And, Sam, even though you may never believe me, meeting you is the only thing I will always be proud of. That smile, and those eyes, and that heart beat. You are the only thin I never want to connect with remorse.

I walk into the kitchen. It looks the same as it has always been. If you were here, however, the chairs would be pushed in and the blinds would be shut.

If you were here, you'd be shutting all the doors, because you learned that that made me feel better. You learned that a monster would eat me in my sleep otherwise. You learned that it was harder for the demons to get through shut doors.

You learned to turn the lights off after me so I would always stay on the bright side of the room.

It's pretty pathetic, to be honest. It's a childhood habit I never dropped.

I don't shut the doors for you, I don't do what I forced you to do, insisting that I wouldn't sleep otherwise.

Right now, I couldn't care less.

I open the fridge and the light instantly floods the room. But then I close it again, because I'm a bit lost and I don't really know what I want. And besides, I'm not really that hungry.

I walk past the bathroom. Through the dim light and open door, I can make out my dull reflection staring back at me. Judging me, probably, for being such a loser. For not knowing what to say, and backing out of opportunities.

I don't point out my flaws, you'd be proud of me for that. You said I was perfect and that you couldn't imagine loving anyone else. You told me not to look in the mirror if I'm only going to complain about what I see. So I listen to your wise words, and look away; besides I already know my flaws by now.

I climb into your side of the bed. The sheets are still messy from when you slept here last night, and you put some books on the end of the bed but I don't kick them away. I curl into a ball, hugging myself because no one else can.

This room, it has never felt so big. You insisted on filling it with miscellaneous crap like the first scribble of Crossing Love. Or the receipt of our first meal as a couple in a box on the dresser. You said it made the place feel more homely, and I guess you were right.

Because, ignoring the fact that this was never my apartment to begin with, I have never so out of place in this world, as I do right now, laying on the wrong side of the bed. And I've never felt this empty on my own although I've been by myself for the majority of my life.

If we're on the topic of confessions, then I confess to not being able to find the courage to regret a thing that happened. It sounds so wrong, I know, that I don't regret breaking your heart but I do regret turning cold. I don't understand my brain, either.

Fact is, letting you go was never part of the plan, but I wouldn't change it even if I could. I hope you slap me if we ever meet again. I hope you're angry and I hope you can't even begin to understand all I have done. I hope you move on but I hope you never forget me. For various reasons, my love, reasons I cannot tell yet.

I hope you never forgive me, and I hope you find someone to mend the tears I caused.

You better be fine without me now. This hurricane, it was all for you, Sam.

After all, you're always happiest at the end of the storm.

I pull the covers over me, kicking off my shoes so they land with a thud.

You better be fine without me now. This hurricane, it was all for you, Sam,

after all, you're always happiest at the end of the storm.

A/N hey my dudes! it's been a while, i know. I've been working on some other stuff since I updated six weeks ago. I've completely written my short story 'Young & Infinite' and am now gradually releasing it; please go show it some love:) If you want more regular updates, go check out 'Blurr.' I literally post when ever I have something to say (which is like.. always).

Thanks for your continuous support, it motivates me to not give up on what I'm writing. You're v appreciated.

As an apology for ditching you for so long, get ready for A DOUBLE UPDATE OMG. ur welcome