the doorman » a.i au

twenty-one; "i'd have proposed to you anyway."

Two weeks later

I sat up on my bed. I decided that today, I was going to finally suck it up and move on with my life as per usual. No more waking up and pathetically staying in bed for the next three hours weeping on my pillow. No more dragging myself to the living room just to fall to the floor once again, suffocating myself with the memory of us snuggling on the couch. No more skipping classes. No more Ashton.

The thought itself was bittersweet. It was relieving that I still had hope in myself and in recovery. But how long can one survive without the one person she had been clinging unto for the past ten months of her life? How far could one walk without any company? It’d sound completely absurd and pathetic if I were to talk this out, but if I didn’t have him, if I weren’t Ashton’s girlfriend, then who was I? I felt completely alone in a really, really long time.

His absence only dawned upon me three days after my walking out. I thought it was a petty – major, but petty indeed considering it was late night and neither of us seemed to have been thinking properly – fight and either of us would call in the morning and everything would go back to normal. Of course, it didn’t happen. Everytime I didn’t call him, I almost did. And I thought that was the worst part of all – not finding a significant reason or motivation that successfully pushed me to call him. It made me question if really, were we – or was he – worth the fight anymore? Did he think I was still worth the fight? Maybe we were just two souls who weren’t willing to put our egos aside for the other.

I glanced at my short nails, which I had been biting obsessively for the past week or so. It was a side effect; a way to avoid uncharacteristic violence, which I frankly knew would have been a more successful outlet to express my rage, frustration and emptiness but was more detrimental to the condition of my flat. And honestly, that was more important. My flat was still kept clean and neat, a representation of what I wasn’t and it was nice to momentarily pretend that I was still capable of being neat and clean.

Aside from my long nails, I missed going to cafes too. The smell of black coffee and baked croissants had unknowingly grown on me, as did the sound of happiness that emerged from reunions that were full of laughter. At the thought, I sighed. I didn’t know if I could bring myself to enter a café Ashton and I had gone to as I feared the memories penetrating back into my mind. But heartbreak without closure was plain illogical and I had my mind set on getting my shit back together, starting with shoving the memories into the deepest part of my mind.

And I wasn’t going to back down from it.

Mission ‘Getting over Ashton Irwin’ was to start there, whether I liked it or not.

But as soon as I stepped into endroit calm, the café we had both gone to just a month ago, I felt like I had been slapped in the face. Sure, the scent of coffee and croissant and the familiar ring of the bell at the door made me all warm and fuzzy inside but the memories were back and worse than that, he was back.

There he was, sat by the window seat with a book on his palm. I knew you were never supposed to keep staring, that that was the number one rule of any change, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was still the same. The same Ashton who occasionally and very absentmindedly chuckled at parts of the book he was reading and when so, glanced around to make sure no one was staring. The same Ashton who’d always hook his index finger onto the surface of the table and tipped his stool back and forth, just like the little kid in him. Just without his Kara.

I was so occupied with the thoughts of him and memories of us that I didn’t realize he was staring right back at me. He set his book down and got off his stool, not once breaking eye contact. But I did. I walked briskly out of the cafe, not even conscious of which direction I was going to.