Playing With Fire || d.h

48. Regret

Your POV

Pain shoots through my leg as I wake up, and I stretch my body out, soreness and cramps everywhere. Maybe sleeping in a ball wasn't the best decision I've ever made.

"Finally, you're awake." I jump so bad I almost fall off the couch as I see PJ towering over me, his hands on his hips. I don't want to think about how long he's been standing there. "We've got plenty of plans for today."

I sit up, stretching my arms. "L-like what?" I ask, pulling my knees to my chest.

"I mean, we have a few months of being away from each other to make up for. Or did you forget about the fact that you completely abandoned me just to be with that total ass-eating jerk?" I look down at my knees, not wanting to say anything for fear of any repercussion. "Go get ready, we're gonna leave in thirty minutes."

"But...but...I don't have any, any clothes or anything," I mumble.

"You think I didn't prepare for that? Follow me?" He walks toward the hallway, and after a second of hesitation, I cautiously follow him, walking into a room at the end of the hall. He opens the door, and I'm filled with shock.

He's somehow crafted a nearly exact replication of my own apartment room, from the same bedspread to the same curtains. He opens the closet, and I'm horrified to finally find all the shirts and hoodies that have been going missing. He opens the bathroom door, and I'm horrified at what I see. All the exact makeup I use, all in the places I usually put them, even the exact towels hanging on the rack.

"Now you get to be home, but I'm still only across the hall. Now get ready, we have a busy day ahead of us." He walks out, closing the door behind him.

I slowly walk up to the closet, lightly grazing each garment with my hand. I suddenly pass a black Spirited Away sweater, and my breath catches in my throat. PJ must've thought this was my sweater as it was probably on the floor in my room, but I had only borrowed it from Dan one day, when I was way too lazy to pick up something from my own apartment.

I pull the sweater over my chest, taking in the scent. However, it only smells like clean laundry. Tears welling in my eyes, I drop to the floor, and crawl to the corner of the closet, hidden in the darkness. I throw my face into the sweater, sobbing uncontrollably. Not the normal crying, but the kind that only comes in the worst of situations. I can't breathe, hyperventilating, wondering if I might choke on my salty tears.

After about fifteen minutes, small sobs still escaping me, I take off my t-shirt and pull the sweater on, ignoring the wet patch of where my face had been.

Looking through the closet, I find a pair of black skinny jeans, along with fresh underwear and socks. After pulling on the clothes, I walk into the bathroom. Pushing how freaky this all is, I do my makeup and hair, brush my teeth, and pee. The second I zip up my jeans, I hear the bedroom door open.

"You ready, babe?" I physically cringe at that word, but reply, walking out of the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I mumble, lacing my hands together behind my back.

He sighs, a light smile on his face. "I love how you can barely do anything to your appearance, and still look like a fucking angel." I don't know if that's a compliment or not, seeing as he's basically saying it looks like I didn't try, but I know better than to say anything.

The entire day, he never lets go of my hand. Ever. Every time I used the restroom, he would stand in front of the lady's room door, to make sure I don't try and make a break for it. We go to a cafe, then go shopping, go to the park, and a few other things. Somehow, I completely numbed out the whole thing, and I might as well have been asleep.