You Don't Have Me

Chapter16

It wasn't a good idea. He knew that it wasn't a good idea. But, everything sounds like a good idea when you're eight Bud Light's in. And, right now, that's where Tyler was- sitting in a guest room at his own house, dialing your number. He was mad. He was hurt. Most of all, though, he just wanted to hear your voice. But, the thought of hearing it and actually hearing it were two very different things. And, the second he heard it he brought all the passion and feelings back that were still lingering between the two of you.

And with that, was the anger that he had felt from the night where he last saw you. The night where he had been so vulnerable, a type of vulnerable he had never been with anyone else, and you hurt him. More than you thought, or could have ever even imagined, and right now he was trying to let go of all of that hurt.

He was in the middle of ripping you a new one when the door swung open, probably triggered form your yelling.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Brett yelled from the doorway as Tyler instantly ended the call, now ashamed at what he had just done.

"Did you call her?" He asked again, eyes growing wider. Tyler stayed silent. "Did you just call (Y/N)?" Tyler didn't answer, but he did stick his bottom lip out, pouting, almost like a child. Brett walked further into the room. His eyes squinting, examining Tyler.

"Are you crying?" He asked.

"No." Tyler said, trying to be convincing. "I'm fine." He said, almost shrugging his emotions off.

Brett nodded before walking away, getting the hint that Tyler definitely wanted to be alone. And as he laid there, on the bed, beginning to sober up, he realized that what he had done would probably cost him your relationship, or whatever was left of it.

You woke up the next morning, still trying to recover from the phone call from hell, with a mission: ridding yourself of Tyler- that's what you were doing. It was pretty clear to you that he wanted nothing to do with you. So, you were clearing form your life- tangibly that was. You took all of his clothes out of your closet. A bobblehead he had given you of himself, years ago, now laid in a cardboard box along with other scattered objects. The only thing you couldn't bring yourself to do was remove the pictures of him form your phone, and boy were there a lot. You had managed to get the ones in frames, littered around your house, and put them away. But deleting them just felt so permanent, and a part of you was still clinging onto the hope that things weren't over.

Occasionally, as you were doing all of this, you glanced at your phone. And, as the hours ticked on the number of missed calls you had from him grew. He didn't bother leaving a voicemail, and after what he had said to you last night, you weren't really ready to hear his voice, let alone what he had to say yet.

But after the ninth call, you had had enough.

"If you called to continue yelling at me, you can hang up. I've got the gist." You said, the sass eminent in your tone.

"I called to apologize, actually." He sighed, sounding hungover. "I didn't mean what I said last night."

"Do you even remember what you said?" You asked, angrily. "Because just saying sorry isn't going to cut it. Sorry." You said, matter-of-factly.

"I know." He breathed.

"You know what you said, or you know that sorry isn't enough?" He had his chance to tell you off, and now, was your chance.

"I remember most of what I said." He paused. "And, it was awful and not true, and I hate myself for it."

"Oh stop." You said, annoyed with his bullshit. "Obviously, you think some of it or you never would have said it."

He was mad. You were mad. But, at the same time he was trying.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked, the frustration clear in his voice. "I was hurt and drunk, and I know that's not an excuse, but its the truth." You exhaled, not knowing what to say. "Look, I get if you don't want to accept my apology or whatever, but I just wanted to say sorry, and that the beginning part- me telling you that I miss you and I love you, was true." He paused, still waiting for you to say it back. "Do what you want with that." After that the line went dead. You held your phone, now showing your home screen, as the call had ended, up to your face as you screamed at it. Attempting to relieve all of your stress, and anger towards him, but it didn't help. As you threw your phone into the couch, your hands coming to your face, trying to figure out your next move.

Then it hit you. It was the week of the fourth of July, and you actually had some time off form work as your office was closing for the week. And, after a few trips home this year along with some business trips and the occasional trip to visit friends you had some frequent flyer miles. So fuck it.

You were going to Toronto, and nothing was going to stop you.