Darling Chaos

3. Darling

Darling couldn't stop tossing and turning. Although it was hard enough being unable to get comfortable under the sheets of her own bed, she nearly felt uncomfortable in her own skin. She couldn't even shut her eyes without the raw feeling of uncertainty creeping through her bones and tugging at her heart. She felt hopeless because every time she closed her eyes, struggling to finally force the sweet feeling of sleep to wash over her, the image of him burned lucidly in her mind.

Countless nights had she lay awake, just wondering. How was he? Did he still think of her as much as she thought about him?

She had believed since the day she first met him that their love could not perish. It was something unmistakable and rare.

She had fallen in love with that broken boy since the day they first met on the rooftop. He was stubborn, and believed he didn't need anybody else to uphold him. Their relationship was very limited to nothing but silence from him for the first few days, as he had a hard time adjusting to the fact that she was a living, breathing human being, and he could depend on her for anything.

She could remember clearly the first night he broke down in front of her, allowing the strong walls he constantly worked to uphold crumble down at their feet. It was the first time she saw his true colors, and the very night she could recall herself knowing that she was in love.

"My father left when I was in middle school." He swallowed, barely able to speak with emotion rising in his voice.

"My mother currently lives in a rehabilitation center, but she used to live here with me and my roommate," He swung his arm, gesturing towards the latched door that opened into his room.

"Ever since he left she has been hitting it hard and drinking, going in and out of rehab... bringing home guys that my roommate and I would end up having to kick out. She's been more of my child than my mother... After a while I had to do what was best for the both of us. I had to put her somewhere she could get help, somewhere that she would get what I was unable to supply her. While I love her, I still wish she could've been sober enough to care. At the time I needed her support the most, she wasn't there." The look in his eyes was bittersweet, then, and Darling had, for the first time ever, felt the desire to draw him.

Darling quickly sat upright, grabbing the journal that hid beneath her pillow and pulling it into the light of the moon. She flicked open to the very first page, staring solemnly down at the very first drawing of him. It was smeared with tear-stains, and definitely far from perfect. After all, she hadn't been in his presence when drawing it.

It had been drawn solely based on that loving, yet mourningful glaze that crossed over his eyes at the mention of his mother. She had wanted so badly to capture that emotion on paper, with a pencil in her hands, but couldn't bring herself to do so at that exact moment. So she had waited... she had waited until later in the night, when she retreated back to her apartment, to finally draw that expression. To draw him.

Even now, looking at the fading pencil marks, she could see the love for his mother on his face, could tell that despite him struggling to withhold his reputation as a selfish, independant man... he would do anything for his mother.

And he had fooled Darling into thinking he would do anything for her, as well.

She placed the journal back beneath her pillow, allowing the memory to fully envelop her thoughts.

"Sometimes," she could remember him pausing at this point, shaking his head like he knew sharing was stupid. But then his walls crumbled further, and suddenly he was gasping for breath. Despite the fact that Darling barely knew him at the time, she held him close and wrapped him in an embrace.

"Sometimes I think... I wasn't enough for him. That's why he left... why he dropped everything... his wife, his child, everything. Because I was a disappointment to him."

That was the first time Darling saw him cry. She wiped his tears, and allowed herself to be encased with anger towards the man who made him feel that way.

"He made a mistake for leaving you. I'm sure, if he knew who you've become, guilt would eat him up every day. That's the biggest mistake anyone could ever make, leaving you! Don't you ever think you weren't good enough for him. If anything... he wasn't good enough for you."

Darling knew she didn't have the authority to say something of the sort. They hadn't known each other for very long, afterall.

But somehow, in some way, it felt right to her.

He had stared at her with utter surprise then, and despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, he managed a smile.

"Thank you, Darling," His voice erupted in a whisper. Darling wiped tears from his cheeks, her lips pulling into a smile of her own. He caught her hand in his, staring into her eyes for the longest time.

"I mean it... Thank you."

Darling didn't know how to respond, so she instead embraced him once more. They sat there for what seemed like hours, saying nothing and doing nothing but holding one another. Darling missed those nights.

She had never needed to talk around him, as they could enjoy each other's company without the presence of words.

But it took her a while to figure that out. The first night they met, all she did was talk. She talked with anxiousness, and fear that he wouldn't return. She talked about stupid things, she talked about what she loved and her day and even though she couldn't shut her running, nervous mouth... she wouldn't even come close to touching the subject of why she was on the roof.

She was terrified, then, because he had barely replied to her whatsoever.

"Oh gosh," she had run a hand down her face, embarrassed beyond reason. "I'm sorry, I'll stop talking... I'm sure I've annoyed the heck out of you." He just chuckled, glancing over at her.

"It's fine. I'd much rather be listening to you talk than drowning in silence." He turned to look at Darling then, his eyes shining with something that sent shivers down her spine.

"And I like listening to you talk. Your laugh is the cutest thing... You're a Darling, that's for sure," He chuckled at the red that flared up on Darling's cheeks. That was one of the things he enjoyed most while in her company. He loved to make her flustered, and Darling could never quite figure out why.

Darling finally allowed herself to return to the present, staring up at her ceiling and shifting around under the covers once more. It felt wrong, not sitting on the rooftop and holding him close. Not staring into his eyes and chatting the night away. Not soaking in his presence under the twinkle of fairy lights and the gleam of the moon.

Finally, Darling wiped her mind clean, struggling her best to forget the feeling of his hand in hers and the soft whisper of his broken voice for just enough time to allow sleep to engulf her.

But even in her dreams the image of him still thrived.

No matter where she went. No matter how much sleep she got, or what she was doing, he always seemed to come back to haunt her.

It crushed Darling, knowing that even after all this time, the image of him still hadn't faded in the slightest. He still thrived in her mind just as well as when he had been sitting next to her, in person, on that rooftop.

There was no escape.