Love Song (LGBTQ+) (COMPLETED)

6. Leaver

Barefoot with soaked hair, I had long stormed out of my own house and headed to the end of my neighborhood, where Grace had lived. As though I were running track, I tried my best to thoughtlessly run forward at full speed. Thoughtlessly, I said, but they still leaked in. They leaked in like running water to a broken pipe. The thoughts began to hit harder, each one slowly becoming darker than the last.

Did she hate herself because of who she was, because of what we were? Had her parents convinced her that being gay was wrong? What if she had already hurt herself? Had she cut herself? Had I missed a cry for help before this, was I blind to her feelings? What if she already killed herself and I'm too late? How would I react and what would I do? How would I feel and where would my mind be?

Finally meeting their door, I pounded furiously, over and over until the door flew open and revealed her father. "Hold your h-"

I had no time for words or him at all, I needed to see Grace in the flesh. I selfishly needed her alive. I needed her to know that I was there for her. I needed her to know that I needed her. If she had been the fish, then I was the water. If she was the star, then I had been the sky. Grace, standing next to me, shone so much brighter. If I was simply able to be her background, then I would have been just fine with that.

Down the hallway, I had met and opened her door in one swift motion only to find it empty.

Did Grace run away? Grace knew I would have gone with her if that was the case. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth like the stray puppy I was. It didn't matter if it was the streets or in a mansion, it would have been all the same. As though I needed confirmation, I opened her closet to find no large portion of clothes missing, which only said she hadn't left. Hopefully.

If only for a moment, a small bit of the lump in my throat had disappeared. Even if I could breathe a little easier, where was Grace? How far away was she, was she safe? If she hadn't planned on running away or hurting herself, then where had she gone? Suddenly, the phone rang in one of the other rooms and gave a twice and third ring, allowing me to follow it. I was led back into their living room as her father talked on the dark red landline.

His expression had gone from calm to wide-eyed, and that was when the lump in my throat returned with a vengeance. Instead of trouble breathing, it felt like I was being being strangled by a man three times my size, and was followed with an unexpected, heavy weight on my chest. It was as though gravity wanted to rip my heart out of my body, tugging all of who I was away with it.

"Anchor and Boulevard? I'll be there as soon as I can."

If that address had been where she was, Grace had only two blocks away. Once again, the cold decided to prick at me as I flew out of the door before I could even think. I ran just like before, at full speed in the dead of winter as I cut through streets and red lights to speed it all up. Had I wanted to speed up at all? What if I saw something I didn't want to see? What if Grace had gotten hurt in an accident? Would she be okay?

As I sped through an alley, the color of sirens became clearer and clearer, until I met the sight of what felt like dozens of police officers and an equal amount of ambulances. Yet, it hadn't been those that I paid attention to. It wasn't even at the bottom of my mind, not even close. The only thing that was on my mind was the car in front of me. The car with shattered windows and a caved in roof.

The car Grace was on top of.

"Everything will be fine, L." my dad's words had come to mind.

Liar. Fucking liar. Tell me, dad, what part of this was fine? How exactly had this been fine? How was this working out? Where was the value in having faith? All it had done was this. All of those lies had only served for me to see this, the woman I loved on top of a car. How was faith, or belief going to help now? How was everything going to be fine now? All I could do now was dwell on the thoughts of what I could've done.