Forget Me Not

9. One Day, I'll Explain

"Um...Babe!" Kennedy called out to me.

"Yeah?!" I called back.

"There is some one here to see you." she walked into the living room, a concerned expression on her face.

"Where are they?"

"I thought you'd like to talk to this specific person outside of the apartment."

When she noticed my confused expression she mouthed 'its Marcus', her expression changing to one of fear.

"Oh." I mumble, "Okay, I'll be back soon okay?"

"Okay." She says nervously, kissing my cheek as I pass.

"What do you want?" I ask Marcus slamming the door behind me.

"Oh not much, just someone wanted to see you. Now let's go he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Kennedy

It's been two hours since he left with Marcus and I can't help but wonder what they are doing. He told me that when he used to hang out with Marcus that they did things that could get them very hurt and in a lot of trouble.

As I start clearing the table I hear the front door open and shoes on the hard floor.

"Hey," I say cautiously when Derek steps into the kitchen. "Your dinner is in the microwave, if you're hungry."

He just shrugged and pulled his chair away from the table, throwing himself down onto it.

"I can warm it for you..." I suggest.

"It's fine Kennedy."

"Okay." I pause, taking in his thoughtful expression. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it Kennedy. Just leave it."

"You just seem like something is on your mind."

"There is but that doesn't mean I'm going to talk to you about it." He spits out.

I cringe at his harsh tone, he never talks to me like that, at least not usually. He's usually open with me when something is bothering him. Except when his dad was involved, he always shut down when it came to that man.

"Does it have to do with your dad?" I asked.

His head snaps up to look at me, eyes blazing.

"Don't mention him!" he growls.

"I was just asking! You always get like this when you've talked to him."

"I don't care what observations you think you've made! Leave my father out of this!"

"I don't see why you are getting mad it was a simple question!"

I flinch when his large hand makes contact with the top of the table, as he pushes himself from the chair sending it flying backwards.

"I don't see why you feel the need to ask a million questions! Just shut up and leave me alone!"

"Oh. You want to be alone? Fine! Sleep on the couch!" I yell, turning on my heel and walking out of the kitchen.

"Fine!" he yells back just before the bedroom door slams behind me.

I swiftly lock the door and make my way to the dresser to find some clothes to sleep in.

It was only nine o'clock but there was no way that I was going to go back out there. I waited until I heard the shower running to open the door and throw a pillow and blanket into the hallway with some extra clothes before closing and re-locking the door. I was serious this time. He was not coming in here.

~

The next morning I woke up long before Derek usually does and quietly made my way around the apartment gathering my things for class. I decided that making coffee here would only wake him up and it would just be better to get some from the campus coffee shop. And made my way out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me in hopes of waking up Derek.

It may have been a bitch move since he was up extremely late apologizing through the bedroom door, but so what. He didn't let me sleep so why should I let him?

My classes passed excruciatingly slow, and the only thing I could even think about was our fight we had last night.

What is going on with him? Why was he so mad at me? What happened yesterday?

When I got home the apartment was empty. I set my things down on the kitchen table and fixed myself something to drink before starting on my homework.

As the sun sank lower in the sky I checked the time again. It was seven and his last class ended four hours ago.

'Where is he?' I ask myself.

I stand from the chair I had been sitting in as I did my homework and stretched, making my way to the bedroom.

It only took me a few seconds to realize that his things were gone. His books, his clothes, everything but an old hoodie that I constantly stole from him.

He left me.

As I got closer to the hoodie lying on the bed I saw a note with his crooked, sloppy writing.

I'm sorry.

This is for your own good.

Maybe one day I will be able to explain.

I love you.

That's it? That's all? 'Maybe one day I'll explain?' Really? What makes him think this is an acceptable goodbye?!

This has absolutely zero explanation!

The words on the paper begin to blur and my eyes begin to burn.

How could he do this to me? To us?

Where is he?