A Falling Sky

Chapter 25

I am a sad sack of rubber in a puddle on the floor.

Literally, though, I am on the floor as my legs can't hold the weight of my body.

I’m not crying. Even if I had enough salt and water left in my body, I don’t think I’d be crying then either. No. I am done.

I can’t deny that I love Harry…but I can’t do this anymore…and the worst part is, it has only been one day.

One day, I have been toiling with the fact that I love him. One day and look at where I am now:  sitting haplessly in the doorway with my body folded in and my legs like little brittle toothpicks that can't bear the weight of a broken heart and crushed dreams at the same time. And it has only been one day.

 

Why would harry have this effect on me? I knew perfectly well how he spends most of his nights. Before, it bothered me a little. It was jealousy, but I didn’t call it that. Instead I chalked it up to wanting what’s best for him because he is my friend. But, trust me, it was jealousy the whole time. Now that I know that this jealousy is covering my body and the ball of energy in sticky blackness, I can’t pick the tendrils off or else the mess just gets worse and spreads to other places; it’s useless. I guess all I have to do is live with it.

ONE FUCKING DAY, SKYLAR

 

Is everyday going to be like this for the rest of my life? No, because I am going to accept the fact right now that Harry is not gonna change and I won’t force him. I am already done hoping and praying. I gave up on him after only 24 hours. I’ll live with loving him from afar and trying my best to not pay attention to who he fucks at night. I hope it will be easy to shut out this information because ignorance is bliss.

This is what I get for falling for my best friend.

MY BODY IS MOVING before I have time process it. It’s not so much moving, but crawling into the one place in the apartment that I need: Heath’s room. I’m literally crawling back to a figurative Heath. And I’m a figurative piece of shit.

Heath’s bed is a place of comfort and I need sleep. There is no charge left in me so I will wait for Heath to come home and…act as if nothing happened? Is that fair to him? Probably not but ignorance is bliss and this time someone else is the blissful smiling fool, not me. Meanwhile, I will try to scrape together the pieces of rubber off of the ground and breathe air back into it; breathe air back into myself.

But first, I need sleep.

I HAVE BARELY JUST wormed my way up to the headboard, when I hear the door open.

Before I can even hope who it is, I recognize the sound of the voices but not the words. A deep British drawl caresses my ear and I groan so loud that I’m almost afraid he heard it. I don’t want to speak with him now. I don’t even want to look at him. Not yet, anyway. I’m not particularly angry or anything like that. I just need time to process the ups and downs, lefts and rights that come from being around him. I’m not going to stand in the doorway this time and purposely listen to them, but I can’t help but overhear their conversation when they enter the kitchen, which is just off of Heath’s room.