Snow

50 | i need to be alone

❝i'm a wanderess, i'm a one night stand,
don't belong to no city,
don't belong to no man.❞

❘❘

I ALREADY KNOW WHAT I have to do, but when she opens the door, se siente mal.

Because I'm still so fucking high, and she is still so fucking beautiful, and the idea of leaving the city... leaving her, is so fucking cold.

Emmy blinks, those long, dark lashes cascading over flushed cheeks in slow motion, and I'm suddenly stuck staring at her longingly, wishing I hadn't wasted so much time. "Neva."

I muster up a weak smile. "Hey, sorry."

A rivaling smile flirts as her lips. When she reaches for my hands, closing the space between us, radiating nothing but warmth, my heart somersaults. "Did you get enough air?"

Squeezing her hand in apology, I nod silently.

"Bueno. Well come on in, mami," she says, lacing our fingers together so delicately that something in my chest cracks. "Me alegro de que esté bien."

Am I really?

"Emmy, I..." I pull away gently. "I... I'm—"

"Hace frío, Neva." An unspoken plea shimmers in her dark eyes, wide and open and vulnerable. "Pásate."

I can't.

Las mentiras line my throat, threatening to tumble free and wreck everything—every second I've spent in this fucking city, building walls and then watching them crumble around me.

Because I can't let her know how fucked up I am. I can't let her know that it took two fucking hits just to drag myself out of Julian's apartment, or that it took another hit to force myself out of the car and to her door.

I can't let her know that I'm fucking falling apart. I can't let her know that I have a bag packed and full tank of gas.

I can't let her know that I'm leaving.

But as our eyes clash, as I take in the veil of tears and the fragile smile, I think she already knows. I think Emmy has always known me more than I know myself.

"Don't lie, hermanita."

"Te amo," I breathe, my voice cracking like ice, a confession fractured and fragmented with too many missed moments. "I love you so much, Emmy."

And she fucking stills.

Emmy freezes, and those dark eyes hold me hostage, seizing me in this beautiful midnight hue, a lost memory of those reckless feelings that will always keep us alive. Amor.

"You're leaving."

I bite back a cry. "I'm going... home."

"You're going back to Florida."

"I'm going to see my brother," I admit, remembering those faint words. I still don't really know what home is, pero no es Florida. "I have to."

Emmy nods slowly, her gaze drifting away from me. As she rubs her hands up her bare arms, shivering, shaking in the dark doorway of her apartment, I know she's cold, and I... I only want to keep her warm.

I want to be warm.

Silent tears roll over my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Emmy. I'm sorry."