Spring [Completed]

TWENTY-SEVEN

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HER

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do•lor
noun

1. a state of great sorrow or distress.

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I arrive at his apartment like a tornado, frantic and distraught, my mind spinning in opposing directions. I was happy that Ethan called, but this is news I wasn't prepared to hear.

Mr. Price is dead. Just like that. One minute he's a living breathing person on this Earth, and in a instant he's nothing but a memory. A small breath in a large expanse of time.

My heart hurts just thinking about him truly being gone, so I can't even begin to imagine how Ethan is feeling right now.

When I get to his front door, it's already open. My heart lurches in my chest when I see him sitting on the couch, face in his hands as he restlessly bounces his leg. He stops when he hears me, and when his red-rimmed eyes meet mine, I drop my purse on the ground and rush over towards him.

Without saying a word, I wrap him in the tightest hug. His body shudders as his arms wrap tightly around my waist as if I'm the only thing keeping him grounded. Taking a seat on the couch, I pull him into my chest and run my hands through his damp curls as his tears soak my shirt.

I feverishly wipe a tear from my face as I think about my own father's passing. When my father died, we weren't exactly on the best of terms, and that destroyed me. I still have a lot of regrets that I'll forever harbor because of that. I can't even imagine how Ethan feels, losing a parent that he was actually close to.

Ethan pulls away, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands as he lets out a deep, shaky breath. When he looks up at me, the pain reflected in his doleful blue eyes hurts me more than it should. "Imani, thank you...for coming. I-I know we haven't been on the best of terms, but it really means a lot that you're h-here right now." He glances at the floor as another tear slips from his eye.

Without thinking, I place a hand on his cheek, bringing him back to me. "Hey," I say, with the most conviction I can muster. "I will always be here for you. You got that?" I ask and he nods, closing his eyes as he places a hand on my wrist, holding me in place. My skin grows hot where he touches me, and I try my best to ignore it as I wipe the fallen tears from his cheek.

"I missed you," he whispers, as his gaze meets mine. My breath hitches in my chest when he pulls my hand from his cheek and laces his fingers with mine.

As he looks at me, waiting intently for my response, I know that now is not the time. It's the grief talking. It has to be...

Before I find the right thing to say, Ethan sighs, slumping down on the couch and leaning his head back. "You think my Dad was upset with me in the end?" he asks, as he stares at the ceiling.

"No, Ethan, why would you think that?" I furrow my brows.

Ethan laughs gravely. "Because I never visited. All I cared about was my stupid job...I wouldn't even blame him if he resented me for it...I resent me for it."