Two Pieces of a Puzzle ✔

Chapter Nine

ELIOTT

"Are you sure it's Eric? Like your Eric?"

"Positive," I responded, fidgeting with my fingers. "He has the exact same tattoo, looks the same - only a lot older, and has the exact same voice too."

"I'm so happy for you," Toby admitted with a grin, ruffling my hair. "Ten years of waiting was worth it?"

"Definitely."

"About time you found love anyway," he teased. "You're twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine now."

"Don't make me feel old, you're so much older than I am."

"Only three years older.. fuck, I'm getting old," he responded with a quiet gasp as realization finally hit the both of us.

I certainly was getting old, the small strands of grey hair here and there poking out of the cluster of dark locks on my head was enough evidence of that. The wrinkles beginning to form on the corners of my eyes, from the path of the corners of my nose and to the corners of my mouth, on my forehead - they were all evidence of experience and how old I was getting.

Was it normal to look forty even when you're only a few months shy of twenty-nine? 

"You even had your first kiss yet?" 

"Had plenty of 'em. You even had your first hug yet?" he fired back with a playful grin. 

"Oh shut up," I retorted with an eye-roll. "Had plenty of 'em."

"How much is plenty?"

"Plenty."

He said nothing. 

Then, he finally stirred in his seat, "Gonna be going out with the boys today. Wanna come with?"

"You know what my answer is," I responded with a sigh. 

"A no?"

"Always been a no, always will be a no."

"You say that now," he smiled, tilting his head at me with an expression on his face that reflected how hopeful he was. 

Hopeful that I'd maybe someday get off my bum and do something for once; like socialize with people my age or maybe even get a well-paying job. 

But I lost the capability to do anything when he left. 

I lost the capability to live. 

You only make memories when you're living.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and tried to recall the last memory I had with Toby and the rest of the boys. Nothing came to mind. Toby was right. He had been right all along. 

I couldn't even recall how, when or where we had first met. 

"I'm wasting away," I said out loud.

He hadn't heard me; I thanked God for that.

I was most certainly wasting away, rotting slowly yet surely - losing all will to get anything complete, losing all will to even crack a proper smile or wish someone good morning. I had lost the capability to be me - to carry on with my routine without being reminded of the thought of him. 

"Why can't I forget about him?" 

"Because you're not letting yourself," a deep voice said from behind the couch where I was seated. 

"Mason? When did you get here?" I questioned, startled. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya," he said, his lips pressed into a tight line as he took his seat beside me. "Couldn't help but overhear your conversation, hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I reassured. 

"You're early," Toby noted. "Or did I just fail to show up?"

"You failed to show up," Mason snorted. "You were supposed to be at the field an hour ago. But it's all good, I came to check up on you."

"Sorry, I'll get my coat and I'll be right with you guys. Eliott, you're alright alone, right?" Toby questioned, furrowing his thick brows at me in concern. 

I waved him off, "I'll be fine."

Mason gave me a half-smile, "Let's hope you will be, catch ya later."

And with that, they left. 

I waited till I heard the door shut to finally let out the breath I had been holding. The breath that had been itching at my throat to find a way to escape. 

I felt worthless - seeing Toby being so social and hanging around the rest of the boys while I sat here and sulked. I could only imagine how upset I was making him. He was the one who had to stay at home and look after me, as if I were no longer capable of doing anything on my own. 

Which, I truly wasn't; it's shameful to admit. 

I couldn't even cry. It's not that I couldn't bring myself to; I simply couldn't. 

It were as if all the tears I had remaining had evaporated or been sucked out by a vacuum till I was completely dry. 

But my heart still hurt - and I knew for a fact that it would never stop hurting. 

Why can't I get used to the pain? It's been ten years after all - and he's back now; why am I still sulking?

My phone began to ring. 

I answered right after I saw his name on the screen of my phone. 

"Sorry, was bored so I thought I'd call you," he admitted in that all too familiar tone of his. 

The tone he used when he was too timid to admit that he had missed me, but was too much of an opportunist to let go and not reach out to me at all. 

"That's okay, everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Just asking."

"Everything's fine," he began. "Dandy."

I held back a laugh, "Who even says that anymore?"

"I do. What, do I sound old?"

"Very much so," I admitted before finally allowing myself to laugh. 

And oh, how I laughed. 

When my stomach began to hurt, I sucked in a deep breath and finally managed to calm myself down. 

"Come on now, it wasn't even that funny," he said, and once again, I could hear that smile of his. 

He was right. 

It wasn't even that funny.

But I laughed because it was him saying it.

And with him I either felt too much or nothing at all.