delicate. / timothée chalamet au

twenty one.

Are you ever conscious that you're doing the wrong thing while you're doing it?

Your mind is screaming at you to stop before you do or say something you can never take back, and yet you just keep doing what your doing.

I had taken a cab almost fifty minutes outside of the city to my hometown I swore I'd never step foot back into again unless there was a gun to my head.

Now I stand in front of my ex boyfriends, Blake, house-- no gun to my head, nothing to gain, my mind screaming at me that there is still time to leave, to go back into the comfort of Tim's apartment and apologize for leaving so abruptly.

He let you leave, Rosie. He practically packed your bags for you. He doesn't want to be with you anymore.

That's right... I can't just go back.

I'm again unwanted.

So I pull my bag closer to my chest and walk up the steps to get to the door I used to cry and beg to enter. Looking at it bitterly, I hear slight rustling  from inside. It sounds like a pair of two mens voices I've never heard before.

Maybe I'm at the wrong house?

Just then, the door swings wide open and I'm met with two pale, skinny men clearly on something.

"Hey doll," the stranger to my left eyes me up and down.

"Is Blake around?" I raise my voice to ask, giving the illusion that I'm not fazed my this uncomfortable interaction.

The two men eye each other, "Now, why would a little thing like you, all innocent like, be needing to see Blake?"

Before I could respond my breath escapes me, Blake had made it to where we were all standing, putting himself in the middle of the two stoned men.

"Oy, don't judge a book by its cover Marty, Rosie over here is not as innocent as she looks." He grinned over at me, looking me up and down in the same demeaning way he always has.

"Hm," Marty eyes me up and down. "I'll be seeing you, Blake."

The two men brush past me sending shivers down my back.

"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes? You look good Rosie." Blake smirks as he moves away from the door allowing me enough space to walk in.

This was a huge mistake, I need to leave.

Blake stares at me inticingly, "You know, it's crazy that you called, I had just found some of Jace's old stuff laying around the other day, if you wanna see?"

Shit.

"Yeah... I guess that would be okay."

I pick up my bag off his welcome mat and swing it over my shoulder as I enter the familiar hallway I never thought I'd be back in. I enter Blakes living room and it's almost like time never went by. It's the same as its always been, cluttered, old food rotting on the table, Blakes clothes scattered across chairs and all over the floor. Nothing has changed in this room, it even feels the same. I feel the bad energy as well as the remanats of nights that I'll never be able to remember, along with nights I'll never be able to forget.

Blake lingers behind me, probably getting off on the fact that the last time I was here I swore to him I'd never return, yet now I stand in almost the exact spot I uttered those words. I can feel his breath waft over my neck sending shivers all over my body. I quickly walk into the living room, setting my bag down of his couch.

"So, where is Jace's stuff?" I ask, crossing my arms together.

"In my room," Blake looks me up and down.