I held her body close to mine, feeling in the short amount of time that she had been gone, the weight loss. I ran my fingers through her hair, memorizing the length of it, inhaling the scent of it, the scent of her. I kissed her temple, her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and then finally I closed my mouth over her lips. Tasting her, tasting Callie. I groaned, hearing my father's voice in the back of my head, telling me that she ran away with Wyatt, to be with him, because Callie loved him and not me. And so I kissed her harder, pulling her body closer to mine with each movement of her lips.
She sighed into me, pulling back and resting her head against my chest, and I knew she was home. I kissed her forehead again, brushing her hair back from her face, and clutching her as tightly as I dared.
"I love you." The whisper floated up to me, caressed my ears, and filled my heart with such love. I grinned down at her, tilting her chin towards my face, and capturing her lips once more.
"I love you too." She removed herself from my arms, hooking her thumb over her shoulder, and giving me that lopsided grin she has.
"I have to get back." I nodded, my eyesight going blurry from the tears threatening to fall down my face. "I miss you so much." She continued, reaching up to hug me, pressing her lips to my cheek. I held her tighter as she tried to extract herself from my embrace, begging her silently not to leave me again, and all I remember is the excruciating pain that I felt as her fingers finally left mine.
"I'll wait for you." I screamed after her, and when she turned around on the steps, I saw her smile at me, and nod.
"I'll wait for you, too, B." She yelled back, before walking through the door. My knees buckled, dropping myself to the concrete, scraping my new jeans, but I didn't feel any of that. I felt the absence of her warmth, the void in my heart of her walking away. And I knew then that this wasn't something that I could get over, it wasn't something that I would get over, because I wasn't even going to try.
And I waited, at that telephone pole everyday for a month before my parents caught on, before Girls United slapped me with a restraining order, before moms took her phone line off of our plan, before I heard that they had moved her to a foster home up in Northern California. And slowly life turned back to normal for everyone else, but I still waited for her. Staring outside of my window, praying that one day she would be waiting for me by a telephone pole. Just waiting.
But it never happened, and life passed by without her. Nobody dared speak her name, not around me at least, because of the hatred that lies in my heart concerning her, concerning the way I was forced to leave her. I withdrew into myself, focusing on schoolwork, remembering our last encounter, wondering what it would feel like to have all of her, and not just some kisses. I played the piano with the pain that the Grim Reaper wanted, pounding on those keys with such longing, such hatred, fear and love. She was all I saw, the girl who I kissed, the one that I promised this wouldn't happen to if she would just give in to me, if she would just let me love her. And it was then that I realized that this was all my fault, but my brain and my heart were on two different wavelengths, because I still wanted her with every fiber of my being. I wanted Callie.
And it baffled me to think that two kisses and whispered I love yous could warrant such degrees of separation. But still I waited, as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and finally when the months turned into a year. I woke in cold sweats, with her name on my lips, and my hand reached out as if to grab for her. I would sob from the sheer amount of pain constricting in my chest, and multiple times I thought I was dying from heartbreak.
The distance between myself and Callie was put there by my family, and so I distanced myself from them, I stopped participating in game night, and movie night, and pizza night, which happened to be my favorite. And when the moms adopted Jude I thought it was final, that Callie and I could finally be together, but she still never came. Or they never let her. Then Bill showed up with a girl named Vanessa, who was the complete opposite of Callie in every way that it made me sick to my stomach.
It wasn't until I caught Vanessa in my room, strumming on Callie's guitar that I finally snapped and said something.
"Get out!" I screamed at her, "put the guitar down and get the fuck out." I said, racing over to her to snatch the instrument out of her hands.
Mama came running into my bedroom, her eyes wide, and a scolding ready on her tongue before she saw the extent of the situation. She motioned to Vanessa, who was the same age as the twins, to come with her. As I stood there, holding the guitar by the neck, staring down at it, not realizing that the gut wrenching sobs and strangled cries were coming from me.
I sat on the stairs that night, listening to my moms, speak of Callie for the first time in a year. And the way they told our story to Vanessa, with Callie's name rolling off of their tongues with love, and hurt, and desperation. I knew, that I wasn't the only one who missed her, but that wasn't enough to bridge the gap between myself and my family.
And so the months went on, and I felt more like the foster child which I had no one to blame for but myself, but in my heart I knew that I was doing this for the right reasons. I had told Callie that I would wait for her, and waiting was all I had to do. The year slowly turned into two, and graduation was fast approaching, but it didn't feel the same without her here, nothing was the same without her.
The sun was blazing and the birds were chirping when I awoke on February 16, 2015. The heaviness in my heart was missing, the dread that had filled my bedroom was gone, and the hate in my heart had lessened just a bit. Sitting up in my bed, I wiped the sleep from my eyes, mentally telling myself that I just had to get through this day, and I would be one day closer to seeing her. To feeling her, to being able to remember her. And I closed my eyes remembering what she felt like, how her hair smelled, and how her body felt pressed up against mine outside of her group home.
Much like every other day I stood, stretched my limbs, and looked out the window, hoping she would be waiting there. And much like everyday she wasn't. So I showered, gathered my homework and made my way down the stairs. Moms were standing there, with birthday pancakes, the chocolate chips placed in them formed an 18, and I smiled at them. Thanking them silently, I ate, washed my dish, and left the house.
Her birthday was two months ago, I thought that she would come for me then, but she didn't, and slowly my heart was breaking as the day went on. I searched the music room at school, walked along the streets we took when walking to and from school. I even took a detour to that same group home, where I felt her for the last time.
I skipped school that day, walking the streets of San Diego with my backpack. It had been dark for a few hours before I decided to head back home, resolving that today would be the last day I looked for her. That today I was done waiting.
With my head down I turned onto my street, not even bothering to look at that damn telephone pole, I had given up everything for her. I slammed the front door behind me, ignoring the looks of everyone as I trudged upstairs.
Sitting on my bed was the guitar that I had given to her, the one that I saved all of my money to buy, the one that I felt solidified my feelings for her. I stared at it, glaring at the perfectly knicked wood, and screamed. It took me five minutes to destroy my entire room, ripping posters from the wall, smashing my laptop, throwing my phone. In the end the only thing that remained was her guitar and my keyboard. I began to straighten my bedroom, the anger still radiating off of me.
It wasn't until I heard the blaring of a horn, and a car door slamming shut that I ran to my window, praying that for one last time she would be there. And shewas standing there, staring up at my window. And I took off running, through the hall, down the steps, ripping open the front door, and racing across the street.
And once again she was in my arms, and I could feel her heartbeat. I ran my fingers through her hair, relishing in that fact that it was longer now, like she hadn't cut it since she last saw me. She smelled the same, and when I finally pulled back to look down at her she had that same lopsided grin.
"Hey, stranger." She said, and when she opened her mouth to speak again I covered her lips with my own. Kissing her with such a passion, kissing her with two years of longing, with two years of hatred. I lifted her up, wrapped her legs around my waist, and pressed her body up against the black car she had drove here in.I kissed her until I couldn't breathe, until I could feel my heart being pieced back together, until I could feel my voice coming back to me. And when all of that was done, I continued to kiss her for the countless kisses we could never get back. To the first night we would have attempted to make love, giggling in the moonlight, and blushing at the awkwardness of it all. I kissed her because I loved her then and I love her still. And much like two years ago, she pulled back and rested her head on my chest.
"Happy Birthday, Brandon." She whispered, sending chills up my spine.
And this time she kissed me.
A/N: don't shoot! Here is a one shot to tide you over until I get another chapter of Happily Ever After up. My computer crashed, mind you it was about 10 years old, and I lost everything and I mean everything. Even my will to write, but now that The Fosters is back on! And Braille is back on! I had to write something, especially after that last scene, and that promo. Anyway, tell me what you think.