3 AM and it's hard to tell where I end and they begin. Just this moment, this moment is what connects us all, hips swaying to the music, hands roaming over body parts. The flickering lights make it hard to see anything beyond outlines. I don't know the girl that's now in my arms, but her lips are getting to know my neck and my hands are on her waist. But we - this girl and I - also only have this moment. This moment and nothing beyond.
I take her face in my hands. I close my eyes before our lips connect. Her tongue licking my lips before I open my mouth and we lose ourselves in each other. Our bodies still moving to the dull sound of the bass. Her hands gliding under my shirt. Fingers touching my bare skin.
I feel her lips on my earlobe when she shouting to outmatch the music. She's living only four blocks down from here. I open my eyes to look at her. She's a blond. Of course she is. All the others have been blond, too. They seem to be drawn to me or maybe they just feel how desperately my body is aching for them. I want them for all the wrong reasons, but she doesn't know that she just feels my body responding to her advances.
I look into her eyes and feel sad for her. It is not her fault. If she had met me only yesterday, I would have gone home with her. But i guess it's for the better, now she doesn't have to wake up to an empty bed with a note on the pillow, where my head was when she fell asleep. Nobody should wake up to a 'Sorry'-note and yet that is exactly what happened to so many girls before her.
She is still waiting on my answer, her hands still caressing the small of my back under my shirt. I give her red lips a last kiss before I turn around, leaving this - my own personal hell - behind.
I wander the streets, avoiding the small circles of brightness the street lights throw onto the pavement. I prefer darkness. It allows me to hide my face from the world while I walk home.
The peaceful silence of the apartment is broken as I turn my key. The harsh sound also makes my mind come back from the yawning void I forced it into. Tears are starting to form in my eyes, while I try to take the final step through the door.
My eyes are locked on my feet. I don't have to look up to know that you're sitting across the the room at the dinning table.
'I tried ...', I mutter. I am struggling with myself to look up but it is hard, too hard. I cannot look into your face. I don't want to see the hurt in your eyes.
'That is the point exactly.', I yank my head up, taken by surprise. The harshness of your voice burns a hole in my heart. Your eyes are empty. I don't see the usual sadness. I don't see how your heart is breaking. I see nothing in your blue eyes. 'You shouldn't have to try.'
You stand up. Your once perfect blond hair is mat and dull. You have dark circles under your eyes. It pains me to see you like that. Your haggard face is emotionless. Only now do I notice the suit case beside you. You lift it and I notice the effort it takes you.
Silent tears run down my face, there are so many things I want to say. I want to stop you, promise that I'll change, that we can do this. That I'll try harder. That I can make this work. That you just need to give me one more chance and I'll prove it to you. But not a single word leaves my lips.
You walk pass me. Your hands desperately gripping the handle of the suitcase so that it won't slip through your fingers. I should stop you, but I can't. I'm just staring at the chair you sat in just seconds ago.
You turn around once you stand in the doorway. 'I did not force this on you, Santana. I offered you so many ways out. You didn't take a single one. I guess you are to much of a coward.'
These are the last words you say to me. I still don't turn around. I hear your steps in the hallway. The sound fading away as you walk away. Leaving me alone in an apartment that used to be ours. I know that I will never see you again.
My legs give in and I slide to the ground. Tears still running as I whisper a last 'I'm sorry, I tried. I really tried, Brittany.'