He tried to settle into a routine. He tried to keep himself busy and distracted. He tried not to think about her. He tried. He failed, but he tried.
When seven hours had passed by, he wanted to call her. He wanted to tell her they could figure it out. When he woke up the next morning, it took him a few minutes to remember why he didn't feel well. Then it all came back. He picked up his phone, letting his finger hover over her name. But he threw his phone onto the bed. And it landed in the empty space next to him. The space that belonged to her whenever they were together.
A few days passed. And then two weeks had gone by since they last spoke. Since she told him she loved him. Since she said she was sorry.
So he forced himself to forget her. It was impossible, but he did his best to wipe away the memories. There were suddenly pictures and videos saved on his laptop that he couldn't look at anymore. Various shirts in his closet that he couldn't wear because they always looked so much better on her. Songs he couldn't write , Songs he couldn't listen to. Songs he skipped. Songs that made him want to scream.
When an entire month had gone by, he felt almost normal again. Or as normal as someone can when half of him is missing.
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There was a mysterious hour and a half block of time every Sunday morning when the gym was typically deserted. If one was looking for some privacy, some quiet alone time, some place to get away, this was the opportunity. And that's where Sasha found her. She had been so distant lately. So quiet. She looked distracted. Frustrated. Sad.
As he watched her, she flipped and danced working on something for a new senior gymnastic competing for the first time in an international event , turning at the last second to avoid hitting the wall.
"Not bad," Sasha called from where he was watching, standing next to a bench right at the edge of the floor. Emily turned quickly at the sound of his voice. So quickly that she did something she rarely did, and she fell to the spring floor, landing on her back.
"You alright?" Sasha called out to her, expecting her to get up, shake it off, carry on. But as he watched her, she sat up. Her head fell into her hands and he saw her body begin to quiver as though she was crying.
"Emily," Sasha whispered, before hurrying out to her. "Are you alright? Here." He held out his hands, helping her back to her feet. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Emily shook her head, but she kept her eyes down and didn't speak. Sasha could feel her shaking slightly.
"Are you sure? You're upset. What's wrong?"
"I'm fine. It's… nothing," Emily said shortly, attempting to turn away from him.
But Sasha heard the hesitation in her voice. He wasn't about to let her go. He still held one of her hands in his and he wrapped his other arm around her back, pulling her closer to him.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said softly. "Look at me. What's going on?"
Emily finally raised her eyes to his and they were filled with tears. She tried to pull away from him once more, but he was holding her too tight, too close. So she gave up and she broke down. She wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.
"Let's go sit down," Sasha said softly, leading her over to the bench from where he had been watching her.
They both sat down. She had her head resting on his shoulder and he had his arm around her waist, moving his hand slowly up and down her back.
