He trembled as he walked into the room. Whether it was the cold of the hotel, or the feelings that had haunted him for the two flights he had taken to get here, he didn't know. Well, yes he did. He didn't mind the cold.
He didn't manage to carry his one bag further than the bathroom by the door. He sat it down in front of the closet nearby and fell onto one of two beds sadly. He was miserable. Why he had made this choice in the first place was confusing.
Bringing himself up to the pillow on the left side, he looked over to the empty space. Abby should've been there. She should have been with him right now. But it was fault she wasn't there. He'd failed to fight himself for her again. How could he lose that fight?
He was at a fork in the road. Were they together? Obviously not. Or were they? No, they weren't.
Did she love him? Not after that morning. Did he love her?
God, yes.
At least he thought so. Was it possible that someone could love another, even if they didn't want to be with that person.
But she had cried. Didn't that mean something? She had cried, and he had felt like nothing. He'd felt like less than nothing. He'd made that woman cry. He'd made her sit, and stare and cry for him. For the nothing.
He wasn't deserving to live at the point. He lived for her anyway. He felt useless without her. He was complete with her.
Nonsense. Fairytale love.
But, that's what they'd had. That jumping-over-the-rainbows, happily-ever-after, "I'll give you the moon" love. They'd shared that. And he enjoyed every minute of it. Whether they were fighting, or kissing, or holding hands, he knew she was the one sooner or later.
He draped an arm over his blank, hungry eyes. Aimlessly, he kicked off two shoes toward the floor and blindly reached up with another arm to turn off the lamp beside him. He felt like crying himself. No surprise, considering he had walked away from the one thing he loved most.
It hit him again. Revelation. And sometimes he hated those revelations, those breakthroughs.
He loved her. He knew he did, but now he knew that he had to be by her side, be by her to be himself. He didn't want to do that, though. Because he knew he would entangle himself in something wrong. He'd hated the way they had ended it all. If anything was going to happen, he'd have to initiate it. Because it was his call.
It was his call.
He reached for the phone, then shuddered at the rap on the door. He groggily stood up and made his way to the entrance, pulled the door open and looked his visitor straight in the eye.
--
I wrote a short one. Ha ha.
-me
He didn't manage to carry his one bag further than the bathroom by the door. He sat it down in front of the closet nearby and fell onto one of two beds sadly. He was miserable. Why he had made this choice in the first place was confusing.
Bringing himself up to the pillow on the left side, he looked over to the empty space. Abby should've been there. She should have been with him right now. But it was fault she wasn't there. He'd failed to fight himself for her again. How could he lose that fight?
He was at a fork in the road. Were they together? Obviously not. Or were they? No, they weren't.
Did she love him? Not after that morning. Did he love her?
God, yes.
At least he thought so. Was it possible that someone could love another, even if they didn't want to be with that person.
But she had cried. Didn't that mean something? She had cried, and he had felt like nothing. He'd felt like less than nothing. He'd made that woman cry. He'd made her sit, and stare and cry for him. For the nothing.
He wasn't deserving to live at the point. He lived for her anyway. He felt useless without her. He was complete with her.
Nonsense. Fairytale love.
But, that's what they'd had. That jumping-over-the-rainbows, happily-ever-after, "I'll give you the moon" love. They'd shared that. And he enjoyed every minute of it. Whether they were fighting, or kissing, or holding hands, he knew she was the one sooner or later.
He draped an arm over his blank, hungry eyes. Aimlessly, he kicked off two shoes toward the floor and blindly reached up with another arm to turn off the lamp beside him. He felt like crying himself. No surprise, considering he had walked away from the one thing he loved most.
It hit him again. Revelation. And sometimes he hated those revelations, those breakthroughs.
He loved her. He knew he did, but now he knew that he had to be by her side, be by her to be himself. He didn't want to do that, though. Because he knew he would entangle himself in something wrong. He'd hated the way they had ended it all. If anything was going to happen, he'd have to initiate it. Because it was his call.
It was his call.
He reached for the phone, then shuddered at the rap on the door. He groggily stood up and made his way to the entrance, pulled the door open and looked his visitor straight in the eye.
--
I wrote a short one. Ha ha.
-me