The prompt for this chapter was Sunrise/Sunset. Again in Second person. I just like the way it flows~
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It wasn't rare to find you sitting in nothing but your jeans with a smoke in hand nowadays.
How many times have you sat here in this window sill watching the sunset?
You think about the times when you used to watch the sunset together. Blissful moments standing on the balcony wrapped together in a blanket.
You made sure the apartment had a balcony just for him.
You always did the smallest things for him, just to see him smile.
Deep down you knew it was never enough. Nothing would ever be enough for the nature that you knew too well.
Often you couldn't help yourself, but you tried so desperately.
With practice and ease you flick open your zippo and light the smoke you have now hanging out the corner of your mouth.
You swore you would kick this.
That seemed so long ago, back when you made pretty promises.
Before there was screaming and throwing and leaving, coming back to collect your clothing when he wasn't home.
Nights weren't the worst shift to work, but tonight was one of the rare nights off.
Normally you would be going out, getting so drunk you couldn't remember your stupidities. But tonight you feel like staying home.
You feel like pining over things you have a hard time remembering now.
All this thinking is hard, it makes you mad and to calm your own nerves you throw your ashtray across the room.
It only helps fuel your need to hurt.
Time to go for a ride.
You find a shirt to put on and you're soon on your way.
Hours fly by as you race the streets of Miami. Twice some punk kids in supped up cars tried to challenge you to a race.
You laugh as you beat them. It was so simple.
As dawn nears you find yourself in a very familiar part of town.
And on impulse you turn off the bike and get off, staring up to a window you've stared at so many nights before.
But this night is different, this night the light is on in that window.
It takes a whole two seconds for you to realize you've begun to move, pulling out the keys to enter the apartment building. You swore you'd return this key eventually; you just never got around to it.
Your mind goes blank as you pull yourself up the stairs three at a time, breaking into a run as you get close to the place you used to call home.
Huffing, you stop and stare at the door. Dark wood, spyhole, the number indicated by bolted gold numbers.
Without thinking you bang on it.
Not a minute later you find yourself staring down at the one person who loved you so unconditionally, the one person you hate yourself for hurting.
And only one thing comes to mind to say at this moment.
"We never watched the sunrise together."
And he smiles a big foolish smile at you and lets you back in.
