I am not going to lie, I am damn proud of this chapter.
Go on, read it.
Find out why.
H
Hindsight
In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.
In hindsight, he should have stayed home.
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.
Hindsight vision, his mother told him once as a boy, is twenty-twenty.
And facing the red apartment door, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from the metaphorical rear view mirror and force himself into the present. He raised a fist to knock then dropped it before it hit wood.
Raise.
Drop.
Raise.
Drop.
This sad ritual continued for another minute or so before he clenched his teeth and did it.
He knocked.
One tap.
One very light tap, almost as if it didn't actually happen.
Maybe she didn't hear it, he thought, part of him relieved and another, rather large part of him disappointed. And then the door swung open.
She stood before him, dressed in navy sweatpants and a plain white v-neck he had never seen before. Her hair was wet, and the strands that had escaped from her ponytail clung to her neck.
For some reason, she didn't look surprised to see him in the least.
For some reason, neither of them spoke a word.
She finally broke the standstill, obviously tiring of the standing and staring routine.
He expected her to speak, to roll her eyes, maybe, shut the door in his face.
But she did none of these things.
In hindsight, she thought, she probably should have.
She stepped forward, so they were both in the hallway, one small step at a time until she was close enough to share his breath. He stood stock still, unsure of what to expect. He felt her arms encircle his waist, and then her face pressing into his chest.
And then they were hugging.
He didn't move- still wary of the situation. That's when he felt her fingers massaging a small pattern into his back.
He lost it.
His arms fell around her body, squeezing her as hard as he dare. She was amazingly good at this hugging thing.
"Shhhh," he heard her murmur into his chest, holding on to him. Letting him hold her. He trembled a little, but held in the tears. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. He didn't let her go, and he was relieved that after what must have been 15 minutes, she didn't let him go, either.
Her hair was soaking a dark, head-shaped hole in his teeshirt, but he couldn't care less.
When his breathing slowed and lightened a little, she pulled back, only enough to look at him. His blue eyes had never looked clearer, and the sight sent a little shiver up her spine- a shiver he no doubt felt, judging by his tight hold. But tonight wasn't about that. She returned her head to the spot on his chest, happy to stay there, her arms holding him as close as he was her.
"How do you do it?" she heard him whisper, so quietly she wasn't sure if he said it, or if she just imagined it. In answer she pressed her fingers into his back again, kneading in comfort.
"It's hard. I'm not going to lie, it doesn't get easier," she responding. As comforting as she wanted to be, she wouldn't lie.
"I hate this," he responded, his voice still a soft whisper. She knew he didn't mean the hugging. "I hate it."
"Yeah," she agreed, breathily. "Children are the hardest."
In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.
In hindsight, he wouldn't change a thing.
Oh wow.
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softer