Keaton | The Past
Mylegjittersbeneaththe booth, fingers drumming a restless staccato on the tabletop while my gaze ricochets between the clock above the counter and the door.
I break the rhythm just long enough to tug my t-shirt collar from my sticky neck.
Fuck, it’s hot in here.
My fingers tap out a frantic tempo, matching the wild thump of my heart. Sweat slips down my temple, a fleeting chill as the air thickens, pressing in on me.
What if she turned back? What if facing me is still too much? What if something happened on the way? Disaster can strike anyone, anywhere, without warning.
My breaths grow short and sharp.
What if th—
The bell above the door shatters my spiraling thoughts. The moment Charlie enters, I’m electrified, every nerve sparking as her glacial eyes lock onto mine. Each glance is a jolt—oncethrilling, now searing, burning me for the pain I caused the goddess before me.
For a heartbeat, I glimpse past the fortress she’s built, and the emotions in her eyes cut straight through me.
Pain.
Sorrow.
Nostalgia.
Anger.
Hate.
And, shockingly, love.
They dig into my soul, making sure I never forget what I shattered so carelessly.
As if I could.
As if I would.
If I forget I’m the cause of her pain, I let myself off the hook, and I won’t do that. Charlie deserves better, even if she walks away for good.
I let my guard down, offering her a glimpse of my own turmoil in return.
Remorse.
Sorrow.
Regret.
Pain.
Love.
I bare it all, even the feelings I think I don’t deserve. Lionel calls it guilt, says I’m allowed to ache for the damage I caused. I mourn the loss of a future I once imagined with her.
When I asked him why I should be allowed to feel those emotions forthosereasons, he said, "Because I’m human, and humans are known to be fallible."
I know the choices I made, and I know the destruction they left in their wake. If I shut those emotions out, if I shut out any of myemotions going through this, then how am I supposed to ensure that I’m giving my all into being a better man in the future?
Even from a distance, I observe the convulsing of Charlie’s throat as she swallows before she looks away.
