It’s crushing, and I don’t see a way out of it. I already messed up.
“Okay,” he finally says. “If you want to go through this alone, I’m not going to stop you.” He takes my hoodie off, getting ready to leave, and smooths his T-shirt down. “But if you needanything,call me. I’m here for you.”
“I know. Thank you.” I shut my eyes and exhale a shaky breath. “I just need to learn how to take care of myself.”
“And I need to let you do that.” Ian, the saint he always is, comes closer and hugs me from above. A tiny, tiny morsel of tension leaves my body as soon as he touches me, but the tangle in my core is still heavy. “I’m gonna miss you this week.”
I tighten my grip around him “Same. Gonna miss you lots.”
Ian’s phone beeps, he checks it, and then he’s off with a final wave. With the quiet click of the front door closing, I’m left with nothing more than my darkening thoughts.
Damn it, now that I’m completely alone, the weight of what happened sinks in even more.
I essentially told Ian that he was doing too much and thenpushed him awaybecause of it. Not just in a figurative sense—I pushed him off me, too.
Without even thinking, I stuck a knife into one of his biggest insecurities and twisted over and over again.
Is it too late to run after Ian and tell him I’m an idiot?
Yeah, it is.
Sinking down further into the couch, I bury my face in my hands and let out a loud, gritty groan. I could have been next to my kind, caring boyfriend right now, comfortable and safe with everything heofferedme, but I decided to be an asshole, and now I’m alone inhisapartment.
I’m not even in a better position than I was ten minutes ago. My parents still found me.
And I’malone.
A chill runs through my body, fear compounding the guilt that’s still growing.
Fuck, I learned techniques for this. Grabbing a pillow, I scan the room.
Right, what can I see? Coffee table, carpet, TV, uh, my reflection in the TV? Nope. Lamp. That’s better. Alright, one more: textbook.
I’m touching the pillow, my hands, the couch under my ass, and uh, my socks. Those are feelings.
I can hear a clock, my pulse in my ears, and cars outside.
Ian’s smell is in the pillow and the room spray is wafting through the air.
My dehydrated mouth is something I can taste—dry and metallic. Not the most pleasant, but it’s identifiable.
Okay. I take a breath, hold it, and let it out.
I’m…a little better. Calmer, even. I squeeze the pillow tighter in my arms and curl into it, listening to my heartbeat slow down.
I’ll be fine. I’m alone, and Ian’s gone for a week, but nobody’s coming forme.
Besides, what would I have done if I’d gone with Ian? He’ll have his games, and I’d be skipping a week of classes and exams.
And if my parents actually wanted to track me down, they’d have a list of ten WMUs to search through. I doubt they even care that much.
To be honest, I’m probably dead to them now. That thought gives me some kind of sickening, relieving peace.
Still, I could use a hug, and Ian isn’t here to give me any. Even if he was, I threw his affection back in his face, so he’d probably be hesitant to touch me at risk of making me mad.
I get a text notification, and my heart jolts, my hands shaking again as I pick up my phone to read it. Did my parents manage to find my number, too?
Ian Scott
