Yeah, he’s obsessed with planning.
“What about your therapist?” I ask, again all calm like.
“What about her?”
“Isn’t she supposed to have a say in when you leave?”
He stares at me for a beat. “No one has a say in when I leave.”
Right.
Not even me. Not that I ever had it but still.
He sighs again.
Although I don’t think it helps with loosening him up at all. His body, his muscles are as tight as ever. They’re almost straining from whatever is going on inside of him.
“Besides, I can find another therapist,” he says, standing tall and straight. “In LA.”
“And your team?” I swallow. “Are they fine with you coming back so soon?”
“I was always going to go back one day. So yeah.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my lips from trembling and my eyes from filling up. “But one day, right? Not right now.”
“One day. Today. Right now. What’s the difference?”
He asks the question calmly.
Very, very calmly and I bet he doesn’t even have to go to all the lengths that I’m going to. To appear this way.
Because suddenly it hits me.
He’s acting like the old Arrow. The one who used to be unruffled and determined.
Like the snow and the bite of his love that disappeared the next day, the new Arrow –myArrow – is gone. In his place is the Arrow that I fell in love with but had no clue about who he was.
It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
A sour taste.
Like I’m drinking my own tears.
“Is it because of me?”
At this, I see a flinch.
I see the bare muscles of his stomach tightening and standing up in stark relief like I’ve punched him.
But his face shows no effect.
“What makes you think it’s because of you?” he asks in a rough tone.
“Because I love you.”
I suck in a breath at my declaration.
At my stupid,stupiddeclaration.
