Page 72 of Palingenesis

I don’t deserve any more than that if all I ever do is run away from it. If I can’t accept it, how could I possibly ever ask anyone else to? Worse: How do I ever face the real world if I’m carrying around make believe?

Maybe I don’t wanna face it anymore.

Using the back of my hand, I swipe away the collection of tears from my face and pull into my driveway a lot faster than I realize. I’m just here… with another car parked in front of me… the grass mowed and porch light on.

Like I was never really gone.

Or maybe I was never really here to begin with.

I throw on an old hoodie from the truck and lumber up the stairs, considering knocking on my own door just to be certain it’s not another ruse. Though, I don’t.

Instead, I push my way inside and I’m rushed with warmth. Familiarity. The scent of burnt and sweet slapping me right in the face.

And then it all goes stale.

Henry and his weakly masked grimace is the first thing to compute as he approaches me, hands up like he’s going to touch me.

My stomach churns and I jerk away.

His mouth moves like he’s speaking and the energy it takes to muster up a response drains quickly. “Hearing aids dead.”

I have no idea if the words were audible or comprehendible, but I’ve lost the ability to give a shit.

My shoulders are slumped when I turn away from him, my steps slow, to find Avery and Morgan sitting on my couch—the one I don’t remember buying—and watching it all unfold.

Avery’s eyes are wet, his hands moving in words I can’t focus on, and his husband looks an awful lot like he’s pissed, but not at me. Morgan’s sharp stare is aimed at my ex.

Huh.

That’s the first time I’ve thought of Henry in that way, like he’s officially passed the point of attempting to respect him by saying things like former partner. Or still calling him my current one, even when we weren’t.

He was never really my partner at all. He was simply someone along for the ride, using up every part of me that I willingly handed to him.

The truth of it tastes bittersweet on my tongue as I turn back to him, his hair perfectly coiffed and his clothes neatly pressed. Just like always. Like he had no qualms about keeping himself presentable while I was missing.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone but if the lines of concern etched into Avery’s face and the tears in his eyes are anything to go by, it’s been long enough that the person I was aiming to spend my life with should be bawling by now.

Did he even try to look for me?

Lifting my hands, I finally sign the words I’ve been dying to for much longer than I ever realized.

“Stop pretending like you love me and leave. I don’t have anything left to give you.”

If he doesn’t get it, it’s on him. Maybe Avery will have mercy on him and interpret for me, but I don’t wait to find out.

Instead, I limp my way to my bedroom, where I collapse on the mattress with visions of singed wings fluttering in my mind.

The feathers fall like snow, drifting slowly through my psyche, and a purr fills the back of my mind.

Maybe I choose the fairytale after all.

Exhaustion pulls at me, ready to lead me into the land of dreams only to be interrupted by the weight of another human sinking the mattress beside me.

Cracking open an eye, I find a blurry Avery grinning down at me.

“Henry’s gone now. Morgan helped him out.”

He’s grinning, shaking the bed with his giggles and I can’t help but reach up and place a hand on his chest to feel the sound. It feels good to see joy for once. Nice. Human.