Chapter 11 #2
So much for that theory.
He doesn't look sick, or apologetic, or like he had a crisis that kept him from reaching out.
He looks normal.
Like the world didn’t end for him two nights ago.
My stomach plummets as I tell myself I should turn around and walk the other way. Pretend I didn’t see him, and protect these final shreds of my dignity while I still have them. But my body doesn’t listen, and my feet keep moving.
Dmitri looks up when I’m ten feet away, and nausea hits me hard enough to make bile burn up my throat. Dark circles are faint under his eyes, enough to make me wonder if he lost sleep, too.
“Hey,” he says, setting his phone down. “You survived the weekend?”
The casual greeting lands hard. My mouth opens, then closes, and for a moment, I can’t find words. “Yeah,” I finally manage, though my voice sounds thin. “Survived.”
He tilts his head, that damn forced smile fading as he studies me. “You look… rough.”
Not perfect.
Not gorgeous.
Rough.
My laugh comes out bitter. “Rough. Sure.” He opens his mouth like he might say something, but I can’t hold it back any longer. Even though it takes every ounce of my courage, I force myself to ask the question. “What happened after the party? Why’d you disappear?”
Dmitri groans, and the sound hits like a hammer to the knees. “God, what a mess, huh?” he says with a breathy laugh.
“Mess?” I whisper as another wave of nausea almost doubles me over.
“I knew better than to let it get that far… I mean, I really knew better.”
My breath is suddenly roaring in my ears as my vision pulses. “You knew better?” I repeat, because apparently that’s all I can fucking do anymore.
Dmitri rubs at his temples, and I’m silently pleading with him to look at me, but he keeps avoiding my eyes. “Yes, and you did, too.”
His words echo in my ears, so loud I almost slap my palms over them to try to make it stop.
I knew better?
Maybe I should’ve, but I don’t.
Or… I didn’t.
Not until this moment. Until that hollowness spreads through my body and makes me cold all the way to my toes.
This isn’t right.
This isn’t him.
I know him, and he isn’t cruel.
It can’t be happening.
I try to swallow three times before my voice remembers how to work. “So, what? You regret it?”
He laughs again, like he can’t see that I’m falling to pieces right in front of him. Like he doesn’t realize he’s holding my heart in the palm of his hand, and he is breaking it with every word.
“Regret?” He wrinkles his nose, staring at the sidewalk. “I think we can both agree getting that drunk was a terrible decision.”
Another crack forms.
Another chasm splits me wide open.
He huffs an uncomfortable laugh. “I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”
“You shouldn’t have?” I repeat, still with that flat tone that sounds like it’s coming from far away.
“Nah. I should’ve called it a night while we were still sitting outside. Hell, we might’ve been better off never going to that party to begin with.”
“Why are you saying this?” I manage to croak, and his eyes finally land on mine. “You never say what you don’t mean. You never…”
Dmitri presses his lips closed, shaking his head as he glances away again.
“You didn’t even text me,” I say, my voice so small I don’t even recognize it.
His eyes flicker up to mine for a split second, brows pinched like he doesn’t understand. “I did…”
“One text. One fucking text about my head… that’s all I got?” The words crack on the last syllable, and I swallow, throat burning.
His mouth opens, then closes again. The person who's always known how to comfort me doesn't know what to say.
“Are you serious?” My voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “That’s all you had to say?”
“There was so much going on,” Dmitri mutters, fixated on the ground. “I didn't want to bother you, and if we're being honest—”
“We were always supposed to be honest with each other!” I shout, and a few head whip our direction as I force myself to breathe.
His lips pull into a tight line as he keeps staring at the sidewalk like it holds the answers. “I needed time to process. My head was all over the place.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of the whole night. It was a stupid fucking move on my part, alright? It’s fine though. It’s out of my system.”
Out of his system.
I’m out of his system.
We are out of his system.
Whatever pieces of me that were left intact splinter at that moment. Something inside me gives way, crumbling in a way that feels irreversible.
I’d loved him.
I love him.
Holy fuck, I love him.
And I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a bad decision.
My heart breaks, then.
Completely, and irreparably.
Noise rings in my ears, so fucking loud I can’t hear anything else as I turn away. The faint sound of his voice lands over the chaos, shouting my name. I don’t stop. My legs move like they’re cased in cement, but they carry me across the commons anyway.
I fucking run.
Away from him.
Away from the hurt.
Away from the piece of me that he just killed with his bare hands.
I don’t look back.
I run until the music building is between us, until I can’t see him anymore and the only sound is my own ragged breathing and the distant chatter of students who have no idea my heart just shattered in broad daylight.
I stop under the big oak near the path… the same one we used to claim as ours, that shaded us as we laughed and studied with my head in his lap. The leaves are fuller now, greener, like nothing has changed.
But everything has.
I press my palm to the rough bark, fingers digging in until it hurts. The pain is sharp, nothing like the dull, spreading ache in my chest that won’t stop. A ragged, gasping breath fills my lungs as a single sob slips free. I drag my palm down the trunk one last time before I leave it behind, too.
I’ll never open myself up like that to anyone again.
Never let that part of me breathe.
I’ll stuff it down, suffocate it, because if nothing ever feels that right again, then it can’t hurt this bad when it’s taken away.
It can’t destroy me.
The sun is high now, warm on my face and mocking me with how bright the world still is. There should be storms and rain and fury from the fucking skies, not this. Not beauty. I turn away from the tree, from the paths we took. From the place where we used to be us.
I walk on.
And I don’t look back.