24 Cassius
It’s Necessary, So Why Does It Have To Hurt So Much?
I stand outside her door so long that a girl from two rooms down walks past with a laundry basket, glances at me, then glances again on her way back like she’s trying to figure out whether I’m waiting on someone or thinking about committing a crime.
Which, fair. I probably look a little suspicious just standing here with my hands in my hoodie pocket, staring at the wood grain like it personally wronged me.
It’s not even that I’m still deciding. That part is done.
I already made the decision in the parking lot on Halloween with her hand in mine and Derek’s voice still stuck in my head, and I’ve been carrying it around ever since, trying it on from every angle, hoping maybe one of them would feel less awful.
None of them do.
That’s the thing about bad choices made for what you tell yourself are good reasons. They still feel bad. You just keep going anyway because stopping doesn’t magically turn them into the right one.
I drag a hand over the back of my neck and stare at her door harder.
At the skate park with the guys, with that fucking BMX, I almost hit her.
That thought has sharpened since then. It doesn’t come back to me as one big dramatic replay either.
It hits in flashes. Her elbow bleeding. My arm cutting through the air too fast. Her body folding down on instinct because she saw it before I did.
Then Halloween made it worse because there was no crash that time, no blood, no chaos to blame it on. Just Derek opening his mouth and me feeling that same drop happen under my skin, fast and ugly, while she stepped in front of me again before I even fully realized I needed stopping.
That’s the part I can’t talk myself around, her stepping in. Again. That should never have happened once. Definitely not twice. And if I stay, I’m asking her to believe it won’t happen a third time just because I want it not to. That’s not enough.
I knock before I can wear a hole through the floor outside her room. There’s movement immediately. Light steps, something bumping softly against furniture, and then the door opens and she’s there in one of my hoodies and sleep shorts, hair half down, half clipped back.
She smiles first, something easy and without thought. “Hey.” She steps back to let me in. “You’re early. I thought you had that lab thing with—”
She cuts herself off as her eyes move over my face once, and I watch the exact second she knows something’s wrong. Zae has always been too good at that.
“What happened?” she asks, already softer, and alert.
“Nothing,” I answer automatically, stepping past her into the room. The word sounds thin even to me.
Her dorm smells faintly like vanilla body spray and whatever candle Riley lit earlier.
There’s a half-folded blanket at the end of the bed, books stacked on the desk, one of Zae’s earrings sitting by the lamp because she takes them out wherever she’s standing and never remembers where she left them.
Normal room.
Wrong reason to be here.
I sit on the edge of her bed because if I stay standing, I’ll pace, and if I pace, she’ll know it’s bad before I even open my mouth. She shuts the door behind me and doesn’t come closer right away. She’s reading the whole room first.
“You’re doing that thing,” she says.
I stare at the floor. “What thing?”
“The thing where you act like nothing’s wrong while also sitting there with your shoulders up by your ears like you have no neck.”
I huff a breath through my nose. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” She draws the word out, letting me know she’s not buying it for a second. “That sounded super believable.”
I don’t answer, because what am I supposed to say? She crosses her arms and leans against her desk, studying me in a Zae way. It feels less like being watched and more like being taken apart and put back together until she finds what doesn’t fit.
“You’ve been off for a few days,” she notes after a moment. “I let it go because I thought maybe you just needed to sit in your little broody skater feelings for a bit, but this is starting to get weird even for you.”
My hands tighten together between my knees.
“You were weird on Halloween,” she continues, ticking it off like she’s building a case.
“You’ve been weird in texts, you’ve been weird in person, you’ve kissed me three times in two days and all of them felt like you were apologizing for something, and now you show up looking like somebody just told you your dog died. ”
I close my eyes for half a second.
That sounds about right.
“Cass.” Her voice drops lower on my name, and when I look up, she’s not leaning anymore. She’s standing straight now, worry written all over her face. “What’s wrong?”
I could lie. I could.
I’ve lied before. Never about big things with her, not really, but enough to buy myself time. Enough to get through one more day. Enough to pretend I’m handling something when really I’m just shoving it farther down until it grows teeth.
I can’t do that here when I came for this.
I swallow once before I start up. “I think we should break up.”
The words leave my mouth quiet and even and so completely wrong in this room that for a second I almost expect them to disappear before she hears them.
She blinks and then laughs just once, short and disbelieving. She’s waiting for me to smirk and tell her I’m kidding and maybe that I’m bad at jokes and then we’d both move on. But when I don’t, her laugh dies fast.
“No,” she responds immediately, furrowing her brow.
I don’t move. I don’t say anything.
“Cass,” she tries again, shaking her head now, a little smile still hanging on out of pure refusal. “No. Don’t do that.”
“I’m not kidding.”
The smile is the first thing to go. Then her whole body stills in this way that feels strange on her, because Zae is usually all movement. Even quiet Zae still has motion in her. This version of her just stands there.
“What?” The word barely makes it out of her mouth.
“I’m serious.”
“No,” she whispers, wishing it so, disbelief still plainly written on her features.
The second one comes sharper. Stronger. She pushes off the desk and takes two steps toward me.
“No,” she repeats, and now there’s frustration in it.
“Fuck no. That’s not something you just drop on me like it’s a weather update. ”
I stand, because sitting there while she looks down at me feels wrong for what’s coming. She stops close enough that if I lifted my hand I could touch her hip.
“What is this?” she demands. “What happened? Did I do something? Did something happen and you’re being weird about telling me?”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?”
I drag my hand down the back of my neck again, buying half a second I don’t actually need. “It’s me.”
She makes a face. “Oh my God. No. You are not about to hit me with that ‘it’s me’ bullshit.”
“But it is me.”
“That’s not a reason.” Her eyes are already getting bright, but she’s still standing there with both feet planted, still fighting me instead of breaking. “That’s what people say when they don’t want to tell the truth.”
“It’s not.”
“Then explain it in words that don’t make me want to throw something at your head.”
She’s angry right now. Confused too. There’s still enough disbelief in her face that some part of her thinks this can be argued out, fixed if she asks the right questions in the right order. That part is about to die, and I hate that I’m the one killing it.
“I’m not good for you,” I answer, and before she can cut in, I keep going. “And no, that’s not a line, either. It’s the truth.”
Her mouth parts, then shuts, then opens again. “That is not your decision.”
“It has to be.”
“Why?” It comes out hard, almost a challenge.
“Because I’m not okay.”
She laughs again, but this time it sounds wrecked. “You think this is news to me? Cass, I’ve known you since freshman year of high school. I know you have your issues. So do I. That’s the whole fucking point.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then say what you mean!”
I exhale slowly, trying to keep my voice leveled because if I let it crack too early, I’m done. “I thought I was better.”
Her brows pull together. “Better than what?”
“You know what.” Her stare doesn’t break.
I go on anyway. “I thought I had more control than I do. I thought if I stayed away from certain people and certain situations, then maybe it was managed. It’s what I’d been telling myself for the last year.
Not fixed. I’m not stupid. But managed enough that I could trust myself. ”
“No,” she whispers quietly, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what this is.”
“That’s exactly what this is.”
“You haven’t done anything bad.”
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. There’s nothing funny in it. “But I almost did.”
She stares at me, unsure.
I’m not being clear enough.
“At the skate park, when you got hurt,” I say, and now my voice is rougher because I’m in it again whether I want to be or not.
“I had adrenaline and you bleeding right in front of me and a guy blaming you for something that was entirely his fault. I could almost understand why my head went where it did, even if I hate it. But on Halloween? All Derek had to do was open his mouth.”
Her lips part. I keep going because if I stop, I won’t start again.
“There wasn’t a crash. Nobody was hurt. You weren’t in danger. He just said the right thing and I felt it happen again.” I tap two fingers against my chest, then drop my hand. “That narrowing. That second where everything in me turns toward one thing and I stop thinking and just start moving.”
Her eyes are glassy now, the disbelief wearing off more and more. “But you didn’t move.”
I nod once. “I know.”
“Then why are you acting like you did?”
“Because I still wanted to.”
She steps even closer now. “No, that is not the same thing. You stayed in control.”
“I barely stayed in control.”
“You still did.”
“That doesn’t make me safe, Zae!”
There. That’s the word. The real one.
The one everything else keeps circling.