51
Huxley
Idon’t know what I’m doing.
And I don’t know how to fix this so we both make it out in the end.
After Valentina left my apartment yesterday, I haven’t felt normal. My normal, at least. And maybe that’s because she saw something I never wanted her to see. She saw me vulnerable. She saw me weak.
God, I called out her name for help. Even though I don’t remember doing that, I know the exact moment in my dream when I did it.
Her hands were on me. Her blonde hair was in my face. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. But I heard Val calling for me. So I called out for her.
I drop my hand from my hair and stare out across campus. I missed my first few classes, which means I missed being there for Val’s classes also. I just don’t know what to say to her.
We weren’t fighting. I know we weren’t fighting. But I felt like if I didn’t push her away, I would have spilled all my secrets to her. Secrets that I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone else. Secrets that made me into this thing that I am.
But I need to see her. I have to see her. Because without her, even for these few short hours, my mind has twisted to a place I know I can’t go. A place I feel Val visits more often than she lets on. So I need to know she’s okay. I need to know we’re okay because I’m not ready to lose her.
I open my notebook again and read over what I’ve already written this morning. Some would say I need a therapist, but writing has always been my sanctuary. I write it down to get it out. But writing isn’t taking away the pain in my heart.
People start moving past me after their classes, which means Val will be out here, too.
I turn towards the door, but don’t see her.
My body quickly turns back, searching the group of people walking away from me, and I find her—her hair clouded around her like a shield as she pushes her way through the people around her.
I grab my stuff and hurry after her. Did she not see me? Or does she not want to see me?
Pushing past a group of people, I reach out, grabbing her arm and turning her to face me. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice coming out weaker than I think it ever has before. And I know that’s only partly because of my own shit. The other reason is the look in her eyes.
She isn’t happy to see me. And she confirms that when she says, “I’m going home.” Then she turns and walks away.
I fucked up. Like, really fucked up this time. But I don’t think I’m allowed to chase after her again. I think…fuck…I think this is it.
She turns around suddenly, marching back up to me with anger and determination. “You didn’t call,” she snaps, shoving me back a step. “You didn’t text.” Another shove that I fully deserve. “You let me walk away.”
My whole body deflates. I’ve never felt so weak before. “I thought you wanted to be alone.”
She throws her arms out to her sides, exhaustion filling her eyes. “You can’t just assume that Huxley. When I push you away, you come after me. That’s us.”
“Maybe I was tired of you pushing me away.” Great. Now we’re actually fighting.
“So what, you want to end this?”
I glare at her. “No. You tell me not to assume, but now you’re assuming.”
“You just said you were tired of me.”
This girl, I swear to god.
“I’m not tired of you, Valentina. I’m tired of you pushing me away.”
“Then don’t make me push you away.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that when everything I do makes you upset?”
She stumbles back at my anger. It hurts her. But all this hurts me too.
“That’s not true,” she says quietly.
“Bullshit.”
“You make me happier than I’ve ever been before.”
I turn away from her because that has to be a lie. There’s no way I could be making her happy. Not the way we keep fighting. Not the way I’ve hurt her.
She steps closer to me, but I don’t deserve her near.
“Every time you’ve done something that’s upset me, you come back, and you make it okay. This was the only time you actually let me go.” I look down at her, a hint of tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to end this.”
I look away from her again.
How can this girl want me? How can she want to continue after everything we’ve been through? Everything I’ve put her through. But it’s like I said. I can’t lose her.
I reach over and grab her shoulder, guiding her to my chest. She grabs my shirt, pulling me closer, and I can finally breathe again.
“I don’t want to end this either,” I whisper.
She wraps her arms around me, holding me up after my world started to crumble. I’m certain now that without her in my life, everything will fall apart. She’s become my stability. My safety net. My everything.
“I thought we agreed not to fight anymore,” I say, gently rubbing her back.
She shrugs. “I think fighting is inevitable.”
My fingers thread through her hair, holding her head right next to my heart—right where she belongs. “Just as long as we make it here in the end?”
She nods and tightens her hold. I can feel her tears soaking into my shirt, and I hate that I’m the cause of them. I kiss the top of her head and hold her for dear life.
Because in the end, that’s what she is.
My life.
And I’ll hold on for as long as she lets me.