It frightened me to see how much I had deteriorated in just a few days. While they dashed onwards, I found myself with only so much energy to go around; I felt as if time was about to run out. Winter break had already melted away, but I remained within the walls of the apartment, straining to muster the courage to step into the world beyond us two. I just couldn't will myself to leave the little bubble I had created in my head. As if I had slipped into a strange episode, my senses dulled and my vitality sapped, no trace of the intoxicants that had once filled my veins. I felt like half a person, a shadow of myself trailing behind somewhere.
Alex showed such selflessness and patience with me, but it overwhelmed me with so much guilt that I didn't know what to do with myself. Despite her own responsibilities and commitments, she was robbing her own time to help me cope with my misery. Listened to all the bitterness I had bottled up. Saw through me, past the words I said and the ones I didn't. Sat with me through the silent cries at three in the morning, and the hours spent with no words at all. Continued to take Benji to and from school each day, spend her afternoons with him, and manage her work. That was what really got under my skin.
To have another person carry my weight. I had blown my own life to bits, and still, she insisted on salvaging what was left and mending it, even when I didn't ask and even when I didn't deserve it. There was something in her that just refused to give up on me, this thing I couldn't quite understand but was oddly grateful for all the same when I allowed myself to be, even if it did seem like an incredibly selfish thought to admit.
It was a strange dichotomy, to feel both grateful and guilty, appreciated and inappreciable all at once. On the days when some daylight seeped into me, I took pleasure in the mundane things like cooking and cleaning and doing the schoolwork Alex brought from the school. But on other days, over and over again, I crawled under blankets and shut myself out from the world. And over and over again, she was the one pulling me out of the bedcovers not abandoned for the whole day, dragging me outside for our evening walks through the neighboring forest, forcing food down my throat, and holding onto whatever shred of sanity I had left.
That usually did work. Her efforts to keep me occupied miraculously also kept me grounded in a semblance of a healthy state of mind, denying any ground for anxieties, but it was when she left me on my own that I began to feel myself losing. It would always take a little extra effort to contain it, to hold it together then. It made me ache with shame, for I felt selfish for relying on her so much, for not being able to snap out of it myself. After all the fear, the uncertainty, the hurt, there was just her.
It took a while for my mind to wake up to a morning where the world wasn't drearier or uglier, where I felt okay on the surface, though the nights were still hard. Terribly white-knuckled, feeling like I braced for something that I didn't quite understand, except its raw discomfort prickling against my skin. Sometimes, I would wake up to random noises, and sometimes, it was troubling dreams—if I managed to sleep long enough to have those. I had to force myself to choke it with a pillow shoved over my head, blocking out everything. Most nights, it never felt enough. I was too tired to talk, too drained to listen, too dejected to be okay, so I found myself avoiding my own thoughts. It was just a matter of retreating back to where the clouds felt slightly lighter, their edges known, and memories not so saddening.
Tonight was one of those nights. I felt like a rat on a wheel as my thighs ground into the cushions, and the couch protested. My pillow felt made of cement, and my bones felt like they were playing a tormenting game of reshuffling as I wrestled for a comfortable position. My mind raced with a million thoughts that kept me tense until I welcomed music into my ears—the one thing that often helped, if only for a while—and mentally reached for oblivion that felt like nothing but a worn-out dream.
I continued to blend into the shadows until I spotted Alex quietly creeping into the apartment. Her nocturnal tendencies had also not escaped my notice; she was often up at odd hours of nights and mornings, working at the kitchen island, only the scratches of her pen or the soft clack of a keyboard piercing through the silence. I'd catch her drawing or reading books in bed more often than not, and there were times she disappeared without warning in the middle of the night, only to come back a few hours later. Like that night.
She rarely spoke of it when I asked, but I never pressed. After all, it was obviously none of my business, and I'd nearly given up on trying to figure out her habits because they were anything but predictable. I merely lay there with my eyes affixed to the ceiling and listened to the sound of her car keys quietly dropping onto wood, the familiar creak of a door that I'd come to recognize, the flick of a light switch that signaled she was now in her bedroom, then the water running in her bathroom, until complete silence fell over everything once again.
Everything except my mind. All that came out of it as I lay there were memories of things I had done wrong, the trail of broken friendships that followed, and my overwhelming lack of desire to attempt to mend anything until I had mended myself. I thought about how much I missed my parents, about that never-ending ache in my chest at the mere mention of them, and the promises I made to myself to make it up to them again and again and again that seemed more impossible to keep. About whether I would ever be able to forgive myself for what happened. About how I still worried for Chris and if he was taking care of himself without me there to make sure of that. About how I had not one idea what I wanted to do with my life, how I had put my dreams on hold for so long—though I didn't even know if I had any left—as if waiting for some miracle to happen before I could start living again. About how I wanted to do better and be better, but just couldn't seem to get it right.
At some point, sleep must have caught up with me, because when I opened my eyes again, I was in a different position, the blanket slightly twisted and bunched up around me, and the earphones wrapped around my arm and digging uncomfortably into my skin. But the night was still dark and quiet, and the moon was still in the sky.
I disentangled myself from the wire in an attempt to sit up, anticipating nothing but shadowy silence to greet me. But my focus gravitated toward the kitchen. I wondered how long she had been there, leaning on the marble counter, in near darkness with the only light emanating from the window, staring down at her own fingers wrapped around a glass that she took absentminded sips from.
"Can't sleep?"
Her gulp of water went down the wrong way at the sound of my voice. "Fuck you," Alex coughed the words out. "Stop scaring the shit out of me."
A chuckle slipped through my lips as she flicked on the lights under the kitchen cabinets, pouring some warmth into the living room and allowing me a better look at her. It gave such a beautiful golden hue to her figure, just enough to highlight her black silk robe as she padded over to the couch, and gave something for my tired gaze to catch onto—the tattoos that seemed to dance with each step she took, just as overwhelmingly beautiful as the bare parts of her legs.
Her playful throat-clearing was a cue to my blatant gaze that snapped my attention back to hers. And though I was prepared to respond with some lame excuse or joke, I instead noticed her messy hair, just barely dried, and the red-rimmed vulnerability in her eyes. She had been crying.
"Are you okay?"
One nod was what I got in response before she collapsed next to me. "Just another shitty dream."
Sighing, I draped my blanket over us both and snuggled closer. "We can be miserable together."
A soft foot nudged mine as she made room for them to ward off any chill the night brought, and I happily obliged and sat waiting for her to find a comfortable spot. But for all her wriggling and digging and squirming, she seemed unable to do so, until she gave an audible sound of defeat and dropped her head onto me, in the curve where my abdomen gently rose and where my bent legs formed a comfortable cradle. She inhaled deeply, then settled, the warmth of her breath seeping through the thin fabric of my tank top.
But my own breath came out suddenly short when her arm threaded between my legs and around my thigh, hugging it close under the blanket. I wasn't sure whether she did that intentionally, but it took only a second more for my questions to be answered as her arm suddenly retreated, and she seemed to stiffen. Maybe she had felt the sudden prickle of goosebumps under her fingertips. Or maybe had comprehended that it was my bare skin she was in touch with, realized what she was instinctively doing, how close she had gotten.
Unsure of my own thoughts yet unable to deny them, I cautiously raised an arm and put it loosely on her back, near her shoulder. "I won't bite."
"Can I?" she muttered after a long unsteady pause, so quietly that I could barely hear it. "Touch you?"
Beneath the fabric, I clasped her hand in mine and steered it back onto my skin. I shifted so she could easily reach more of my thigh, and then higher, chasing the curve of my hip before sliding down again. Eyes closed, I let myself savor those circles against my skin, those gentle but restless paths. Her robe had slipped off her shoulder under the weight of my resting hand, her skin warm against my fingertips that hesitated to move.
The unfamiliarity of the situation had me reflecting only marginally. I had quickly become aware of how close we were, not in the usual way when we would hug casually and briefly or cuddle up when feeling needy, but in a way that made me keenly aware of her, that made her trust for me almost tangible. I could feel her presence as acutely as I could the heat that came from it. And I realized that I kind of liked it. Really liked it, even.
"How are you feeling?" she half-whispered.
I needed a minute to come back to myself, to absorb it all. "I'm not even sure anymore," I finally said. "The nightmares are gone, but so is my ability to sleep. The anxiety doesn't come in waves, either. It's just kind of . . . always there. I feel stable, okay, but I'm just tired, Alex. So tired."
The circles on the side of my thigh momentarily grew fainter, as if her thoughts were slowing them down. "I really don't want to worry you more, but I'm not sure if you can afford to skip another week."
"I know." I sighed, feeling the weight of my predicament. "But I don't know how to break out of this . . . whatever it is. I can't bring myself to leave the apartment, and nothing keeps my attention for more than five minutes."
Alex disentangled our limbs and turned to look up at me, summoning forth an involuntary smile. I couldn't help it, nor did I wish to. The warmth of her body, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the faint scent of her lotion—all I found myself wanting to do was take it in and stay that way until sleep would take over. It had been far too long since I had felt that close to someone, both physically and emotionally. Since I had allowed myself to let someone in, to let myself be, to care.
"You know," she mused, "we could go pick up your guitar. And don't you also need to get the rest of your things?"
The mere notion of stepping foot inside that apartment again filled me with a crippling dread. "I don't know..."
"At least you'll have one less thing to worry about. You can keep them here in the spare room." Alex sat up, but her hand immediately found its place back on my thigh. I could tell that she knew exactly the feelings I was going through. "Distractions could be good," she offered gently before her voice took on a more playful tone. "Plus, I'd love to hear you play."
I raised my gaze to meet hers, genuinely touched and yet unable to shake the anxiety. But within, a small voice whispered that evasion was but a fleeting comfort, and I could no longer see any valid excuses for delaying the inevitable. I had learned the hard way that avoidance only prolonged the anxiety and led to more of it in the end, so the only thing I could do was begrudgingly nod.
"Okay then." She gave my thigh a squeeze before letting go. "Go put some pants on."
"Uh, it's like four in the morning."
"No one's up at this hour anyway," she said with a winsome smile. "Besides, it's not like we can sleep. Might as well."
"Might as well what? Get arrested for breaking and entering?"
"In that case, I hope your foot has healed enough to run."
"You're insane." I couldn't help but let out a rusty laugh at her enthusiasm. "And awfully persuasive."
"Pants, please?"
We rose from the couch together, but when she turned toward me, I almost choked on my own tongue. "Jesus, woman, you could use some clothes as well," I uttered and tried with all my might not to let my eyes wander any lower than her face. "You're about an inch away from flashing me."
"Oh." She emitted an adorable laugh and glanced down, fixing her robe. "At least it would've cheered you up."
"It's not too late." I smirked. "I'm feeling extra sad all of a sudden."
Alex was visibly turning something over in her mind, something that didn't let her break eye contact or allow her to dismiss me with anything less than another smile. Eventually, however, a playful spark appeared in her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't want to invalidate your feelings," she said slowly and teasingly, almost in a murmur, "but you'll just have to suck it up."
I laughed. "Brutal."
Though I could tell she was trying to, she just couldn't hold back that smirk. "You'll survive."
I also couldn't help myself this time and let my eyes linger on her until she was gone behind her bedroom door, taking my breath together with her. I had no idea whether I should've been happy or terrified about how effortlessly she could put a smile on my lips and my heart in my throat, but right then, tucked away in this little bubble we shared, I couldn't have cared less.
Leaving that neighborhood for the first time in weeks was a strange feeling. The streets somehow looked different, duller, even under the starry night sky, as if winter had seeped into those concrete pores and darkened them. And the apartment, something was wrong inside. It smelled oddly cold, though it wasn't. It simply felt too weird to return there.
We acted like nimble thieves at first, exaggerating every move and holding our hands over our mouths not to start laughing. But upon realizing Olivia wasn't home, my concerns subsided. The space was as quiet as the night as we emptied it, though half of my stuff still hadn't even been unpacked but just thrown into the back of the closet, like the photo albums and mementos of my parents. Alex had paused at the sight of them, flashing me a slight smile, before leaving me to my reminiscing.
"What happened to my plant?" she spoke from behind me. "I'm pretty sure the flowerpot was white."
The slight guilt within me manifested a sheepish smile. "I might have thrown it at the wall."
"Oh, can't blame you." She chuckled. "At least you repotted it. Poor guy hasn't gotten any water in weeks, it looks like. You're coming with us so we can get you back to life, okay?"
The way she spoke to it made my lips curve upwards as I continued stuffing clothes inside my guitar case. Alex really possessed a unique way with greenery; her plants were one of the first things I had taken notice of in the apartment, but it was her devotion that brought them life. Each leaf and stem were nurtured and tended to, and as she watered them, she would always hum and speak as if they were children. It was one of those many unexpected quirks I found so charming about her.
Or how she had this slightly unfamiliar but incredibly endearing way of showing she cared, those small gestures that maybe weren't even intentional. How she opened every drawer and door to check if I wasn't leaving anything behind, how she insisted on wrapping everything remotely fragile in t-shirts just so it wouldn't break from being carried the long distance of fifty meters to and from her car and the apartment, or how she asked me questions about the things around my room, about every trinket on my desk that didn't even mean anything. Or didn't anymore.
The room looked so barren, stripped of all traces of my former life and any remnants of my existence, really. All that was left was a thin layer of dust coating the empty surfaces and a very faint smell of stale weed. I tried not to look around and let my gaze linger for too long, but my mind couldn't help wandering to the memories that Olivia and I had made together, ones that I had cherished and that had shattered in a heartrending flash. It had been weeks, but I still hadn't processed that night after Christmas. The wound was still too fresh to touch.
"Don't worry about this, okay?" Alex yawned while opening the door. "Let's just go home and go to sleep."
The mere mention of the word home sent comfort through me. I hadn't really had that luxury in a very long time. Sure, her apartment was still just a place to stay, but it somehow felt the closest to what I'd had as a kid. Maybe because of the people in it. Despite the temporary nature of our situation that we both were aware of, she had a way of making me feel like I mattered there, like I would always be welcome—not like a charity case. The only thing missing was Benji.
We spent a few more minutes in the kitchen, packing up my pans and mugs and recipes. Everything was going well. My heart was light. Until a sound caused it to drop from my chest to my stomach and snapped my eyes up.
Hinges groaned in protest against Olivia's faltering arrival, her feet barely able to support her drunken frame. The main light switch clicked and washed the room in blinding light, instantly locking our eyes together and replacing my confidence with a rising rush of disappointment and annoyance.
With as much nerve as I could gather, I offered her a cynical smile and zipped up my bag, silently telling her I was already on my way out. But her gaze fixated not on me but on the person accompanying me, as if dissecting the reason for this unexpected presence, her scrutiny mingling anger and confusion in the lines of her face.
Her judgment unsettled me, urging me to look away, to escape. And just as silence seemed destined to win, Olivia sliced the fragile air, injecting poison into the space between us. "Of course," she murmured to herself, as though her words were intended to remain unheard. "I'm sure the principal would be so happy to hear about this."
Suddenly, my bags felt heavier, disappointment transforming from an abstract emotion into a tangible load. That sour sneer of hers only underscored this growing sense of dissonance between what I saw before me and what I had known to be true for years. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Kay," Alex's voice came from beside me, a hand grazing my shoulder, "just walk away."
But my resolve had solidified, refusing to yield to reason. "You're still going on about all that?" I muttered. "It's beyond delusional."
A dismissive smirk curled Olivia's lips, adding an extra layer of venom to her voice. "Someone's a bit touchy."
"I'm not responsible for whatever you've done to yourself lately, so don't take it out on me," I hissed. "What's wrong with you?"
"With me? What's wrong with you? It's not like you have a conscience or anything. And does she know you've probably got pills stashed in your pockets?"
It was clear that Olivia was just trying to bait me into retaliating. My fists clenched, knuckles surely turning pale as they balled into tight knots, nails digging into the flesh of my palms. I inhaled deeply in an effort to push away the anger clouding my judgment. This was a fight I didn't want to engage in, but I refused to be spoken to like that, nor could I bear her to dragging Alex into it.
"This is a new low even for you," I said through gritted teeth. "Don't make this into something it isn't."
"You can try to deny it, but people talk, you know? And if you're so innocent, why are you so scared?"
"You know what? You're right," I continued, icily. I was not in the right state of mind for arguments, or anything else for that matter. I was exhausted to the core and sure that one more ounce of stress would send me straight for the ground. "I am scared. Scared of you and how much of an insecure and vindictive little brat you turned out to be."
"Kayla, come," Alex said again, sterner this time. "You know this isn't gonna end well."
I did know, but at that point, I didn't care. I was sick of being the punching bag in her temper tantrums that, for the life of me, I couldn't even discern the cause of. Sick of trying to appease her only to be met with more anger. Sick of her taking everything I said the wrong way. Sick of feeling like I couldn't do anything right. Our whole friendship lay scattered at our feet, leaving me uncertain of what, if anything, remained to be salvaged.
"You think you're so much better than me?" Olivia sneered. "You don't get to say that."
"I never said that!" I shot back, surprised at how relatively calm I had remained despite what simmered within and had simmered there for months. "Just leave me alone."
"You're the one who's been causing all this drama lately!"
"By doing what?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. "By making new friends? What did I ever do to you, Liv?"
Another emotion, perhaps desperation, finally showed through the cracks in her poisonous façade. "You turned them against me!"
"I didn't turn anyone against you! Maybe they just saw how you treated me and didn't like it," I said and watched her face, how it carefully calculated my words, tailoring each word to her physical responses. How her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. And for a moment I was afraid she might lunge at me. "If you don't like me anymore, fine, but just don't bring the people I care about into this. Seriously, tell me, what did I ever do to—"
Before another word could pass my lips, I felt a sting across my face, the searing pain of her long nails raking through my nostril, top lip, and the edge of my mouth sending me a couple of steps back. But it wasn't until I felt another arm or two pulling me backward and further away from her that I started to fully understand what had happened. I also heard Alex saying something to us, her tone surprisingly measured, though it didn't quite register in my mind.
It didn't really matter. My vision was blurred, my ears ringing deafeningly. All I could do was stare, blinking rapidly to keep the tears away from my eyes, desperately searching for a glimmer of my friend. The person who had once held an irreplaceable place in my heart and had transformed into a stranger before my very eyes. The person who could not seem to find it in themselves to offer me even a scrap of kindness anymore.
Such helplessness consumed me, stripping away any thoughts of retribution, for I was not one to bring harm to even a spider, let alone a human being. I stood motionless with my arms hanging weightlessly at my sides, fists clenching and unclenching, the salty tang of tears mingling with the metallic taste of blood she had drawn from my skin. Aching for an apology that would never come.
I had not expected that my first time being slapped would hurt more emotionally than physically.
Olivia did seem to regret it. The shock was deeply etched into her features as she stared back at me, quickly replacing the anger that had been burning bright mere moments ago, as if some strange recognition had flashed. Her green eyes were void of everything but guilt, and I found myself hoping fervently for her to say something, anything. But I already knew she wouldn't. She never did.
It was Alex's worried eyes that caught my attention instead, sitting below drawn-together eyebrows. "You're okay," her voice broke through, gentle and reassuring. But I was almost afraid to touch my skin, fearing what I might feel, as though my face had been cleaved in two and revealed an ugly truth beneath. "Let's go. It's not worth it."
With my lip weeping drops of deep maroon onto my fingers, I left my key on the dresser and hurried to the car. The emotions inside me burned hot, but I didn't trust myself to speak at all, not letting even the smallest sound spill over. I held it in check and clung tightly to my inner composure, because, after everything, I couldn't allow myself to damage the one person who had been so good to me and had made me feel like I was better than that.
Our arrival at the apartment brought no comfort to that unrelenting restlessness that stuck to me like a second skin. My body tensed up with every stride, as if some silent voices were nagging at me to get up and move, to find solace in the constant motion. As if by some desperate act of fleet-footedness, I could outrun the racing of my rattled nerves.
Alex sat watching me, her eyes piercing into me with worry. "Please try to calm down and let me clean up your face," she said. "There's no use in stressing over it. You'll just mess your foot up again."
Frustration churned in my veins, mingling with anger. "I'm so mad at her." I groaned. "I don't know what to do."
"There's nothing for you to do. She was just taunting you, Kayla, on purpose. At least you won't have to go back there anymore."
"But what about those things she said? I don't want anything to happen to you just because she's gonna spread some nasty rumors that are not even remotely true!"
Her breath released in a long, weary exhale before she made her way to the kitchen. The tap gurgled as she scrubbed her hands clean and reached for a container in one of the cabinets. "Sit." She pushed me down onto the couch. "Let her do whatever she wants. No one would believe it anyway."
"How can you be so sure?"
"People know me around here." Alex cradled my face in her hand, the other pressing a saline wipe against my lips and erasing the red that stained my skin. Her sapphire eyes locked onto mine, her face just a breath away. "Some lies thought up by some teenager on drugs would mean absolutely nothing."
Through that knot of apprehension in my throat, I croaked out, "Drugs?"
"She was clearly on something besides alcohol. It was obvious."
As that knot slowly coursed down my throat, I chastised myself for failing to see the subtle cues that Olivia was struggling. If only I had been more vocal about the influence of those she surrounded herself with. If only I had been more insistent that she confront and vocalize the emotions within her rather than allowing them to fester and multiply somewhere deep down. I felt as if I had failed her in some way, but I also felt it was way too late for what-ifs.
"She was my best friend for years," I muttered, more to myself than her, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. "I know she's been awful, but so was I, Alex. Maybe I should help her like you're helping—"
"Not your problem," Alex interrupted. "You've got enough on your own plate right now. Don't go around helping people who neither desire nor deserve it, especially when you're in no shape to offer anything useful."
"But—"
"No buts." She squeezed the bottom of my face, ensuring our eyes locked. "Don't spread your kindness around for people who are not worth it because then there would be none left for those who deserve it. Really, she's not worth the energy you're investing in this, and you have every reason to be mad at her."
Tears filled my eyes, making it difficult for me to distinguish between reality and the fog of my thoughts. Humbled by the immense size of my own helplessness, my life had spiraled into such confusion and uncertainty that felt impossible to escape, despite my determination. That crippling gloom and its somber tones persisted no matter what I did or didn't do. It just lingered.
"I felt okay for once, here, with you," I said, words coming out shaky. "Then I took one step outside into the real world, and it all came crumbling down. I'm so anxious, and all I can think about right now is... It's like I'm incompetent at living or something, Alex. Like I can't be around people."
"That's nonsense," she gently countered. "You just have to surround yourself with the right ones."
"But what then? What am I supposed to do with those right ones? Lock them up with me? Because every time I step outside, something bad happens. I'm fucking incompetent at everything. I ruin everything."
Alex exhaled a heavy sigh and surrendered me to my restless pacing. "You have to understand that you can't control the world around you. But you can control how you react to it."
"I should've known better," I rambled on, my recently placid demeanor replaced by such irritability that denied me any semblance of steady ground. I had no idea why I was like that. Maybe it was the emptiness weighing down my chest that had left me so desperate for some form of release that I clung to even the smallest fragment of chaos that made itself known to me. A way of marking my existence. But the aftermath, when the dust had settled and when I was left to pick up the pieces of shattered reality and shattered friendships, was always the most terrifying. There was no denying that it was getting harder and harder to reorient myself, but who could I really blame for all of this? Myself? The world? Because everything felt to be only getting worse, and I couldn't help but laugh at myself. "I should've known this wouldn't last."
Alex looked away, arms crossed tightly as she took a deep breath. "Kayla, I know how you feel. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. Find ways to cope with anxiety because it's likely there to stay, but don't go back to drugs, ever, especially pills. It's the easy way out, but it's doomed from the very beginning."
"I'm trying!" I screwed my eyes shut and grabbed handfuls of my hair, teeth set against each other. Tearing away from all of the years of conditioned self-blame and everything that came with it was like trying to dig my way through wet concrete. "I can't get it out of my head like it's ingrained into my brain or something!"
"Just breathe, okay?" Alex grasped my wrists and lowered them to my sides. "Focus on the things around you. What you can see, what you can hear, what you can touch and smell."
Her words sparked a flicker of recognition. "You've said that to me before."
"You don't remember?" She drew even closer, arms encircling me in a comforting embrace. "That used to help you as a kid. I've been doing that, too, for years."
"I can't," I whimpered, tears tracing a path down my cheeks. "This is too hard, Alex. I feel like I'm losing it."
"Do what I just told you and just hang in there, okay?" she crooned in my ear and kissed the side of my head. "It's okay to not be okay, but just hold out for the day it will be."
Craving nothing more than a moment of peace, I clung to her and wanted to keep her as close, like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, to the only person who still remained in my diminished world. "And when will that be?"
"Soon," she breathed. "It won't stay like this forever. You'll wake up one day and feel better, I promise. And it might be sooner than you think."
The pattern of her heartbeat was so gentle, far more peaceful than mine. The whispers of her breath brushed against my ear and played with my hair. Her hands made comforting circles on my back. And every breath I took carried with it the delicious tang of citrus and the sweetness of flowers. So inherently her. So inherently calming.
"Your perfume reminds me of magnolia." I shamelessly buried my face in her sweater, no longer caring about what was coming out of my mouth. "The magnolia tree next to the house always had such beautiful flowers. I can't help but think of it when you're with me."
Her embrace tightened at my words, firm yet gentle, enfolding me in warmth from which I dared not sever. And as the ghost of her kiss lingered on my forehead and danced down my spine, I knew I was safe in her arms. That I didn't have to hold myself together with her beside me. I knew that she understood. She always understood.
Every bit of kindness was warranted for Alex, and not just mine, for she deserved so much more than I could ever give back. There were moments when I could swear she was reading my thoughts, able to peel back the layers I didn't even know I had. Like how, during moments of fiery madness, she would intuitively grant me the space to stew in my own emotions, allowing them to rise and recede at their own rhythm. Then, with her rationality, she would touch those tangled threads of my anger, unraveling them strand by strand until it transformed into a gentler worry, before leading me to a sense of peace.
What astonished me was that she never utilized her influence to her benefit, which could have been a weapon in her hands at any moment. We were both conscious that she had the power to reduce me to a puddle with just a few words, but she only used it to make me feel better. No ulterior motives, no hesitation. Day by day, she ignited the fading wicks of my self-worth until they roared back to life, and did it over and over again. She was all I needed then—courteous, kind, intelligent, and so abundantly compassionate.
But as we stepped back from each other, her expression turned into a curious frown. I had no idea what exactly had done it, but as I took in her beautiful face, I felt it again. That anxiety churning my stomach with a dizzying force and flooding every nook and cranny, but different—and warmer—than the one which had limped after me most of my life. I suddenly couldn't seem to be able to take another step, and all the while, I wanted her to push me back. To push me away so I wouldn't do anything stupid.
I had tried for a long time to ignore those strange, unexpected thoughts. It was a feeling I had stashed away and buried deep within as it felt strangely unpleasant. I turned away every time it surfaced, ashamed that I could even entertain such ideas, ashamed all the way up to my cheeks. But now, every fiber of me itched to bridge the distance separating us, to just reach out and pull her into me. It threatened to turn me inside out, but I could not turn away this time. Part of me wanted to, morality in question, but she obstinately clung to my consciousness.
"Kayla," she breathed, her voice a soft whisper, "please don't do what I think you're going to do."
A lump formed in my throat as her plea tugged at me, the caution underpinning her words urging me to reconsider. Despite the flicker of hesitance in her eyes, I found myself unable to resist the thing that drew me forward and compelled me to get closer to her, to feel her breath mingling with mine, to hear her voice in my ears, and to sense her warmth against my skin. But somehow, I remained standing in place, because all I could perceive was my own heartbeat in my ears mingling with the rushing tide of blood in my veins.
My voice was a mere wisp of sound in the silent air between us, though my words sounded more like a desperate plea than a question. "Why not?"
"I can tell your mind is elsewhere."
I knew it was wrong, but every ounce of logic slipped away as if she had robbed me of my power of reason. "It is."
Her eyes softened as they searched my face. "Don't do this now."
"When else?"
"I don't want to lead you on," she murmured, her head swaying ever so slightly, as if to remind us both of the reasons this path was strewn with caution. "I'm not interested in commitment."
"I don't need any," I said breathlessly. "Not when it comes to you."
Thunder echoed my heart as I watched her gaze take a fleeting detour toward my lips before flaring with a captivating force as they sailed back up to mine. She gulped, hesitant, as if entertaining even one illicit thought would betray her to the whole world. The silence had substance, thickening and stretching forever, seemingly trapping her words within. Her gaze flitted back and forth between my eyes and her own worried thoughts but returned time and again. And with each return, my soul cried out.
"You know you don't mean that."
"I think I do."
My mind scrambled for the right words, my heart for the right feelings, though there were none of both. Part of me knew what she was saying was true; I didn't mean that, not completely. My respect for our existing friendship and fear of severing what bound us kept me from spitting out any other sound I might regret. But something took hold of the other part of me, morphing into a thing unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. All my convictions seemed to crumble into dust, overpowered by a consuming desire for my feelings to be reciprocated, even if it was for a fleeting breath. Even if it was wrong. Even if it was right.
Her eyes pleaded, searched, and doubted all at once, while I fought and lost the battle with every particle of mine. I doubted if I could ever explain it. It was less of a physical want and more of an emotional need. Not a sexual feeling, and not exactly romantic either. It was just that simple act of being close to another human being, that shared intimacy, that vulnerability, that trust that came with letting someone into your personal space. I wanted this, whatever it was, with all its complexities. Because even in its uncertainty, it felt more real than anything I'd experienced before.
But I also knew that it could all be in my head, and my head was the one thing I couldn't trust right then, more than ever. Maybe these strange feelings were the result of me grasping onto any kind of connection I could find. Maybe it was just a temporary infatuation that would fade with time. Maybe I was just projecting my own twisted issues, my skewed desires, onto innocent interactions that really didn't mean much. That realization was like a cold bucket of water being dumped over my head.
An eerie awkwardness filled the air. And as the weight of my actions dawned on me, so did humiliation. I had laid myself bare, giving away far too much of my thoughts and feelings, and I knew I had crossed a line that should never have been crossed. It churned within my stomach, a sickly feeling that intertwined with remorse, and I was acutely aware that I had unsettled her.
I fought myself for control, and after endless echoless seconds, I barely managed to face away from her. "I'm sorry," I whispered. Wanted to take it all back, to rewind time and pretend like it never happened. Wanted to reach out and grab those thoughts, to hold them in my hands and make them disappear. "Forget it."
Her silence was deafening, and I knew that she had already retreated into herself, though her eyes stayed trained on me. Understanding but not judging, sympathizing but not indulging. "It's okay," her voice broke through, devoid of any discernible emotion. Somehow, the words still stung.
"It's not. I shouldn't have said anything, but there's just so much on my mind right—"
"Kayla, just stop. It's fine."
"I'm sorry." I dropped onto the couch, three times heavier than before. "I'm just exhausted."
Her tone was slightly colder as she sighed. "I know you are."
Remorse and embarrassment spilled into the pillow where I buried my face along with my trembling exhale, the questions in my head numbing the biting pain in my lips brushing against the fabric. I didn't know what had come over me. But what I did know was that everything I had said and still wanted to say felt like the wrong thing. That it left me torn between isolation and the want to feel her presence, simultaneously fearing that opening my mouth would change everything in a way that I couldn't handle. I could barely even keep up with my own thoughts, let alone someone else's.
What scared me most was the feeling of being alone in my own mind, constantly standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall. But before I could even process what was happening, there was a hand in my hair, on the back of my head. It pulled me back from that edge. Carried away the fragments of my scattered thoughts with gentle circles, refused to break its chokehold on me until it had bound me back together and left me with nothing but the residual touch of her presence.
Her gentle fingertips moved to my cheek and jaw as I turned my head sideways on the pillow. And upon meeting my gaze, her features melted into tender understanding, accompanied by an apologetic smile. "Are you okay?"
A nod was all I could muster while surrendering to her eyes, which seemed to move through my soul, lingering on every nuance of my face. I felt as though I had been struck by lightning, so overwhelmed, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response to her words.
"Just go to sleep, alright?"
"Can you stay with me for a while?" I muttered with no confidence left in me. She was the distraction that I desperately needed and craved, yet simultaneously couldn't reconcile with myself. "I won't do anything weird. I don't know what I was thinking."
Her bottom lip bore the weight of her teeth, another momentary hesitation, and I could almost see the cogs in her mind spinning and working to stretch a small smile onto her face. And when she shed her sweater and slipped over me, each thump of my heart surely resonated through the air for endless kilometers.
I liked that feeling of her arm around me, holding me close. Or how her exhales on the nape of my neck were felt more than heard, breathing balance back into the universe. Or how her fingertips felt relaxed yet restless all at once, twitching just slightly against the fabric covering my stomach. I was still and she was still, and the chaos of thought had been sufficiently subdued to where I could silently exist.
We dozed there for hours or for sixty seconds, I couldn't be sure. But eventually, I mustered up the courage to turn under her arm, my body tight in the limited space. She didn't stir, but her grip loosened just enough to allow me to shift closer. Her eyes were closed. And for a moment, there was a peace that came from nowhere.
"Don't go," I whispered a fragile plea. "Stay here tonight."
Her eyes remained closed, though a sleepy smile appeared, slightly lopsided. It wasn't even an answer, not really, maybe not even something she did consciously, but it somehow obliterated whatever nerves clung to my bones, like wisps from a cobweb when a summer breeze blows through the hidden corners of an attic. Those dark ones that never catch enough light until the sun slants just right.
Soon enough, her breathing turned into a murmur, hardly audible. The touch of her hand bore a heavier weight, a pressure upon my side. Even her face seemed uncharacteristically softer in sleep, her mouth parted ever so slightly, as though just shy of a snore. I intended to keep my breathing regular, even though I really wanted to draw in a deep one and hold it inside me.
It wasn't until I started feeling lightheaded from tempering my own exhales—as if me making the faintest sound could've disturbed her—that I realized I was acting like a damned fool. I turned my eyes away and rolled over to my other side, tucking my hand beneath my head, only to feel her arm embrace me even closer, wrapping around me as tightly as that breath I suddenly held in my lungs again, trying to hold onto that beautiful feeling for as long as humanly possible.
How I had managed to trick myself into believing that what I'd had before was enough, I could not say. The carefully constructed seclusion, the drunken mistakes that faded with the dawn, the merely transactional give-and-takes lacking every other emotion but lust. It was becoming abundantly clear that none of it had been, that such a delusion had only ever been a convenient lie for me to hide behind. Because now, I found myself savoring every stolen touch, soaking it in lest I forget what it felt like when it was gone. Something about it felt so comforting, something that kept me here and now rather than lost in my own head.
Alex had some power over me, making surrendering to her the easiest thing in the world. I was free to be a wreck around her, and never once had she made me feel like an absolute mess. For a fleeting instant, I believed it to be some delusion, some mirage crafted by my own imagination, but I soon realized that it was real. Her presence was real, her gentle breath tickling the nape of my neck and turning my mind to mush was real, and her arm draped around me, anchoring me in the moment, was real. I couldn't have conjured such a tangible presence even if I tried.
The taste of her unconditional acceptance was something I had grown addicted to. Any tension I had ever known was erased until it was nothing more than a tiny dot, dwindling away as her touch seeped into my skin and lulled me into undisturbed sleep where worries and doubts could not touch me. I had thoughts of maybe staying in her arms forever. There was a kind of safety that I had missed, that I never wanted to leave.
I wasn't sure where it all had begun or how we had ended up there that way, but there existed no other place I'd rather been than the tenderness of her arms. Her body had grown comfortingly familiar. And even if it was wrong of me to feel this attachment, to let her claim pieces of me, to need her for sanity, I couldn't find it in me to care. All I knew was that I was content, and I wanted to hold onto that peace for as long as possible, to not take it for granted. Until the next morning would come yet again and undoubtedly bring with it the winter chill.